James and the Diamond Cutter

This guy, James was his name, had been staking it out for months. We know from the photos. They were all over his car they recovered just down the street. It was a nice suburban neighborhood. I wasn't there myself, I just saw the pictures; a big place, probably 4,000 square feet. There was a trampoline in the back yard, a mailbox that looked like a fish, and what appeared to be permanent Christmas lights—as if they had been built-in to the house. I guess you can buy houses with permanent Christmas lights these days. I hear you can adjust the colors and blinking patterns electronically, even remotely with an iphone or whatever. What will they think of next. Anyway, it wasn't like this guy was an amateur. He knew this place and the people in it. He knew their routines, their habits. It was creepy flipping through his album: kids playing in the yard, a bald spot popping up over the back of a sofa during prime-time television. The guy did his homework. But, it was more than that. He got lucky. Well, you know, he thought so...

It just so happens there was line-of-sight from the living room window to the alarm system keypad. It was eerie seeing the zoomed-in photo of the code. There it was in all its liquid crystal glory: "6637." The tip of a lady's slim finger was pressing the Enter key. We figure he was near the premises the day the family left for Costa Rica. That's when he took a snapshot of their German Sheppard locked up in a kennel being shoved into the back of their minivan. Folks don't kennel their dog for day trips. He knew they would be gone for a few days at least. He pretty much had the place nailed.

Our guys assembled the evidence. It's clear what happened. He walked up to the house, picked up a fake rock, pulled out the spare key, and opened the front door; walked right in. The kids would use that hidden key when they got home early from school. He had seen them use it dozens of times. He disabled the alarm using the code he photographed and then began rummaging around.

He didn't have any problems making himself at home. There was a half can of Red Bull on the counter and an empty carton of Swiss Cake Rolls on the floor. The TV was blaring upstairs. The drawers in the master bedroom were ransacked and jewelry was missing from the jewelry box. Clothes were everywhere. Apparently, not finding what he was looking for in the bedrooms, he wend downstairs, and that's where the fun starts.

There was some plastic wrapping on the stairs to the basement, and crumbs of a chocolate, cake-like substance. Sweet tooth, I guess. He had gone through most of the lower guest bedrooms before he made it to the mother load. They say he couldn't believe his eyes when he opened that heavy steal door...

Basically, it runs down like this: the owner was a diamond dealer. He liked to work at home, and had his own diamond cutting operation in this little room located in the center of the basement. There was basically a showcase of rings all along the walls. There were no doors or windows, just hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of diamonds and gold bands. He didn't advertise it or anything, but some folks found out about it. One time some friends-of-friends showed up for a barbecue extravaganza and meandered down to the basement. Discovering a few aging, glossy-eyed hippies marveling at the shiny gems was enough to persuade him to install a webcam in the upper corner of the room, just to be on the safe side. That was his story anyway. It had enough storage for about one month of video. It was nothing to special—but enough for our forensic team to see exactly what happened. He cooperated with the police entirely, and didn't hesitate to hand over the digital surveillance video.

Here's what they saw: the guy opened the door and the lights turned on automatically, revealing the diamonds. The way the system worked, as soon as the door opened the lights came on, and the bulletproof glass closed down over the valuables. This way, the rings were never accessible when the door was open. As soon as the door closed, the case elevated, granting clear access to everything. This gentleman noticed this—that the glass was open when he first entered the room, but then quickly closed. He opened and closed the door from the outside a few times to try to get a feel for how the system worked. It seemed as though all he would need to do was walk inside, close the door behind him, fill his pockets, and walk out.

The video is painful to watch. You can see him from the inside, carefully trying to close the door just enough so that the case would lift without the door closing altogether. Even though he was able to open the door freely from the outside, he wasn't quite comfortable closing the door from the inside. He seemed to realize the possibility the door may lock him in, but, it didn't lock when it was closed from the outside, so it was probably reasonable for him to assume there was no automatic lock when closed from the inside either. Finally, he pushed the door shut and all the cases open up. His smile went from ear to ear...

He jumped over to the showcases and shoveled everything he could find into his pockets. It might have been the most thrilling moment of his life. You can see him laughing and dancing. When his jacket pockets, pants pockets, and backpack were loaded up and overflowing, he walked over to the door, turned the handle, and tried to walk out. To his dismay, the door did not open.

He was instantly infuriated. He dropped his backpack and began kicking the door. He picked up some tooling and slammed it against the handle. No use. After about 15 minutes of being obsessed with the door, he tried to dig through the drywall. You see him kicking the interrior wall and then falling to the ground, grasping his foot. It turns out you can't kick through a half inch of solid steal with a human foot. After smashing up the whole room, walls, ceiling, and all, he realized the severity of his state. He was trapped in a solid, impenetrable box. There was no way out. The vents weren't even big enough to fit a person's fist.

You could tell the moment James lost hope. It was about 2 hours in. He just sat there on the floor against the work bench, sobbing. At the time, he probably thought he would be arrested and thrown in jail. He probably thought about his third strike. He realized he would be going to jail for a very long time. He really had no idea at first...

The reality began to set in after about 12 hours. He suddenly got up and began frantically smashing the diamond cutter against the same place in the wall. This went on for a few hours. It was completely useless. He was just using up energy, as if it would have mattered anyway.

By the second day he began to go crazy, just ripping everything apart. He started talking to himself, then screaming. He made hand gestures to the webcam. He turned over the work bench and scattered the tooling and rings all over the floor. The room was trashed.

By the third day he calmed down, then drifted off and died quietly of dehydration.

The family returned from their trip a few days later. The diamond cutter, alarmed by the obvious break-in, walked downstairs and into the room. You can see the footage of him gagging on the stench of the rotting corpse. He promptly left the room and called 911. After a few minutes, he returned and seemed very distressed. He crouched down by the corpse, which had a cutting tool in his hand. Carved on the adjacent leg of the workbench was a message:

"Me = thief. You = murderer."

Did James deserve to die? I don't know. Did the diamond cutter set this up as a trap? Some of the investigators said he could have, but there was no way to prove it. It was just a door that happened to lock from the inside, requiring a special code to get out. The guy explained that there was a lock malfunction which allowed the door to be opened from the outside, and that he hadn't gotten around to fixing it. He wasn't charged with anything.

I guess you just shouldn't break into other people's houses and try to take their stuff. Seems to me there isn't really of any sort of law that's going to protect James here, no matter what anyone says.

Of course, later on, we learned the disturbing truth. It turns out the diamond cutter was watching him—watching the live webcam footage the whole time from his beach house in Costa Rica. He had planned the whole situation just to bait the guy. He had opened the drapes in the living room just so James could photograph the keypad. He had told the kids to use the fake rock with the key inside so James would see. He planned the whole trip and put the dog in the kennel just for James' benefit, so that he would know the wouldn't be home. Incredible stuff. It gets pretty crazy.

We learned that there was a speaker in that room. There was no audio on the recovered webcam footage, so the investigators thought James had simply gone mad when he started screaming things. Actually, it turns out the diamond cutter was taunting James—telling him there would be no one coming to save him—telling him he would die for his crime. In fact, investigators suspect the diamond cutter explained exactly how he had set James up. They say he did everything he could to lure a burglar to his house, any burglar, just so he could have the pleasure of watching the guy die in his little dungeon.

How do they know this? He confessed to it. He openly said that it was total, 100% premeditated, cold-blooded murder. He just felt like killing a guy who was serious about robbing him, and somewhat capable of doing so. It was a game. I guess he lost a bunch of money in the Madoff scandal or something. I guess he just needed some sort of twisted justice. But, even after his confession, no one believed him. It was just too absurd. They didn't think it was possible. After all, there wasn't any particularly sophisticated trap set—just a standard automatic lock that had a particular malfunction. It was a trap designed not for any specific individual, but for a particular type of individual— a clever burglar.

Anyway, if you ask my opinion, I guess I'll have to stick with what I said before—it seems to me you just shouldn't break into other people's houses and try to take their stuff. I don't think James should have been killed like that, but I don't think people should step into bear traps either. Just one of those things, I guess.

Danny's Bridge

They say Milton was a very talented builder of bridges, especially for a young boy. People usually think building bridges is a task best suited for a team of engineers or something, but Milton could do it all by himself. He could usually be seen by the banks of some river, planning or gathering building materials.

Danny was Milton's companion. While Danny knew nothing of actually building bridges, he was known far and wide as a master bridge builder. If fact, communities would pool their money to pay Danny a handsome price for his bridge building services. After all, they were the most sturdy bridges in the land, and could be built quickly. Most people had never heard of Milton or his bridge building skills. Most certainly didn't know that Milton built Danny's bridges. They only knew that Danny was the one to consult if a bridge needed to be built.

Here was the procedure: A representative from a community would consult Danny. Danny would be paid a very large sum of money as an advance. Then, Milton would build the bridge. After the bridge had been built, Danny would stand by the bridge and collect a toll for several months from everyone who crossed. As Danny collected the toll, Milton would be working at the next project site, preparing to build the next bridge.

Milton was always very friendly and cheerful as he worked. Most of the time no one bothered him. He did not expect payment for building bridges. He had learned to catch and eat fish from the rivers. All he really cared to do was build and catch fish, and he lived a content life. When he had finished a project, he would come to Danny to know where the next bridge needed to be built.

Danny was a nice man, and of temperate character. No one knew what he did with all his money. He wore modest clothing and lived in small, temporary apartments. He ate the most simple foods and had only a few close friends.

One day, Danny rode into town on horseback to join Milton and to collect his advance. As was customary, the mayor, in this case, Mayor Tom, invited Danny to dinner to negotiate. This was something Danny had done hundreds of times. The conversation was usually very short, and would consist of the mayor offering one-half gold brick for the advance, and the other half upon completion. But, this time was different. The conversation went like this:

Mayor Tom: "I will pay you one gold piece for the entire bridge."

Danny: "I'm afraid the bridge will cost you one gold brick."

Mayor Tom: "I know that Milton works for free. He collects his building materials from the land. You have no expenses!"

Danny: "If you will not pay one gold brick, I will send Milton to Millville downstream. Mayor George has already agreed to pay us a full brick."

Mayor Tom: "Yes, but George and I, and the mayors of all the other towns along this river had a meeting last week. We agreed that a tax must be levied on all bridge construction. The people in our villages think your price is too high. The tax will be 90%. We can pay you now if like."

Danny: "Well, I guess I have no choice. I guess we have a deal."

Mayor Tom: "You do have a choice. You can tell Milton not to build the bridge, and then you will make nothing."

Danny: "No, it's alright. I'll let Milton finish the bridge and take the single gold piece."

The next day, Danny walked to see his friend, Diane. Diane was friendly lady who lived in a very large house. She cared for ten young orphans. She welcomed Danny inside:

Diane: "Danny, thank God you're here. We had almost run out of food."

Danny: "I'm afraid I only have one gold piece for you today. The Mayors have all introduced a tax."

Diane: "Well, that will feed us for a week. Thank you."

Danny: "Your welcome, but I'm afraid that is all the money I will get for the whole bridge. You will need to ask the mayor for food. I cannot help you any longer."

Diane: "I understand. I will write him a letter."

Diane proceeded to explain how the tax had affected the town. At first, the tax only applied to stores and shops. For example, Billy the barrel maker was taxed 50% for each barrel he sold. Some people thought he could spare that much, but he couldn't. He had to raise the price of each barrel 25% and dismiss one of his four employees, Jim. He had no choice. Because of this, Jim could not afford to feed his children, and him and his wife needed to abandon them for many days at a time. They would forage for food in the wilderness. And, one time, they never came back. Diane cared for their three young children, and the children of others who have suffered the same fate. This tragedy had been occurring in all towns all up and down the river.

Danny left Diane's house and walked down to see Milton, who was busy building the bridge.

Danny: "Milton, is there any way you could catch extra fish for me while you're working on the bridge?"

Milton: "It will take longer to build the bridge if I need to spend extra time catching fish."

Danny: "That's alright. It's just very important that you catch extra fish. The mayor won't even notice that the bridge will take longer to build. I will need you to start catching the fish next week."

Milton: "Very well. I will catch 10 fish a day for you. Will that be enough?"

Danny: "Yes, that will be plenty."

This arrangement worked well. Even though Danny did not acquire enough gold to help Diane care for the children for a long time, Milton's fish kept them fed.

This went on for several weeks. Danny knew that Diane's orphans would starve if Milton left town, so construction slowed to a crawl. Milton spent most of his time catching fish. Before long, Mayor Tom demanded that Danny meet him for dinner. This time, it was a new Mayor's mansion that had just been built. There were statues and pillars and chandeliers. It was a very impressive house. Danny sat down to dinner.

Mayor Tom: "I see that the bridge is taking longer than expected."

Danny: "Yes, we have run into some obstacles."

Mayor Tom: "I have noticed that Milton is spending much of his time fishing."

Danny: "Well, yes, he likes to eat fish."

Mayor Tom: "I have seen him catch far more fish than he can eat. What does he do with the extra fish?"

Danny was afraid. He didn't want to tell Mayor Tom that he was giving away the fish. After all, many people would want to take Milton's free fish. He knew some of the others wouldn't use the fish to feed orphans or even eat themselves, but to sell. No, he definitely could not admit to giving away fish for free.

Danny: "What Milton and I do with the fish caught from the river is our business."

Mayor Tom: "Well, Milton is building the bridge for our town, and, the people of this town demand a bridge. They want the bridge soon, and they didn't hire Milton to catch fish. So, you see, it is my business. You have forced my hand. I must also tax all earnings from your fish at the same 90% rate."

Danny: "Very well, you will receive 90% of the earnings from the fish."

Mayor Tom: "Thank you, and finish my bridge."

Danny told Milton the news. He explained that Mayor Tom thought they were selling the fish, and decided to tax at the 90% rate. This meant Milton would need to catch an extra 9 fish every day and sell them at the market rate in order to both pay the tax and feed the orphans.

Milton spent his evenings catching the extra fish. He also worked hard to complete the bridge. Although, Danny knew that the orphans would have no food once the bridge was complete. So, he had a meeting with Milton.

Danny: "Milton, I need to tell you something."

Milton: "Yes, Danny."

Danny: "I use all the money from your work to help children who would go hungry otherwise. I give it to Diane at the orphanage."

Milton: "I know that, silly. Why do you think I work for free?"

Danny: "Oh, I guess I should have known you had figured it out."

Milton: "That's why I build strong bridges. That's why built them so quickly. Do you really think I could be so blind?"

Danny: "And that is why you have taken an extra long time with this one?"

Milton: "Yes, that's right. I know that if we leave town, those kids will go hungry."

Danny: "What do you think we should do?"

Milton: "Just keep doing what you are doing. I'll take care of it."

Two weeks later, work was finally complete, and Mayor Tom arrived for the ribbon cutting. There was a large celebration with fireworks.

In an 'unfortunate accident,' one of Mayor Tom's explosives struck the bridge and set it on fire.

Danny was handed another gold piece the next day, and Milton's work resumed.

The Therapy

The unbelievable nature of our findings has compromised our efforts.

Even after the human genome project, cloning, and robust tissue regeneration. Even after trips to Mars and the Large Hadron Collider, they still do not believe. Is it ingrained in their DNA? Is it some innate, psychotic emotional safety mechanism that simply cannot be overcome? We don't know. But, the fact remains: Most people reject the longevity therapy altogether, and choose death instead.

We saw evidence of this mentality early in our research, even before an effective therapy was available. Oh no, it wasn't the immediate visible results they rejected, quite the contrary. As we engineered new tissues using extracellular matrices just about everyone was cheering us on. The media looked upon us favorably as we regrew fingers, bladders, and hearts. There were no complaints then.

Did they not see the implications?

Did they not realize what we were doing?

How does it work? It's conceptually very simple. The body is a machine, a very complicated machine, but a machine no less. This machine powers itself though metabolism, converting organic matter (i.e. food) to the energy we use every day. Our research has revealed exactly how our bodies do this. In order to administer the aging therapy we require you to understand some basic aspects of our research...

Look at nature in general, and humanity's interaction with it. The current global warming hysteria has emphasized the damage we are inflicting upon our environment. Let's put aside the controversy for a moment and consider what both sides agree upon: the creation of energy causes harmful pollution. All our efforts to produce clean energy in sufficient quantities have failed. Whether we harvest the sun's power by unlocking ancient stores of hydrocarbons available as coal or oil, or fuse atoms of uranium derived from supernovae billions of years ago, we are left with dangerous byproducts that pollute the air, land, and sea. We simply can't figure out how to avoid this. While acquiring sustainable energy has proven difficult for humans, the problem has been resolved by mother nature relatively well. The evidence for this is no further away than our own bodies.

The human generator is more sustainable than our most advanced energy technology. At an average temperature of 98.6, we are constantly maintaining a slow chemical burn. This is similar to a coal furnace or a nuclear power plant, but under conditions that are carefully controlled and regulated for incredible efficiency. Yet, even at this low temperature, our cells produce harmful byproducts that must be diluted and safely removed from the body. Incredibly efficient biological machines are working diligently in our cells to deal with these harmful byproducts, neutralizing them and delivering them to the bloodstream for elimination. The physical waste that results from our metabolism is harmless, and returned to the Earth in a condition ideally balanced with the environment. The resilience of the body's cleansing mechanisms are extraordinary, but not invincible.

Over time the toxins produced as a byproduct of metabolism cause minuscule amounts of cellular damage. Our bodies function perfectly well with this damage, and repair it efficiently. Metabolism carries on normally for years and decades during this process of energy creation, cleaning, and repairing. But, over an extended period of time, the damage begins to impair the cleaning and repair functions. Gummy substances begin to build up in our cells that hinder the perfectly efficient cleaning process we had as children. Even this is not an immediate cause for concern, as our cellular constitution is incredibly robust, and prepared to deal with massive assaults upon our bodies from these dangerous impurities. But, as we all know, in the race to repair our cells we eventually begin to fall behind. Finally, after many decades of cumulative damage, our organs finally fail to regenerate fast enough and we die. The point is, death is not the result of any pre-programmed age limit. It is not part of our genetic code. In fact, our DNA is specifically optimized to prevent aging, and does this with remarkable success for the duration of our lifetimes. But, the differentiated cells of our body simply cannot endure the assault forever, so we currently deal with this by delivering our genetic material to offspring who carry the torch of our genetic information into the future. Our abused bodies disintegrate back to the Earth. We recognized long ago this ugly tradition was arcane and rather unnecessary.

Now that you have a general idea of our physical condition, I will make one brief mention of our spiritual one...

If you are a God fearing man, you are not prohibited from the therapy, contrary to what you may have heard from the media. But, understand that the one true God created man, and gave him the intellectual power to destroy or heal himself. If you are Christian you know, through your knowledge of His son, which option we are instructed to choose. Your faith may indeed save you.

If you are not a spiritual man, you must respect the ancient, sacred truths that permit humanity to accept the healing of the body indefinitely. We are not healed so that we can endure an eternity of depraved concupiscence. One is better off in the grave. Read scripture in the context of today, when an aging cure has been discovered and rejected to properly comprehend the meaning of these sacred texts. Ignore all popular superstitions and free your damn mind.

The real scientific quest to end aging began over 150 years ago. Evolutionary biologist August Weismann, in his 1881 essay The Duration of Life begins by quoting the words of a former scientist Johannes Muller:

Organic bodies are perishable, while life maintains the appearance of immortality in the constant succession of similar individuals, but the individuals themselves are passing away.

He was referring to the fact that some of our cells, germ cells, are essentially immortal, and are not damaged even after the passage of thousands of years, but deliver their genetic content to multitudes of perishable beings/hosts over the course of that time. Somatic cells, which perform specialized functions in the body, are vulnerable to the environment. Our organs are made of somatic cells. The questions our researchers asked was: "How can we give somatic cells the durability of germ cells?" For that, we needed to investigate certain aspects relating to the origins of life.

It turns out our bodies were not always, in the course of our lifetimes, so vulnerable. In our first months we did not suffer any damage as a result of metabolism. In fact, at this point, our cells were regenerative. Much like a salamander can regrow its tail, it is well-known that human fetuses can regrow entire limbs in the womb. They do this using undifferentiated stem cells, which are essentially capable of growing any type of human tissue. This is basically how we manufacture bladders, fingers, heart valves, esophagus' and so forth. There is nothing new about this. We've done it for years.

First, we used our body's own regenerative abilities and our own stem cells to regrow organs. These were harvested in a laboratory, and used the patient's own DNA. They were exact replicas of the patient's lungs, heart, liver, or whatever organ was required. We would keep these organs in a storage facility, and they were available for transplant whenever required by the patient. This had obvious drawbacks, including surgery, so we found ways to regenerate and repair human tissue using stem cell therapy without removing the organs. Our efforts were so successful, we discovered only a small amount of therapy was required to stall aging altogether in healthy patients. Then, with somewhat more therapy, elderly patients could be regenerated entirely. As it happens, our own DNA is perfectly capable of extending our own lives indefinitely. All the body needs is a little gentle nudging from science to keep those cleaners working as well as they did in our youth.

We thought this news would be received by the public quite favorably. Unfortunately, it was not. The problem was not the technology. The technology was and is perfectly reliable. The problem is people...

It just so happens that many individuals had always expected to die around a certain age, and had no plans of delaying that experience for more than a few years. We didn't understand it. In our educational campaign, we explained that we use their own cells (not foreign embryonic stem cells) to enhance the body's own capabilities. They nonetheless accused us of 'playing God.' We explained the relatively low price of the therapy, and they said we were selling snake oil and taking advantage of people's hopes and fears. They accused us of quackery. We tried to explain that this was very, very good news for all mankind. They wouldn't accept it. They seemed to live by the mantra, "anything that sounds too good to be true, probably is." They were making the most unfortunate logical mistake imaginable. Their apathy was literally killing them.

We do have the capability to provide restorative therapies for the entire human population. All that is required is a relatively small reallocation of global resources to accommodate it. What are expensive clothes, electronics, or fancy food compared to longevity? It seems people would be right to give up all their luxuries for a longer, healthy life. We thought this campaign would be rather easy and that the shift in global effort would be inevitable. This was not so.

It became startlingly obvious that the global medical and industrial infrastructure depends on sickness and death. It was constructed for a world of the dying rather than one for the living. Our cure for aging, if believed, would completely destroy the current industrial world and replace it with a new one. But, our current world is less prepared for this change than we previously realized. The problem's tentacles reach into every aspect of the society, and into your everyday way of life. The enemies of life are everywhere!

Look at the most simple example. Look at the food you put into your body. It's not the food that accompanied human evolution. Or, if you believe we've only been around for 6,000 years, it's clearly not the food God provided for us. Yet, these synthetic food-like substances, like refined flour, hydrogenated oils, and other marvels of 20th century food-science are staples of the modern diet. They appear in every microwavable entree. They are evidenced by unpronounceable names listed on the label of canned soups, beverages, and everything you see in the grocery store. These are tools that the food industry uses to produce foods as cheaply as possible. They do have limits: 1) Their food must taste good, as the consumer would not accept a sacrifice in taste. 2) Their food must not have immediate health consequences, as consumers would reject food that, for example, causes cancer immediately. What's the problem? While these foods are perfectly harmless in small quantities (as I mentioned earlier, our metabolism is capable of astounding feats), over multiple decades this diet causes all of the massive health problems we have grown to accept as a natural course of aging. For example, cancer is a chronic metabolic disease, which means it is almost always the result of poor nutrition, usually over an extended period of time. But, let's take the most obvious example we can...

In the 1960s there was not an obesity epidemic. At that time, food manufacturers began using synthetic substances and refinement in earnest to boost efficiency. This improved corporate profits, but they saw additional potential. If they could shift the American diet to include more highly-economical foods, they could reap greater profits. What better way to do that than exploit American vanity? So, they essentially hired 'researchers' to publish studies that suggested the most expensive foods were fattening, such as those that included animal fats. Then, these 'researchers' published additional studies that suggested the cheapest foods were healthy and promoted weight loss. The food industry collaborated with mass media to aggressively publicize these 'findings.' American's eager to lose weight shifted their diets to foods high in carbohydrates and refined flour. Well, 'scientists' hired by the food corporations were more crafty than anyone realized. They knew that foods high in simple sugars caused a rapid rise in blood glucose levels. The subsequent crash in blood glucose would result in a feeling of hunger. Through the introduction of other chemicals, such as high fructose corn syrup, they were well on their way to turning food into an unnaturally addictive substance. Dieters, by turning to a low-fat diet, stifled their metabolism and became addicted to these cheep foods. After enduring the pain of an unnatural cycle of hunger and malnourishment from the absence of fat soluble vitamins, they would eventually cheat, and end up binging. This predictable scenario was exploited by food manufacturers with impunity for decades, and the evidence is apparent in the waistlines all around us. Then, they exploited American laziness in their creation of 'diet' foods that only exacerbate the problem.

But, waistlines are relatively insignificant compared to the systemic catastrophe. Weight is only the tip of the iceberg...

Rampant heart disease, low bone density, cancer, and virtually all other age-related medical problems are greatly exasperated by decades of a population ensnared by the American diet. Pharmaceutical companies are dependent on sustained American malnourishment, as it means huge sales of products like cholesterol lowering drugs. The medical-industrial complex reaps billions by those who find themselves afflicted by this lifestyle, and suddenly restrained to a hospital bed. This is simply part of our experience. I am not blaming corporations or consumers, as we act as both at the same time without any real knowledge of the consequences. I am only stating the facts. They are relevant, because they are perfectly transferable to the therapy we have developed, and its refusal.

It turns out humanity's whole economic infrastructure survives through this cycle of hurting and healing its consumers. Our treatment, if generally known, would obliterate the stock portfolios of billions of people. Whole hospitals would shut down and millions would be unemployed. We never thought about these things in the laboratory. It simply wasn't an issue. Whole factions of lobbyists and special interest groups have assembled to defame and discredit us. Businesses shovel money to bureaucrats to pass anti-longevity, 'pro-God' legislation. It just so happens most people are just dying to die. The same ignorance that caused them to fall into the dietary trap of hurting and healing is now causing them to deny the cure for all of this.

The true devil is in the action of well-meaning but ignorant activists behaving on behalf of their conscience.

The effectiveness of public persuasion is astounding, but it is mostly limited to what consumers decide to eat, drink, and purchase in general (and maybe vote for). Yet, there is a small, vocal minority of trusting, altruistic 'do-gooders' who can be counted upon to go one step further. These individuals are highly vulnerable to persuasion, and honestly believe the therapy is a great lie. Behind these chanting 'pro-God' activists lie the hopes, dreams, and profits of the rich elite. Behind this sincere front of protests, the moguls desire to enjoy an exclusive life-extending therapy themselves. They don't believe that sheep who can be persuaded to act against their own preservation deserve longevity.

These zealous activists are relentless. They pose as clients to gain access to our facilities, then sabotage our equipment and research. At first we suspected they were all radical religious fundamentalists, but later we learned that many were only saboteurs posing as radicals. They were actually well-paid stooges acting on behalf of insurance companies and government sponsored industries who were attacking our efforts in every way. They slandered and framed our best scientists, engaged in massive Internet campaigns to alter data on open-source encyclopedias, and even infiltrated our labs and planted data so that it appeared as though our reports were doctored. We never imagined that people could destroy the very science that would almost certainly improve their own lives and the lives of their families and friends. The deceptions and falsifications were perpetuated by propagandists with profits to lose or political campaigns to win. The lies were repeated on television and in the movies. Anyone willing to join the army against us "Longevity Quacks" was rewarded with fabulous wealth. We were marginalized to the brink of destruction. The very lives of us all were at stake. After the bombings began, we were absolutely forced to take the therapy underground.

We now know we cannot advertise. Our adversaries will find us. We must let our clients seek us. It sounds terrible, but was and is the only way. We must discriminate against the enemies of life; those who insist that our work is somehow false or unjustified. We do not discriminate in any other way. For scientists who can interpret the hard data, the choice is simple. They have all joined us already. For all those who do not comprehend the data, they have already abandoned themselves to faith of some kind. They have faith in either the persistent corporate/government propaganda, or they have faith in, well, that silent voice in their head that tells them something is not right. With the scientists of the Earth suppressed, that voice is the one tiny thread that can lead them to us. It is their only hope.

We privately sought the Vatican and other branches of the Christian church for aid and asylum. After all, they were the last institutions on Earth with any power separate from the global industrial complex. We discovered their separation was largely a facade, and we were immediately refused all forms of assistance. We knew their founding document, the Bible, included much theological justification to help us. We insisted they meet with us, appealing to the words of Christ, and were granted one short meeting. We desperately attempted to explain the science to the Pope, to cardinals, to ministers. But, there was no way to simplify it enough for them. Believing it was quackery, they universally rejected our proposals, and suggested we abandon the devil's work.

Who dedicated to the real and practical advancement of abundant life could be accused of contradicting Christianity? Who could have imagined the technology for eternal life would actually exist, but not the moral and spiritual sensibility?

[To be continued...]

Collin's Choice

Collin looked through the glass at the silver coils and various colored offerings. Ziplers, Spleed-its, and his old stand-by, animal crackers, sat side-by-side. They all looked appealing. He could almost already see the coil turn around the bag of animal crackers, pushing it forward to drop against the floor with a crunchy, wrinkled plastic thud. He loved that thud. He held the two quarters in his doughy hand. Famous Ramous cookies, Blickers... The break room was quiet and empty, but there was muffled shouting from the meeting room next door:

"The color of the bag means everything damnit! Look at this data. Look at it! Red and yellow equals hunger, and hunger equals sales. The stats don't lie. Our testing has concluded that customers approach the vending machine, look at the red packaging, and experience hunger, then they buy..."

Collin held the first quarter half way into the slot, not quite ready to commit to his purchase.

"Gentlemen, do you know who pays your salaries? That's right. Overweight, overworked cube zombies drooling for a sugar fix. I don't care if his artwork belongs in the Louvre, if it doesn't suck quarters from pockets and into those coffers, we don't have any use for it. Read the data. Red and yellow damnit!"

The quarter dangled in limbo. Collin thought about his morning, carefully polishing the final hue of his design.

"And what the hell is this shit? Abstract art? Maybe I need to remind you that I don't care about your department's depth of artistic talent. I care about the smiles on our shareholder's faces. I care about your own damn 401ks and pensions. If yellow alone means one extra bag of Rimplies gets sold for every hundred, as the data reads, I don't care if my three year old designs it with finger paints."

Collin listened to the shouting, knowing they were discussing his project. As its designer, he had barely slept the past three days finishing the work for the proposals. "Ribbed Rimplies" was his first solo project, and he was determined to impress management...he barely heard his middle manager's meager voice respond to the executives...

"Sir, I'm sorry for the mix-up. Based on the positive sales figures for Round Rimplies, his previous project, you expressed interest in granting more freedom to Collin. He must have..."

"I didn't ask for Picasso. By 'freedom,' I expressed my confidence that Collin would properly interpret the fucking data and know that it was his responsibility to put square blocks in square holes. This isn't rocket science and it definitely isn't art class. He should know the formula by now."

He hardly noticed the quarter slip from his hand and fall into the coffer. It splashed the lake of quarters inside. He had grown paralyzed by the exchange next door. The project manager continued...

"Now march right back to your nice new corner office and do what I pay you to do. Tell Collin to reserve his talent for the county fair and get back to work on a feasible design."

"Yes sir."

A stream of footsteps emanated from the meeting room. Collin emerged from his daze and stared again at the bright packaging in front of him: Round Rimplies, Red Rimplies, Rhubarb Rimplies. He shook his head, then slowly lifted the second quarter to the slot and dropped it in. He pressed two buttons on the keypad to nudge the bag over the edge, then reached through the door to retrieve his animal crackers. He would need the energy. It was going to be another long evening.

The Implant

It's installed much like the regular implants you received at birth. All the standard ones are basically little artificial computers affixed to brain tissue. As you know, these permit modern humans to do all the everyday things required to live in civilized society: see infrared, hear in ultrasonic frequencies, and so forth. They allow you to control the advanced muscle fibers throughout your body and resolve complex mathematical formulas instantly and intuitively. Without all these enhancements you would be a pathetic creature indeed, barely able to run 10 miles per hour, and then, only for short distances. You would certainly not be able to resolve the real-time calculations necessary to navigate our hypersonic transportation network. Much less. For what tiny bio-chemical power you had you would require a constant supply of oxygen and water, and would be dependent on regular intake of mildly toxic organic matter for sustenance, often including animal tissue. Barbaric animals we once were. As you know, we have put all these things behind us. Even the most basic implant packages installed into society's poorest infants provide enough power for complete and perpetual autonomy. When we replaced the prison of biological metabolism with permanent and abundant bodily energy, we essentially gained complete control over our human condition. Forgive the history lesson, here. It's just part of the 'standard enlightenment protocol.' Well, alright, look, I'm not going to waste your time. You know all this. I'll skip to the last page here. Ahem... This was only the natural, inevitable result of the prehistoric 'awakening' that somehow adorned humans with consciousness and intellect thousands of years ago. We have assumed total responsibility for this awakening, and have become nothing less than masters of our destiny. The physical universe, including our own biology, has been conquered. Now we, the reasoning race, volunteer this final upgrade to free humanity from its only remaining malady.

Your unique, undifferentiated stem cells have been cultured with the latest nanotechnology in a slurry of neuron-enriching fluid. For you, and the entire human population, we have grown a specially-engineered supplementary perfrontal cortex. This implant is anticipated to be the last one required from human science. After installation, it will grow interconnecting neurons, which fuse with your current organic brain tissue. These implants are unlike those of the past...

Former intellect-enhancing implants have permitted hyper-intelligence, which allowed humans to take control of the physical universe. After the introduction of these implants, we first became conscious of the nature of our capabilities. We escaped Earth and terraformed other planets. Escaping our solar system, we conditioned our bodies to consume resources of foreign worlds for survival. We learned to adapt to virtually any atmosphere, breathe methane, endure extreme temperatures, and convert minerals to biological energy. Then, as implant technology improved, we almost spontaneously achieved the ability to engineer perfect solar systems with a virtually unlimited supply of ideal, Earth-like planets. The population of humanity became limited only to the amount of matter available in the universe that could be transformed to hospitable environments. As we had perfect ability to arrange atoms, and manufacture elements in any way we needed, all we required was actual matter itself to provide for billions of idyllic worlds. This, of course, is the history of our present condition, having every existing subatomic particle under our complete command at all times.

The question has often been asked...where do we go from here?

The implant that is about to be installed will free you from the last remaining ailment...from perfection. It will remove you from the idyllic conditions of our current universe and place you back into an environment of perpetual challenge. It will temporarily deactivate your other neural implants and introduce you into a simulation of the most intellectually fulfilling time from our history...the very first years of our breakthrough into technological sufficiency. You will experience life on the original seed planet, Earth, at the dawning of our time. You will experience every moment, from infancy to old age, as if you were a frail, organic being in the 21st century. You will live this thrilling time without knowledge of your true condition, subject to all the severe limitations humans endured at this time. You will experience life as it was before we had gained control, with exposure to true fear, frustration, anger, and happiness. You will experience eating, drinking, and breathing. Unlike your current condition of perfect autonomous control, you will be dependent and surrounded by seemingly insurmountable barriers and limitations. You will sincerely believe you are virtually helpless, just as all humans were at that time.

In order to experience this alternate reality, you must have no distractions from the actual universe. Your commitment will simulate a lifetime from organic birth until organic death. You will have no knowledge of your true condition, as this life could not be truly experienced without all the long-obsolete risks. You will be subject to things you have never experienced, such as real fear and the possibility of death. You will exist in a time with exciting consequences and the long-lost possibility of failure. You will not know your true condition for the duration of the implant's life, which will endure for the exact length of the simulation. It is the only way to ensure authenticity. Rest assured, you will awaken into your perfectly modified self upon completion of the simulation.

This is the final achievement of humanity, and one universally accepted by each member of society. We can make no guarantees regarding your happiness or success, as you will be given free will along with other implant recipients. We can only say that your experience will be authentic.

Congratulations, we are pleased to present your first exposure to life. Please sign on the dotted line and enjoy your simulation. You are welcome to retain all memories of your experiences if so desired upon your return. We hope you have a pleasant life. Please sit back and relax as we install your implant.

Mabel's Greeting

Mabel pressed the button on the control panel, elevating the top half of the bed so she could recline and open her mail. Today was her birthday, and she happened to have a large stack of letters waiting for her. The nurse, who was seated next to her, tore open an envelope and handed her a greeting card. She took it in her frail hand, inspecting the cover:

For the greatest grandma ever

A shadow of concern fell upon her face. She looked at the nurse for a moment, who encouraged her to open it. She looked back at the card and slowly turned the cover:

On your birthday, I just wanted to let you to know that I am thinking about you, and that you are truly loved.

Your great grandson,
Luke

It was a card from her only great grandson, Luke. Mabel had watched Luke grow from a rambunctious toddler to an enterprising young man. She thought about his straight blond hair and cheerful demeanor. He was always a kind and gentle boy. Mabel held the card in front of her for a moment, and the nurse finally reached for the card to hand her another one. But Mabel was still and vacant. A tear fell down her cheek and she pressed the card with both hands against her chest.

The nurse paused and placed her hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Luke must be a fine young man."

Mabel closed her eyes and nodded her head. After several moments, she looked at the nurse and held the card up so both could see. She turned the card around and pointed to a small insignia in the lower left corner:

A Facebook Greeting®

It was a stock greeting sent to her automatically by the service, as most greeting cards were these days. The nurse looked at Mabel.

"Now, Mabel, just because Luke used a greeting card service to send this to you doesn't mean he doesn't mean it. I'm sure Luke is thinking of you today."

Mabel closed the card and reached into the top drawer of her nightstand. She pulled a stack of four cards and placed them on her lap. The nurse watched as she held one up, comparing the messages.

Great grandmother, you have always been there for me, and on your birthday I want to remind you how much you truly mean to me.

With love,
Luke

"Well, Mabel, isn't that nice. Luke seems to really care about you."

Mabel overlapped the cards so one was folded into the other. Then she slid the inner one up until the signature of both cards was visible, one above the other.

Each signature was in blue ink, which contrasted with the black text above. While it looked as if each could have been signed individually, the signature on both cards was perfectly identical. After comparing the two side-by-side, it was obvious that the signature was printed by the greeting card company.

"Yes, Mabel, Facebook Greeting Company asks all their clients to scan and submit their signature. Then, they print the signature on the interrior of the greeting cards before they send them out. Mabel, it is very likely that he composed this message himself."

Mabel seemed inconsolable. She just looked down at the several cards and slowly shook her head. The nurse continued:

"Mabel, I know that Facebook Greeting Company allows its customers to automatically generate messages based on client and recipient profiles. I know it is possible Luke didn't write this note, or even remember your birthday. But, he certainly spent the time to log you into his friends and family database. And, he certainly filled out a profile that would allow for appropriate messages to be crafted for you. I'm sure Luke is a busy young man, Mabel."

Mabel slowly reached into her drawer again, pulling a yellowed piece of paper from underneath a stack of papers. She held it in front of her so the nurse could see.

In Loving Memory of Luke Anderson
Born December 23rd, 1985
Died October 2nd, 2006

Interpreting Triangle Top: Moral Philosophy

My hope is that Triangle Top: The Tale of a Troubled Tribe is a book that works on multiple levels. I wanted to provide children a colorful, entertaining story, and deliver parents a depth of meaning that can be applied to many different aspects of the real world (business, politics, economics, society, philosophy, etc.). It is an analysis of a community of highly-specialized creatures dependent on each other to go about their daily lives. I think this is rather similar to our actual, real-world condition. If any truth exists in the story, it will accurately represent one or more aspects of our experience as members of a family/company/state/society or any group situation. Since moral philosophy pertains to all situations that involve groups, the following analysis outlines principles central to its conception and meaning...

Trumples represent any material thing desired by mankind universally. The closest approximation would be money.

Trumples = Money

Trylicans are severely handicapped monsters dependent on routine and resistant to change.

They always walk in the same direction instinctively. They have specialized skills that allow them to survive by working together. They cooperate out of necessity using the virtual limits of their abilities. John Stuart Mill, the utilitarian thinker says the following of individuals who might be described as "Trylican-like."

"He who lets the world, or his own portion of it, choose his plan of life for him, has no need of any other faculty than the ape-like one of imitation." -John Stuart Mill

Trylicans live perfectly happy lives by depending on routine, tradition, and imitation.

The manner in which the tribe attains the trumples is most definitely utilitarian. First, the Tweeble (the big hopping eye) kidnaps a Twarfer (the walking mouth) and binds him to a tree without his consent. This is a violation of the Twarfer's individual rights. The twarfer responds by twarfing (i.e. screaming). His screams do not fall on deaf ears...

Trollephants (walking ears with arms) are listening. They hear the twarfing and know that Twarfers twarf when they are tied to trumple trees. They are not tall enough to reach the trumples themselves, so they find a Titan (probably by listening for its footsteps) and push the Titan toward the twarfing. The Titan "taps the trunk," and "trumples topple for all the tribe."

In this way, they get quite a lot of utility by binding the Twarfer against his will, depriving him of what some consider his inalienable right to liberty. This makes the Twarfer a slave for the good of the whole. Yet, the tribe could not attain trumples without his twarfing, and compensates for the injustice by feeding (paying) the Twarfer bits of trumple.
Let's discuss whether the Tweeble's actions are justified. First, remember, the Tweeble himself is not free. His (and the tribe's) dependence on the tradition of violating the Twarfer's rights had purpose. It is required to acquire trumples. The Tweeble might argue he was bound to the obligation to tie the Twarfer as much as the Twarfer was bound to the obligation to be tied.

What's the difference? The Twarfer had no choice in the matter. The Tweeble's choice is to tie the Twarfer or do nothing and die of starvation as a result, along with the other Trylicans. Do the ends justify the means?

John Stuart Mill thinks so. Mill believes that not only is the Tweeble justified to tie up the Twarfer, but that he has a moral obligation to do so.

"A person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them for the injury." -John Stuart Mill

Mill believes the Tweeble would be accountable for the Twarfer's starvation if he did not take action and tie him to the tree. Mill believes the Twarfer's rights are secondary, and the trumply consequences are primary, more than justifying the violation of rights.

Immanuel Kant disagrees with Mill...

"In law a man is guilty when he violates the rights of others. In ethics he is guilty if he only thinks of doing so." Immanuel Kant

For Kant, there is no question the Tweeble would be guilty by law. And, in ethics, the Tweeble would possibly be guilty.

What makes the Tweeble guilty?

He is ethically guilty if he thinks of violating the rights of the Twarfer.

But, remember, Trylicans depend on routine, tradition, and imitation. The Tweeble is not guilty, ethically, if he acts without thinking...in other words, if he acts according to tradition or imitation alone, and is truly unaware of the violation.

Thoughtless adherence to tradition, for Kant, provides somewhat of an ethical safety bubble. Provided one remains in a state of ignorance, utilizing nothing more than their faculty of imitation, they cannot be held ethically accountable. (A blind person cannot be held accountable for committing a crime that requires sight. Manslaughter, if completely incidental and unintentional, is morally neutral).

What if the Tweeble recognizes the ethical problem with his actions? Does he have a practical incentive to change his behavior? No, he has only disincentive. To change his behavior would be a confession of guilt, as his life had been devoted to the abhorrent practice of tying Twarfers. Furthermore, if he is capable of understanding the rights violation, he is also capable of understanding the conditions of his innocence: The answer to the question: "why did you do that?" - no matter how heinous - can always be answered: "because that is the way it has always been done." His simple innocence is plausible.

This is a powerful incentive not to think too much. It is, in fact, much more than that. It is an incentive to arrange one's life so that nothing must be done that has never been done before - to live according to precedence rather than reason. Living in a state of perpetual, thoughtless routine would require unchanging conditions like those the Trylicans enjoyed for their entire experience on Triangle Top. The benefits are profound. This is a recipe for peace, justice, blamelessness, and mutual reward. One might reasonably argue there is a moral obligation to bind one's sense of duty to proven traditions and routine over dangerous and unnecessary new experiences in order to preserve a state of moral purity unattainable any other way.

Conditions, however, are subject to change...

Travis is just like all the other Tweebles, with one exception. He happens to be the first one to identify the cliff (troubling terrain) over which the entire tribe is about to tumble.

He is suddenly, for the first time, unable to appeal to tradition. He observes the physical properties of the cliff and the direction of the tribe's advance. Through reason, which he cannot ignore or deny, he is necessarily bound to the reality that tribe's adherence to tradition will send them tumbling to their deaths. His former rule, that of not thinking, will no longer protect him. He is suddenly compelled to action, which would be justified by two moral theories that are often in conflict:

• Deontological (Kant): Based on the action's adherence to duty, recognizing individuals never simply as a means, but always at the same time as an end.
  
• Consequential (Mill): Based on action that produces a good outcome, or consequence, recognizing individuals as a means to the greatest good for the greatest number.
  

Deontological Reasoning:
Travis' duty is to "turn the tribe from total termination" if he is able. Rescuing the tribe is likely something Kant would consider congruent with the categorical imperative.

"A categorical imperative would be one which represented an action as objectively necessary in itself, without reference to any other purpose." -Kant

But, the Categorical Imperitive has more conditions. Travis must:

"Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law." -Kant (If another Tweeble saw this, they ought to do the same.)

And...

"Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, always at the same time as an end and never merely as a means to an end." -Kant (Respect the rights of every Trylican, treating them always as ends, and not killing-off any for the good of the whole).

And...

"Every rational being must so act as if he were through his maxim always a legislating member in the universal kingdom of ends." -Kant

Basically, Travis must do everything he is capable of doing to rescue each individual in the tribe out of reverence to duty and for no other reason. He also must do so as if his every action, in his circumstance, he would will to be universal law. And, he must do so with regard for the rights of every Trylican. Tough gig.

Consequential Reasoning
The greatest good for the greatest number depends on Travis doing something. (See Mill's earlier quote on inaction). Travis must prevent great harm, and is quite justified by the harm principle in acting:

"The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not sufficient warrant." -Mill

Since every member of the tribe is doing harm to one another, and they can be prevented from doing more harm, Travis has "sufficient warrant" to exercise power over any individual in the tribe against his will.

Incidentally, the former Travis, who was bound to tradition and imitation, has now converted to a thinking creature, which Mill respects and encourages...

"He who chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties. He must use observation to see, reasoning and judgment to foresee, activity to gather materials for decision, discrimination to decide, and when he has decided, firmness and self-control to hold to his deliberate decision." -Mill

While one might argue that Travis is obligated to use his faculties, he does choose his plan for himself. Like his earlier choice to continue tying Twarfers after recognizing the violation, he once again chooses against the suicidal option to do nothing. He does have a purely selfish utilitarian justification, as he cannot get trumples without at least one Twarfer, one Trollephant, and one Titan. His own life is also at stake here as it was before.

But, telling the tribe anything is taxing for a Tweeble. Travis, in desperation, ties a Twarfer to a Titan. He is unfamiliar with the responsibility of new knowledge, and ill-prepared to act according to reason. His purpose is communication. He wishes to "transmit the tale" of the tribe's tumultuous trajectory.
He courageously acts, but learns he not only lacks the mouth to communicate, but that the Titan has no way of perceiving the message he is attempting to transmit. He essentially discovers that effective communication with the Titan is not possible. He learns the benefit of trial and error; that we learn from failure.

This action has significance. Since this act does not have precedence, Travis acts outside of the safety bubble of tradition entirely, and thus unequivocally violates the Twarfer's rights intentionally. According to Kant, this action is certainly a moral crime. It would be a crime according the law as well.

Mill also seems to reject the moral worth of this action, since its consequences seem not to be helping.

It seems that we have agreement here: Tying the Twarfer to the Titan was not the right thing to do...

The chaos of the entanglement demonstrates the shock and confusion of many traditional beings simultaneously being exposed to something different. Anything other than tradition, for a Trylican, is a dangerous force separating them from their treasured trumples. They instinctively clump together, expecting, in vain, to acquire trumples from one another. The productivity and advancement of the tribe is slowed. (The slowing down the tribe was a detail that had to be cut from the text of the printed book.)

Those who interpret the story as espousing only the merits of cooperation did not observe how misled cooperation motivated them to participate in the fruitless pursuit of extracting trumples from each other in a senseless mob. The simple message, "cooperation is good," is also contrary to Travis' next heroic individual effort of dragging a Twarfer to a distant trumple tree...

Realizing he has no means to communicate with the tribe directly, he thinks of an original plan to rescue them. He aims to turn the tribe by using faculties that other members of the tribe actually do possess. He aims to produce twarfing from a trumple tree far away from the cliff. He hopes the twarfing will attract the attention of the Trollephants who will push Titans away from the cliff, thus turning the trajectory of the tribe.

Travis has learned that all original actions must be justified by reason; without precedence, they are not only morally suspect, but potentially disastrous. Reason demands that he respect certain conditions in order to effectively execute his plan. He must act according to the tradition/law/precedence (even if the law is corrupt). He knows that the consequence of rescuing the tribe by acting contrary to tradition would have the effect of justifying action other than acquiring trumples. The tribe depends on acquiring trumples for its sustenance, and also depends on imitation and tradition. Whatever Travis does, he suspects it will be imitated. As a Tweeble, he has only one choice. He must turn the tribe by tying Twarfers to trumple trees. There can be no alternative but death.

This is the first time in the story any Trylican does anything autonomously, that could be sincerely willed to be universal law, and treats others also as ends in themselves. According to Kant, Travis' trek to the distant trumple is the first truly moral act perpetuated by any Trylican.

Travis' course of action is also a moral act according to Mill, assuming rescuing the tribe is an end worth pursuing, and passes the test of whether the means justify it:

"All action is for the sake of some end, and rules of action, it seems natural to suppose, must take their whole character and colour from the end to which they are subservient. When we engage in a pursuit, a clear and precise conception of what we are pursuing would seem to be the first thing we need, instead of the last we are to look forward to. A test of right and wrong must be the means, one would think, of ascertaining what is right or wrong, and not a consequence of having already ascertained it." -Mill Utilitarianism

Travis uses imitation to his advantage. Since his actions are consistent with the tradition of tying Twarers, other Tweebles (those not paralyzed with despair) are comfortable coming to his aid. There is a possibility the imitating Tweebles comprehend the significance, and if so, could be acting morally as well.

Despair takes hold of Tweebles as they tie the twarfers. They cry, causing a great big mess.
Neither Mill nor Kant make a case that crying is an indication of moral worth. Folks are regularly affected to tears for trivialities, vain reasons, or possibly no reason whatsoever. (Of course, for the gravest reasons as well). I added this based on my observation that crying in the face of danger adds to despair, making conditions more hopeless, which adds to more tears. The self-destructive cycle is tragic, harmful, and universal (as we are all susceptible to it). However, to the degree it is a necessary end in itself, and with respect to empathy and emotion that would be willed to be universal law under the circumstances, I do not reject the possibility it is sometimes a categorical imperative. If the flood is interpreted this way, I would not object.

Now the plot thickens. The tribe dangles over the side of the cliff. The action that was previously immoral on both accounts (the tying of Tweebles to Titans) has the consequence of preserving the lives of many Trylicans.

The tears burst over the side in a waterfall, draining the flood, which allows the Tweebles to continue effectively tying Twarfers. Both of these events are completely unintended, incidental, consequences of Travis' plan.

For fun, Trylicans who had been expecting trumples are suddenly bewildered by their unfamiliar condition.

What is unfolding is a series of events that could not have been planned or predicted. Finally, after a tumultuous effort, one Trollephant finally hears the Twarfing and pushes one Titan toward Travis' Tweebles.
The Trollephant is acting according to tradition, but happens to be doing the right thing. Is the moral worth of his action dependent upon whether he can comprehend the nature of the events surrounding him correctly? Is this necessary for the Trollephant's action to have moral worth? We know that it is not enough that the act is consistent with duty, and that it must be carried out in the name of fulfilling a duty. But, he may have sincerely believed that he was fulfilling his duty while getting trumples for the tribe before, even as he was pushing them over a cliff. This suggests that in order for an action to have moral worth, it must be in the name of fulfilling the primary duty (rather than a means to something else), and comprehending the reasons, means, and possible ends for such duty, along with the alternatives. It suggests that reason, thought, and consciousness are required for morality. This contradicts the earlier claim, that thoughtlessness and "binding one's sense of duty to proven traditions and routine...[is necessary to]...preserving a state of moral purity."

Kant calls actions that are means to some end hypothetical imperatives. Therefore, anything done as a means to something else, even actions that aid in turning the tribe from total termination, are hypothetical imperatives that can be judged by their consequences. An action consistent with the categorical imperative is necessary and regarded as an end in itself and not merely a means; it has moral worth regardless of its consequences.

Despite the efforts of the Trollephants and Tweebles to retract the dangling tribe, the "Titans thrashed terribly" and "tens of Trylicans tumbled into the trough of tears below." This is an unintended consequence. Even the best efforts of the Tweebles, Trollephants, and Twarfers couldn't stop the helpless, dangling Titans from excusing themselves and their companions from the safety of the tribe. They act without precedence and not according to reason, but, in this case, panic and fear. They fall into the trough of tears that providence has provided them, incidental to the Trylicans' efforts. The torrent of tears happened to save the unfortunate Trylicans from death.

Remaining Trylicans are pulled to safety, and the tribe toddles toward tremendous tracts of trumples beyond.

The consequence of this tragedy is the loss of some Trylicans into the trough of tears below, and the turning of the tribe away from the cliff. The concluding text points out that "since telling tales was not tradition, all Trylican truths trickled into twilight, never to be twarfed again." In other words, when they eventually reach the cliff on the other side of the Triangle Top, they will probably suffer the same fate because they had not recorded and learned from history. (Tradition does have merit when fused with reason, and learning from history is arguably the most meritorious tradition humans have).

There is significance to the fact that "Travis was tossed into the trough of tears" (although, this is a bit esoteric). The individual who acts according to reason and opposes a popular tradition is an outlaw, and accepts full accountability for the results of their actions (good or bad, they cannot appeal to precedence). The Tweebles' way-of-life is challenged by Travis. Therefore, Travis is tossed into the trough (presumably by the other Tweebles). One could suspect the reasoning for this is utilitarian and two-fold, with one reason exposed and the other secret:

• The exposed reason is that Tweebles need trumple, and generally believe it cannot be acquired without tying Twarfers. Travis' act of tying Twarfers to Titans is contrary to their goals (generally) and not to be imitated in the future. While not exactly a crime, they use this as a scape goat to punish him as an example to the others in order to preserve their trumple-acquiring tradition.
  
• Secretly, they are also threatened by this "tenacious Tweeble" who thinks autonomously. They know they kidnap and assault Twarfers in order to acquire trumples. They fear they will starve without doing so. Yet, rather than defending these actions as necessary, they opt to toss Travis into the trough.

This suggests a popular willingness to kill an innocent Trylican in favor of defending a way-of-life that cannot be justified by reason. It reveals that the Tweebles will not only kidnap and assault to acquire trumples, but also murder (or attempt to murder) even the one who himself turned the tribe from total termination.

While the story had to be ended somewhere (and it's already complicated enough for children), there are finer points that could have rounded-out the message. Given more pages, I might have indicated that all the Tweebles contributed to the tossing of Travis. While any tradition that depends on murder is suspect, the unanimous agreement to toss Travis completely invalidates the last remaining justification for the Tweebles' way-of-life. Their last hope of justification was appealing to the blind, innocent, 'ape-like' imitation that prompted Tweebles to tie Twarfers. Yet, any innocent, imitating Tweeble would certainly not suddenly break tradition to participate in murder. This reveals that Tweebles are not thoughtless, and not dependent entirely upon imitation, but certainly capable of thinking for themselves. As such, if they do think for themselves, and prefer to kill rather than allow their traditions to be subject to scrutiny, they must not believe their traditions are justified.

This scenario should have saved the Tweebles and Twarfers the trouble and allowed them to have a greater sense of trust with one another (proving that, indeed, all Tweebles think). It should have dispelled the fallacy that Tryicans were bound to imitation and lacked reason. It should have been a profound reason to expect wonderful things from fellow Trylicans and emancipated the Twarfers.

Alas, they are Trylicans, not humans, and live in a depraved state of knowing, reasoning, but not having the faculty of communication. Therefore, they will be bound to their hopeless condition forever, only recognizing the fact that the others have reason upon facing calamity.

The story is essentially a critique of strict, traditional fundamentalism and moral absolutism, and I am always happy to discuss it further. Thanks for reading! -Mark

Technically Speaking

Technical writers are technically not just writers. They are interpreters, translators, communicators, and psychologists. Decent ones are also psychic and prescient. As such, I lament that I cannot hope to be even a decent one...

Although I am not a very good technical writer, I believe I can reasonably identify the results produced by one. Looking back upon the career of what would be the most successful example, I predict something like the following would be said...

"Mr. X delivered all his content in a concise, entertaining and seemingly effortless fashion. His readers found his material so appealing that learning was mysteriously converted from a chore to an irresistible obsession through his pen. Technical hurdles were not confronted, but dissolved as participants absorbed mountains of interrelated technical constructs in hypnotic fashion, not realizing the uncanny transfer of knowledge. He empowered the world with faculties never before imagined. The collective human capacity increased exponentially as a result of his eloquence. Hunger, war, corruption, violence, and all ailments that once contributed to human suffering were dispatched with fluency in his wake. The world we live in now, with its enlightened and mysterious glow of transcendent bliss, can be almost entirely attributed to the work of Mr. X. Once exposed to his contributions, no soul can return to their former depraved existence, and virtually all now share in the endless bounty of life, love, and happiness.

Yet, we never knew who Mr. X actually was. In fact, we cannot explain or even identify what he actually wrote, as his work was generally not signed. We can only identify his writing by the one characteristic..the mark of authenticity: that everything he wrote is so familiar and seemly that upon exposure we instantly believe that we already knew it. This poses a conundrum for most: how do we discern between the abilities he delivered to us, and those we discovered on our own?

There are a few with capacity to separate those concepts learned from Mr. X and those obvious to them before. This quiet minority still defends Mr. X against his assailants; the masses who attacked him for his efforts. How could anyone antagonize Mr. X, you ask? It is quite easier than you might think. While opening doors, Mr. X also revealed new ones that exposed dangerous complexities. By revealing the nature of our existence, Mr. X brought many proud souls to their knees in frustration, horrified to observe aspects of nature they had so long concealed. Many would not accept the responsibility of the truth, shielding their eyes from the empowering language before them, terrified. Many, ill-prepared for authority over their own lives, could only recoil to the shadows, perpetual victims. Still others refused to acknowledge his submissions altogether, and roamed in a meandering stupor of ignorance and confusion, unconsciously begging for meager scraps that they could neither assemble nor digest. Many were easily assimilated by the terrified. What Mr. X offered, while true, was not popular to a powerful minority who tended to occupy far less than they believed, and had far more to gain than they were capable of imagining. To absolve their fear, Mr. X was compromised materially and physically; two aspects of his existence that were of little value of him compared to the value he placed on his offerings for posterity. It is quite curious that, as a technical writer, he seemed not to have objectives beyond technical writing itself. Few today engage in this trade for amusement.

But was it only for amusement? His motives were mysterious and uncomfortable. He seemed not to write for income or esteem. The removal of fear was not his goal, as his writing did far more to provoke than relieve it. For what sake he acted is mysterious. A man without chains is threatening by nature. We confront one with nothing to lose as we confront a suicide bomber itching for destruction. How do we negotiate with one as comfortable with death as life? What truth can there be in his words? What can we have in common with such a figure? We take comfort and delight in he who can be bribed, rewarded, or punished. Mr. X, while qualified as a technical writer, was lacking in these most important worldly skills...

So today, after the conclusion of Mr. X's short and miserable life, we tip our hat to the technical writer who gave us everything we have. We also blame him for all of our problems and we scorn him for not giving us more than he did. Indeed, only a cruel heart can have such power and yet leave worldly suffering intact. Most importantly, we accuse him of exposing truth about the nature of some things we might have rather left hidden. For that, he may never be forgiven. I conclude by insisting that Mr. X's words be attacked until the end of time, or until they are refuted, whichever comes first."

Gunther's Great Campaign

Gunther sat upon his throne,
and sighed a long and lazy groan.
"No siege, no war, no plague or threat,
how boring can a kingdom get?!"

"No ramparts flecked with clanking swords.
No raids from savage, shrieking hordes.
No banging drums or ramming logs.
No droves of oinking battle hogs."

Just the lightest, wistful breeze
softly buffeting the trees.
Gunthor sulked, he shed a tear.
A king's agenda, free and clear.

So he mastered tic-tac-toe...
and bought a fiddle for his bow...
carved a totem with some ruffles...
trained his hogs to hunt for truffles.

He even bought a royal boat
to sail around the castle moat.
But no hobby would suffice,
or any toy, at any price...

Then the royal crier shouted.
"Lord, some dissidence hath sprouted.
Subjects do not care to pay
to watch you sail your boat all day."

Gunter sulked, he had to frown.
He did not mean to let them down.
If only bygone foes would wake.
Just one more siege? For old time's sake?

Alas, not one hostile flea.
And subjects would not let him be.
"Make it better" was their call. Wait!
Was he needed after all?

"The folks all say that change is good.
Improve my kingdom? Yes, I should!"
And what makes a kingdom great?
"Great people! These I must create!"

Council, tell me, please explain
the traits of whom I shall ordain.
What describes our kingdom's idol?
Drumphle, what deserves this title?

"YOUR MAJESTY, SO GREAT AND STRONG
NO NEED TO DRAG THIS OUT TOO LONG!
POWER, MIGHT, AND COURAGE REIGN!
FOR MEN AND KINGDOMS, BOTH THE SAME!"

“It isn’t so, your highness fair,”
objected a most proud Pierre.
“Grace in speech and looks that shine,
without these what can be divine?”

Gunther saw each point of view,
but couldn’t decide between the two.
“Melvin, oh so shrewd and old,
which man’s words shall I uphold?”

"Royal highness, wise and just,
for this I grant eternal trust:
Of greatness, one above his brother,
not one soul can best another."

The king was dour, and not amused.
He did not like to be confused.
So the three received their orders:
“Find the greatest in these borders!”

Drumphle shouted: "LET'S BEGIN!"
A soldier entered, tall and trim.
"WELL, GOOD EVENING TO YA MATE!
TELL US WHAT MAKES YOU SO GREAT!"

"DRAGONS SIRS, YES, TWO NOW SLAIN!
I ITCH TO FACE ONE YET AGAIN!
I AM GREAT BECAUSE I FIGHT!
I DO SO EVERY DAY AND NIGHT!"

Drumphle smiled, his thumb went high.
"GENTLEMEN, WE'VE GOT OUR GUY!
NOT ANOTHER IN THE LAND
HAS SLAIN ONE DRAGON WITH HIS HAND!

Pierre abruptly shook his head.
"Drumphle, look, his shoes are red.
No, it's just, this cannot do....
Heavens no, his socks are blue!"

Melvin turned, but would not say.
"My thumb need not go either way.
For one so great all must agree.
My vote, it would not count, you see?"

And in they came, all through the night.
Pierre and Drumphle, black and white.
Melvin dropped his lazy head.
He slept the night away instead.

Morn arrived, he felt a tap,
arousing Melvin from his nap.
Both their hands came into view.
Not one thumb was up, but two!

Melvin shook his head and sighed.
His thumb went down, the last, denied.
"Greatness is not ours to buy
not for all the Earth and sky."

Gunther stormed right through the door.
"I see not one could make the score.
None has greatness as he ought?!
This is far worse than I thought."

"Drumphle, front and center, please.
This kingdom has a bad disease,
each poor soul whom you dismissed,
into your army, will enlist."

"And you, Pierre, to fix this scourge
will take the ones among your purge.
Lead them from the stone ramparts
and train them in the finer arts."

"Go now, fix this awful mess.
Greatness! I demand no less.
Repair this broken population!
Or, endure harsh reprobation."

Pierre did what his king had said.
Exchanged their swords for spools of thread.
Guards and archers, strong and nimble,
traded gauntlets for a thimble.

Drumphle marched the student body
through the mud, unkempt and bawdy.
Took their brushes, pens, and locks,
and sent complainers to the stocks.

Progress swiftly underway,
it hastened through each night and day
"Do your best, for Gunther's sake!"
The kingdom's greatness was at stake.

Pierre was skilled and Drumphle bold,
but training soon required gold.
Gunther trusted their advice.
"Greatness! Yes! AT ANY PRICE!"

"Glitter Wagons? Oh what fun!"
But who needs glitter by the ton?
"Giant doilies? What is this?"
Something, plainly, was amiss.

"Lordship! Help! We have a mess!
A kingdom under great duress!"
Gunther nodded, filled with fret,
descended promptly into debt...

...

Greatness had all but expired.
Something drastic was required.
"To arms!" Gunther called the three,
"A war on mediocrity!"

Melvin gasped, "with due respect.
Reason prompts me to object."
Greatness, sir, comes from within.
A war to gain it cannot win!"

While they pondered Melvin's notion
Outside hummed a loud commotion.
Subjects gathered in the square
Demanding what was just and fair.

Gunther feared he was a goner,
having spent all but his honor.
Blunders rife, and widely known,
he surely would be overthrown.

But the sight was not so grim.
Their demands were not of him.
They knew what was fair and just.
It came from one another's trust.

Spindly builders offered tools
to husky tailors for their spools,
sewed some nifty shirts to swap,
and in turn received a shop!

Everywhere was restoration,
town alive with inspiration.
Building, fixing, helping others,
former subjects now like brothers.

"A lovely and forthright surprise!"
Greatness sprung before his eyes.
But poor Gunther was forlorn.
He'd only ruled, since he was born.

So he walked into the bustle.
None were looking for a tussle.
On a stump so all could see,
he offered his wholehearted plea.

"No, a builder I am not,
I can't even tie a knot.
But my service, it is yours,
How can I help your homes and stores?"

The people, an ambitious crew
had thought about his function too.
They handed him a special doily,
which he raised before him coyly.

"ON THIS DOILY, LOOK TO SEE
THE SUM OF YOUR AUTHORITY:
WHEN THERE IS NO SIEGE OR THREAT
YOU MUST NOT MAKE ONE! DON'T FORGET!"

"YOUR DUTY, SIR, IS TO PREVENT
ALL RULING WITHOUT OUR CONSENT.
NO TAKING SWORDS, NO GIVING SPOOLS
NO BREAKING THESE IMPORTANT RULES."

"IF YOU PLEDGE TO LET US BE
TO BUILD OUR KINGDOM OF THE FREE
YOU CAN HAVE YOUR HOME AND MOAT
WE'LL EVEN LET YOU KEEP YOUR BOAT."

Scanning each and every word,
he was amazed and reassured.
"The doily rules! Yes, I'll respect it,
preserve, protect, and defend it!"

All the people cheered and sang,
and up above, they heard a bang.
Glitter sparkled from the sky.
Throughout that warm night in July.

Gunther walked back to his throne.
The smile on his face had grown.
"No siege, no war, no plague or threat,
how greater can a kingdom get?!"