"Individuals are always stupid."

Individuals are always stupid.

Dr. David Acheson
Assistant Commissioner for Food Protection
(Food Safety Czar)
Food and Drug Administration
U.S. Dept. of Health and Human Services

This lovely little quote is from a spot on the Colbert Report regarding the raid of a raw foods store in California (Rawsome foods).

In the bit, he candidly explains how "raw milk has led to serious illness and death...ecoli, salmonella, diphtheria," how "the FDA is composed of public health professionals" and "is interested in protecting the public and public health." He calls any accusations about the FDA being under the umbrella of the WHO or the U.N. "nonsense."

Here is the quote in the context (presented by Colbert):

Rawesome employee: "If we're all adults, why can't we choose to drink paint if we want to?"

Mr. Acheson: "Individuals are always stupid."

I'm going to assume Mr. Achenson, being an individual, didn't really mean that.

I think he is really saying "people who depend entirely upon their own faculties do not benefit from the specialization provided for them by social partners, and are therefore stupid."

Fair enough, David?

If so, we are in agreement. We are exponentially smarter because we all benefit through the collaboration of specialized individuals. I learned not to drink paint without even having to try it for myself. I don't need to carry water in a bucket from the lake because water treatment professionals pipe it in for me. Everyone is smarter and more capable and more free because of specialization.

But, is raiding a market of willing buyers and sellers benefiting this social collaboration?

The assumption, made by this David individual, is that some buyers will be unintentionally harmed by this "unsafe" collaboration, and, therefore, "all of us" will be less-well-off as a whole if this collaboration is permitted. What has happened is very simple: David has responded to a demand, by the people, to save themselves. He is simply responding to a legitimate need for safe food. The only problem is–he is doing it very, very poorly...

We all want safe food. Why does getting it require men with guns?

There is a correct answer.

Because we lacked the leadership and imagination that could have otherwise peacefully responded to the true demand for safe food.

Here's what really happened: no businessman had the balls to invest in a real, large-scale, quality-control business (as prevalent in other industries). As such, the issue struck the bargain-basement social safety net of government responsibility, and we all suffer from this stagnant, unchecked, authoritarian, armed government food safety monopoly.

Rather than respond to real public demand, bureaucrats manufacture an estimate of the public demand. They basically say: "people want 'safe' food, so that is what we will give them." Then, they get together to define "safe," author verbose works of fiction, and, if you don't agree with their story, they brandish a weapon. Their narcissism, believing that they know what is best for you, is one culprit.

But, they couldn't have gotten their without your tacit consent. You, the American citizen, is culpable for begging your government for a food safety handout. You gave your hard-earned money away to thieves with guns who write laws that they can shoot you for violating. What the hell did you expect? Safer food is not free. TNSTAAFSL (There's No Such Thing As A Free Safe Lunch), and, in this case, your payment is not only the scourge of taxes ripped from your wallet, but the harassment of armed soldiers.

Is that really the price of safe food?

Consider a non-authoritarian approach. Any quality-control company would immediately recognize the demand for safe raw milk. Competing quality-control companies would jump at the chance to be the first to provide safe raw milk. (Unsafe raw milk is most common in large, industrial farms with drugged-up cows). Consumers, none of whom wish to get sick, would highly value the company's identification of a safe raw product, and pay a fair price for it. Yes, safe raw milk would be expensive, but you could actually buy it.

In our current authoritarian system, you cannot buy "safe" raw milk. Because of laws, no quality control company has the incentive to illegally establish an underground "safe raw milk" certification program. No, instead, you trust the individual farmer who offers the black market raw milk. The farmer is also the quality control specialist because the government effectively prohibits specialization in this field.

How is this collaboration with social partners?

According to their site, the FDA is responsible for...

protecting the public health by assuring the safety, effectiveness, and security of human and veterinary drugs, vaccines and other biological products, medical devices, our nation’s food supply, cosmetics, dietary supplements, and products that give off radiation

What about the "safety" and "security" of the raw milk portion of our nation's food supply? If raw milk is not suitable for consumption, why call it "food" in the first place? Classify the stuff as a type of white paint. Everybody knows not to drink paint. "You drank raw milk? Why would you do a stupid thing like that? You had it coming." Let the crazies do what they will with their raw milk. If labeling "milk" a type of "paint" prevents the raiding and pillaging of innocent people, I say do it! This new legal definition is no less of a fiction than your other ridiculous legislative compositions.

David Acheson is correct that an individual is stupid. He is stupid when he believes he can force another not to harm himself. So blithe an error seems easily dispatched, but is the lifeblood and justification for all governance. It is proven wrong in every case, yet we cling to it. We acknowledge and champion the truth intuitively in all great works of art, movies, novels. Yet, in practice, we are terrified of it. We continue have faith in this grand fallacy that other individuals are stupid and unworthy of the opportunity to earn their own lives. We cannot stop the suicide bomber, yet, we believe we can stop the man from drinking from an udder. In practice, our terrified, apathetic, nihilistic will continues to worship this great golden calf and believes it has the divine power and inclination to save us from ourselves. It cannot. When we replace the "we" for "I" I it is obvious that David Acheson is full of shit. You are not stupid.

I'm going to go drink some paint.

The Complete History of the U.S.S.R

Arranged to the theme from Tetris...

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...]

Trouble in Geitnerville

Today, children, let's visit three inhabitants of the tiny village of Geitnerville.

• Meet Larry. Larry is a farmer. He produces food.
• Meet Barry. Barry is a builder. He builds houses and barns.
• Now meet Mary. Mary is a seamstress. She makes clothing.

Larry Mary and Barry lived peacefully on the outskirts of town, just on the edge of the countryside. They were pioneers in their time, having uprooted everything to escape the perils of the east in search of a better life. They traveled to Geitnerville in covered wagons, settling on the lonesome prairie where they were delighted to find a place where they believed hard work just might bless them with an honest, rewarding life. Let's learn about how these courageous, hard-working folks spent their daily lives among the tall grass and tumbleweeds, and how Geitnerville became the vastly different place it is today.

Let's take a regular Monday in the early days, just after Geitnerville was founded. On these calm summer mornings Larry would awaken to the familiar call of the rooster, don his overalls and boots, and walk across the yard to his tiny chicken cage. It was a small and rickety old structure, and occupied with as many chickens as it could house. There he would feed and water the fluttering birds and gather all the eggs, placing them carefully into a straw basket cushioned by tufts of hay. As the sun would just begin to illuminate the purple clouds Larry would walk over to Mary's house. He usually had, oh, from about 6 to 8 eggs.

The dirt path to Mary's place wound over some hills, through some woods, and right past the property of our builder, Barry. Barry was a gruff, disagreeable man, with "No Trespassing" signs posted all along the outskirts of his land. Larry would usually see Barry hammering nails into some building during these morning excursions, and the two rarely spoke. Barry was always building something. One day, Barry was working on the tall wooden fence that buttressed the side of the dirt path, perched a few yards high. He didn't notice that Larry had approached. He was standing almost directly beneath him when he shouted a greeting:

"Good morning to you Barry!"

Barry looked down at Larry for a moment with iron nails sticking out of his mouth. He mumbled something, and then resumed his hammering. Larry continued...

"Say, Barry, I've got a couple extra eggs this morning. Would you like them?"

Larry wasn't sure if Barry heard him over the pounding of nails, and was about to repeat himself when he saw the hammer bounce off a post and fall to the ground. Barry grunted, and looked down for a moment, reaching to the side of his tool belt for his extra hammer. Larry noticed two hammers sat on the ground next to each other. "Oh, he must have dropped both his hammers," thought Larry, and saving Barry the trip down from the fence, decided he would be helpful and hand them up.

Seeing Larry reach for one of the hammers, Barry jumped off the fence and landed hard on the ground, tumbling a bit. It was quite a distance. He rose to his feet and snatched the hammer from Larry's hand.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Mr., um, what's your name again?"

"Larry. I'm the farmer who lives down the path over the hill."

"Oh, right, well, you can keep your hands off of my property, Larry. I'll do just fine by myself, thank you."

"I was only trying to help. So, will you take these two extra eggs? If you don't want them they will go to waste."

"Ya," said Barry, "sure am hungry."

Larry handed a gift of the smallest two eggs to Barry, who took them and walked back to his house without saying a word. Larry had never met so gruff a man, but was glad his two extra eggs didn't go to waste.

Larry continued on his journey to Mary's place, which was down a slope in the heart of the river valley. When he got there, Mary and Larry ate breakfast together. In return for his eggs, Mary gave Larry all kinds of clothes...hats, scarves, shirts, and gloves. Mary was the best seamstress around, so Larry preferred to exchanged his eggs for the clothes Mary made. On this particular morning, Larry received some work gloves, as his had almost worn out.

Larry could never stay long at Mary's place. There was a lot of work to do back at the farm. That day, on the way back from Mary's, Larry saw Barry again working on the fence. Larry waved at Barry on his way past and Barry seemed to ignore him. Then, after Larry had passed by, the pounding of nails stopped for a moment and Barry hollered:

"Hey, Larry, you got any more of those eggs!?"

Larry turned around and walked back to where Barry was sitting way up on the fence.

"Sorry, Larry, I'm all out today. But most days I have one or two extra. Would you like me to bring you some tomorrow again on my way to Mary's place?"

Barry, raised his hand to his chin, thinking for a moment.

"Those eggs were tasty. Larry, tell me, do you need anything built on your farm?"

Larry was surprised as he looked up at Barry, who had always been quite uncharitable and a bit of a recluse. Larry had, in fact, been planning to build a new chicken coop himself, but never had the time. There were simply too many other things to do on the farm.

"Well, Barry, I do need a larger chicken coop. I could sure use your help sometime if you're not too busy."

"I will build it for you myself, Larry, if you promise to give me two eggs every morning. I'll build it just like the one I built for Henry."

Larry knew a chicken coop like Henry's was exactly what he needed. With it, he could raise many more chickens in the future and assure himself many extra eggs. But, he would need to get by with very little while it was being built. He looked at Barry, arms folded, waiting for his response. Everyone knew that Barry was a good builder, and a man who kept his word. He thought about how many eggs he could spare. It wasn't very many, but there was no harm in offering them.

"I can spare two eggs a day for the next 60 days if you will build me a chicken coop like Henry's."

Barry extended his hand and Larry shook it, wincing at the extremely firm grasp. Then, Barry nodded earnestly, turned around, and dutifully walked back to his fence. Larry continued on his journey back to his farm and spent the rest of the day finishing his chores. There was a full day of work ahead of him, as usual, and no time to lose as he skillfully worked his fields.

As Larry dug his hoe into the rich soil he pondered the seemingly magical quality of his agreement. He, of course, always took good care to understand every aspect of his activities, and knew this promise with Barry included some undeniable risks. He thought about all the many possibilities:

• Would the chickens lay enough eggs?
• Would Barry build it well and in a reasonable amount of time?
• What if Barry got hurt somehow or the chickens died of disease?
• Or, what if any number of unexpected things happened?
  

There was no way to know, with absolute certainty, that Barry would actually build the chicken coop. At the same time, Larry could not be absolutely certain that he would be able to give Barry the eggs as promised. In fact, when he really thought about it, he wondered how he could have possibly made such a claim. What he and Barry actually did was make a prediction about the future. They both made assumptions that the other could accurately make this prediction, even though both knew it was absolutely impossible to do such a thing.

Yet, if he did deliver the eggs, his prediction would come true, and Barry would see that not only was he a farmer, but a person capable of foretelling the future. This seemed like a risky, but thrilling proposition, and Larry was far from a coward. "Why not," he thought. After all, he depended on his own predictions all the time. Without them he could not live. He always predicted that...

• The snow would melt in the spring. It always did.
  
• The rain would water his fields. It (almost) always did.
  
• The seeds would grow into plants. Yes.
  
• The plants would bear food for him to eat. Yes.
  

All of this happened with enough regularity that he could depend upon it. He realized that if he did not make predictions, he would starve. Larry decided he could, in some sense, follow the example of the crops and the seasons. If he kept his word, and delivered the eggs as promised, Barry could depend on him like one depends on the seasons. Also, if Barry built his coop, he knew that he would trust Barry's strong handshake in the future.

"Wouldn't it be great," Larry thought, "if it was a fact that predictions could be made about other people? That would mean wonderful things."

He realized that if Barry could transform 60 days worth of eggs into a chicken coop, from Barry's point of view, Larry would transform some time and labor into delicious eggs. This had wonderous implications. That meant that one day, perhaps, eggs could be transformed into other things too...even a new barn. After all, his new chicken coop would mean more eggs.

Larry knew it was a risk, but it was a risk he was willing to take, because of the many years he had spent making good predictions for himself. Still, he was a bit nervous about this new idea, and was willing to go hungry if he needed to to make sure Barry got those eggs. If he could prove this new talent of his...making predictions...he could accomplish many things never before possible.

The next morning Larry awoke from his restless slumber at the usual time, but, something was different. Along side the rooster, Larry heard the sounds of sawing and hammering. Startled, he hurriedly stood up from his bed and rushed to the window. To his astonishment, there was Barry, already hard at work building the new chicken coop!

Larry got dressed, walked across the yard, and gathered the eggs for himself and Mary as the pounding and sawing continued. As he walked by Barry, he shouted:

"I left two eggs for you in the old coop. There's a frying pan in the kitchen. The door's open."

Barry looked up from the wood he was sawing long enough to nod, then continued to concentrate on his work. Larry made due with one egg for breakfast that day, and every day for the rest of the week, making sure Barry got the two he was promised. Even if he was a bit hungry, this new idea was working far better than expected. By Friday, the new coop was finished, and Larry moved his chickens.

Larry was amazed at how fast Barry completed the project, and how soon he was able to begin expanding his flock. But, he was still very hungry, not having enough eggs for himself. At first he questioned whether he made the right decision, not realizing that his supply of eggs would be stressed so much. But, as the weeks and months passed, Larry was able to triple the number of chickens, and eventually he could count on enough eggs for both Barry and himself, as well as the ones he needed to trade to Mary for her clothing.

Barry was quite satisfied with Larry, and received his eggs every day for the full 60 days. He learned that Larry was good for his word, and continued to build additional projects for Larry in exchange for an even greater quantity of eggs, which were now available in abundance.

This was the routine in Geitnerville for many years.

Finally, one day, Larry decided he was tired of walking over to Mary's place all the time. And, he now had even more eggs than Barry needed. So, he gave Ziggy one egg each morning to carry the other eggs to Barry and Mary and bring back the clothes from Mary. Ziggy delivered all sorts of things to and from all three, and was able to live comfortably on the eggs, clothes, and even a small hut built by Barry in return for his delivery services. With every new project and agreement, it became more certain that his predictions could be trusted, and that they were beneficial to everyone involved.

But, there was a problem.

Barry learned that he also liked ham with his eggs.

Hearing this, and liking ham himself, Larry decided that he would raise hogs in addition to chickens, so that one day he could afford to ask Barry to build him a barn. Barry agreed that he would build the barn, so long as he had ham every morning with his eggs for 100 days. They signed the agreement that Barry would begin work after the first three weeks of ham and egg breakfasts.

By now Larry had several extra chickens, and traded 6 for a hog. (He learned that things were just as easily traded for other things as they were for time and labor.)

But, one hog was enough for many, many breakfasts. This was a conundrum. Larry wondered how he could provide Barry with ham every morning when meat only lasted a day before it went bad. He certainly couldn't butcher one hog every day and waste almost all of it...he would be out of chickens to trade in days. So, Larry told Ziggy to deliver a hog to Baxter the butcher so the meat could be smoked and preserved. Baxter, who lived in town, agreed to preserve the meat, but, the preserved meat only lasted a week and there was enough to feed one man months of breakfasts.

Baxter had a solution.

"I will give you 8 pieces of silver in order to keep the extra ham."

Larry found this ridiculous. He responded,

"What will I do with silly pieces of metal?"

Baxter explained that Larry could use the silver to help acquire another hog. "In fact, Jim, the man who raises hogs will give you a hog for 12 pieces of silver," said Baxter, "you can exchange the 8 pieces of silver and two chickens to get your next hog, rather than trading a full 6 chickens as you did before."

Larry had never seen or touched silver in his life. He didn't see how the tiny pieces of shiny metal could be exchanged for things, but he knew he could trust Baxter. If it was true, that he could take the silver to Jim in return for a very cheap hog (only 2 chickens!), he would be able to maintain a steady supply of ham for Barry's breakfasts. This meant all he had to do was tell Ziggy, once a week, to deliver the hog to Baxter, bring back the 8 pieces of silver and the week's worth of preserved ham, then, tell Ziggy to take two chickens and the silver to Jim, and bring back another hog. He knew he was depending on his predictions, but he had learned to trust Ziggy and Barry, and had no reason to assume he couldn't also trust Baxter. Besides, this is what it would take in order for Barry to build his barn. Barry would not build the barn without ham. Larry knew that once he had a barn, he could raise hogs himself, and wouldn't have to trade chickens or silver for them at all!

And, he had a little known secret he kept all to himself...he knew that even if Ziggy and Baxter let him down, he still had enough eggs to survive under the power of his own hard work. After much thought, this was the final reason he decided to proceed on the quest for his barn.

On the first day of this grand experiment everything went according to plan. Ziggy brought the hog to town where Baxter exchanged it for a week's worth of smoked ham and 8 pieces of silver. Ziggy carried the ham and silver to back to Larry. Larry grabbed two chickens and the silver, and headed over to Jim's place to trade it for another hog while Ziggy carried ham and eggs to Barry, who was busy drafting up a barn design, and eggs to Mary. Mary had a shirt to trade for the eggs. So, Ziggy carried the shirt back to Larry's farm, and arrived about the same time as Larry returned from Jim's place with the new hog. But, to Larry's delight, the hog only required 6 pieces of silver instead of 8 because his chickens were extra plump. So, Larry hid one extra silver piece under his mattress, and gave the other extra one to Ziggy. Other people around Geitnerville were trying to get Ziggy to carry things around, and Larry wanted to be sure Ziggy would continue to work for him.

Everyone was benefiting from this arrangement, even Baxter, who happened to acquire his silver by selling the extra smoked ham to travelers and other town folk. In fact, pieces of silver became quite popular indeed. While Larry was able to farm and continue to offer eggs and ham to Barry, he was also able to save 1 silver piece a week. At the same time, visitors from far away lands would sell farming tools that made Larry's job easier. In fact, when Larry had saved enough silver he purchased a steel plow and an ox. This allowed him to grow more corn, which allowed him to feed more chickens and hogs. Before long, Baxter had so much delicious smoked ham that he lowered the price in order to sell it all before it went bad. As a result, people traveled from far and wide to purchase it.

One day, Larry asked Barry if he would accept silver as payment instead of ham and eggs. Barry thought that was a great idea. Then, he asked Mary if she would take silver as payment instead of eggs. Mary also agreed. It turns out everyone liked silver for the same reason Larry did. Barry traded the silver for building tools and Mary traded her silver for finest, most durable fabric. With the extra tools, Barry was able to finish Larry's barn well ahead of schedule, and Mary's work gloves and overalls were lasting Larry twice as long as before. This allowed Larry to save even more of his silver, Mary to charge a bit more for her clothes, and Barry to finish the barn early and get started with other projects.

In fact, one day Barry met with Ziggy and Baxter. The three of them decided to build a market in the middle of town. Barry and his builders would build the market. Ziggy and his helpers would bring food to the market from Larry's farm, and other farms. Baxter would smoke and prepare the food for purchase. Before long, Larry didn't have to bring food to anyone himself. And, he no longer needed to acquire hogs from Jim now that he raised his own in the barn Barry built for him. Ziggy's helpers brought all the food to market, and everyone simply went to the market to purchase his food.

One day, Ziggy came to Larry's farm and handed Larry the bag of silver from Baxter. Larry reached in, handed Ziggy his payment of 4 silver pieces, and placed the rest in his pocket. Ziggy took the silver piece, dropped it in his own bag, and emptied his own collection of silver pieces into his hand. Larry was amazed. Ziggy had saved a large handful of silver.

"I would like to purchase one hog and two dozen eggs from you, Larry. I will pay you 50 silver pieces for it."

Larry was surprised. He had only sold his hogs to Baxter. Ziggy was just the delivery man.

"If I sell the hog and eggs to you, I won't have any for Baxter," said Larry.

"I know, but you will have the same amount of silver. Besides, I intend to sell the hog and eggs to Baxter. This way, you do not need to pay me a delivery fee, as I will keep the extra silver from the transaction."

Larry rubbed his chin, and after some discussion, finally agreed to take the 50 pieces of silver for a hog and 2 dozen eggs. He realized that Ziggy's 50 pieces of silver was just as good as anyone's.

So, in other words, instead of collecting silver in exchange for food and delivering it back to Larry, Ziggy was actually purchasing the eggs and ham directly from Barry with silver, and then selling it to Baxter at the market for a bit more silver than he gave to Larry for the food. When everybody first learned that he was doing this, they did not like it.

One day, as Ziggy was carrying food from Larry's farm to the market, Mary approached Ziggy. She told Ziggy she knew what he was doing. She said:

"I know you gave Larry 50 silver pieces for those ham and eggs. And, I also know that Baxter will pay you 55 silver pieces for those exact same ham and eggs when you get to the market. How can the same food be worth 50 silver pieces at Larry's farm and 55 silver pieces at the market? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I never really saw it that way," said Ziggy. "I am only saving Larry the trouble of waiting for his payment. You see, I once carried all those ham and eggs to you and Barry and others each morning and then returned the next day to give Larry the silver you paid him for his food. Then, he would give me a portion of that silver for delivering those goods. Before long, I brought back 55 pieces of silver on every trip and he paid me 4 pieces for the fast and safe delivery. Well, one day, when I had saved enough silver, I offered to take the food and pay him 50 pieces on the spot. Larry was amazed that I would buy it all. He asked why I would do such a thing. I told him that I was going to sell all the food to Baxter for 55 pieces of silver and keep those 5 pieces instead of the 4 he would have otherwise paid me. Larry thought about it. He decided he liked receiving the silver right away. It allowed him to buy more hogs that particular day. So he agreed to accept 50 pieces instead of the 51 he would have received the next morning (after paying me 4 pieces). Then, Baxter paid me the same 55 pieces as before and I could afford to purchase more food from Larry the next day and do the same thing. Do you see, Mary? I'm just doing what anybody could do. You can be sure that if anyone else offered Larry more than 50 pieces of silver for this food he would sell it to them instead of me. Also, if Baxter could buy the food for less than 55 pieces from anyone else, he certainly would. So, in order to make my small profit, I must pay a specific amount to Larry, and sell at a specific price to Baxter."

Mary was impressed with Ziggy's explanation, and understood that there was nothing at all wrong with Ziggy's plan. She understood that he was simply earning an honest living by hauling food from one place to another, and that both Larry and Barry approved of the arrangement. Then, she looked down at the pile of shirts in her arm...

"Say, I was expecting to walk all the way to the market and spend all day selling these shirts. I would much rather go back to my house so I can spend that time making more shirts. I was expecting to trade them for 20 pieces of silver. I will sell them to you right now for 18 pieces."

Ziggy thought about the extra weight the shirts would add to the cart he was pulling. He thought about how busy the market would be, and what he would do with the shirts if they didn't sell. He figured he could sell them at a later time if they didn't sell right away. Then, he looked down at his tattered shirt, smiled, and made his decision.

"Yes, Mary, I would be glad to purchase your shirts. In fact, I will wear one myself to show everyone at the market how comfortable and stylish your clothes are."

Mary handed the shirts to Ziggy and Ziggy dropped 18 pieces of silver into Mary's hand. Mary smiled broadly and they both cordially bowed their heads and went on their way. Secretly, Mary knew that she would have gladly accepted as few as 15 pieces of silver for those shirts. At the same time, Ziggy knew that not only did he need a new shirt, but that he would be able to sell the others for at least 25 pieces of silver, which he later did. Both Ziggy and Mary could have received more silver from the transaction, but neither complained.

About this time Larry was getting enough silver from Ziggy to pay helpers to plant and harvest the corn and raise the chickens and hogs. Barry had enough silver to pay fellow builders to help him with his construction projects. Mary had enough silver to pay seamstresses to help her make more clothes. So many people came to Geitnerville to sell their products that many decided to move there permanently. The new residents all traded their silver for food, houses, and clothes, and Larry, Barry, and Mary were always very busy.

Larry was so busy that he stopped farming altogether, and spent all of his time managing his helpers and dealing with his large collection of silver. By now, Larry had a whole dresser drawer filled with silver. This pile of metal wasn't doing him much good just sitting there, so he hired Barry to build a grainery. Barry was already too busy building houses, so Barry's partner, Terry, built it instead. Then, Larry decided he needed new clothes, because all of his farm clothes were worn out. He hired Mary and her helpers to sew him a new wardrobe. Ziggy also had so much silver that he was able to buy a large carriage and Baxter now had an enormous market in the middle of town.

Baxter was selling so much ham that he offered Larry much silver for many more hogs. In order to raise the hogs Larry invited many more helpers, which he paid with silver. Ziggy paid his own army of helpers a portion of his silver, and Barry paid his many builders a portion of his, as did Mary, who now had a bustling clothing store. Larry, Barry, Mary, and Ziggy needed so much help that the tiny village quickly expanded to a township and then a city.

One evening, as Larry was relaxing, reading a newspaper, he heard a knock at the door. He opened the door to find a visitor he had never met before.

"Greetings, Larry, my name is Timothy Geitner. I am here to relieve you of your silver."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Larry looked behind Mr. Geitner and saw five men with rifles pointed directly at him.

"But Mr. Geitner, this is not my silver. These are simply pieces of metal that represent the hogs and chickens I am obligated to deliver to my customers. They are simply placeholders for time and labor of the people I have made agreements with. I must ask you to leave these pieces of metal alone for the sake of, well, everyone in town."

"I'm sorry, but this is my silver now. I have renamed the city 'Geitnerville,' and now lay claim to all of your money."

The city had been named something else up until that point. No one today remembers what it was.

Then, Timothy and the men with guns entered Larry's house and loaded his silver into wheelbarrows, then emptied it onto their large cart along with all the other silver in town and carried it away.

The next day everyone in town gathered on Larry's farm wondering what to do. Larry reminded everyone how he and Barry and Marry and Ziggy were all able to get along just fine before any of them had even seen a piece of silver. He told them the story of how years ago he carried eggs to Barry in return for his new chicken coop, and how it was the trust and hard work between Larry and Barry that allowed them to succeed. He reminded them that all trades are nothing more than a bond of trust between two or more people, and that silver is only as valuable as the trust behind it.

Now that we know a character like Timothy Geitner can simply haul away this means of exchange, it is no longer backed by trust anyway, and is completely worthless. Therefore, citizens of Geitnerville, I ask you to follow the example of Barry, Mary, Ziggy, Baxter, Jim, and myself, who will be writing signed contracts with each other for all of our trades. When you see our signature, you will honor it as well as you honor our word.

Most of all, look around you. Look at the good people you have worked with for so many years. These are honest, hard-working, trustworthy people, and you know as well as I that their promise is worth more silver that all the piles in Mr. Geitner's grand estate.

Alright folks, you get it. Let's get back to work. There's no shortage of that...

The End of the Line (cont)

This was an unfamiliar situation.

The hysteria had driven virtually every coworker, friend, and family member into the street. From my office window I watched the organism stretch out like a snake, the tops of thousands of heads moved at a snail's pace. It was too slow to see, but I detected one distinctive red hat was a half-block closer than before. Beside the crowd there was a perpetual stream of people rushing towards the end of the line...grown men and women with their business clothes, briefcases, dresses, high heels. Some were obviously not accustomed to running, and the frantic desperation fed the aura of panic. The sight was mystical and hypnotic, and the dramatic suddenness of it all tempted my curiosity...drew me in.

Tearing my eyes from the spectacle, I observed my office...the scattered pieces of paper on the floor...the half-full mugs of coffee.

Creepy.

I sat in a chair and thought for a while. I could almost hear the voices of everyone urging me to join the line. I checked my phone. Their texts and emails inquired how close I was to the front. I wondered if I would regret my hesitation, picking up a half-eaten bagel from my neighbor's desk. I brushed off the dried onions (yuck) and took a bite. I realized I hadn't eaten all day. Ah, laziness...procrastination.

Was I missing out?
Would I have a job tomorrow?
Was the line my only hope?

I looked at the reports on the desk in front of me next to the open container of cream cheese. The cover page was impressive, with bold colors and intricate designs. It was crafted for the executive staff meeting that afternoon. Us grunts were asked to boil expansive constructs down to a few simple charts and pictures for the guys up top. We always knew it wasn't the full picture, but what are you going to do? The bean counters in suits never had time to read reports or mull over figures anyway...it was all we could do just to show them a cartoonish illustration that hinted at the real story.

Knowing the reports would never get reviewed with any scrutiny, creative pictures became paramount. Those of us who gathered and compiled the data were bemused by this. Half-eaten-bagel-on-desk lady always drew up some impressive figure that over-simplified and trivialized our situation to the point of hysterics...never missing the wooden clogs and Dutch-style wind mills to illustrate wind-speed metrics at proposed turbine sites. A laugh was always welcome between the leather chairs. It was usually half the story, but any attempt to explain the full story would have been even-more-greatly misinterpreted in that posed, superficial glance. In other words, by counting on the execs to judge a book by its cover, there was not only room for obfuscation, but a necessity for it. (At least that's what she said). Then, we would quietly laugh at the final decisions, but what did we know? They were paid to see the big picture, not us.

Recognizing the negligence, us stat guys barged into a meeting one time to try to tell the big shots the real story. They didn't like our geeky graphs as much as the pretty wooden shoes and colorful pictures. A buddy of mine got canned for that.

I looked at my desk and the piles of data that needed crunching. I looked around and noticed the phones off the hook, the trash cans knocked over. I had never seen evidence of such urgency in the history of the company. I guess they were all in a hurry to get a good place in line...to stand and wait for whatever they could get.

Perhaps I should have bowed down on the cold ground. Maybe then it would have been worth it...worth the handout. Ha, me...reduced to a professional beggar. Shame on me for even thinking such a thing. But, would I? Could I resist such a thing...easy money picked from trees for a couple soiled knees?

I stood up and walked back to the window. The power was out. It was dark. By the moonlight I could see the members of the organism crowded closely together in the cold like penguins. The ones on the outside would only stay there for a while before nudging inward where it was warmer. Apparently this was faith...this was hope. Without heat the office was getting colder. I found a blanket, grabbed a half jelly doughnut from the CFO's desk and went to sleep in the broom closet.

The End of the Line

The air was still and the morning was silent. I could hear a single bird in a tree somewhere beside the mall. There was a slight mist in the air, and I felt as if the impending sunrise would be a show designed specifically for me as the lonely, leafless trees cast a silhouette against the purple sky. I could barely see my breath through the darkness, and wondered if so tranquil a morning had ever existed in the center of this desolate suitcase metropolis. I couldn't know. It was a foreign place, having just relocated, and I was just beginning to acquire a taste for my new frame of reference.

Somehow, in those days, the natural beauty and predictability of a sunrise helped soothe the perpetual anxiety of daily life. Perhaps it was the welcome evidence that policy had not yet abated the rotation of the earth, or blocked out the sun. I slowed to a contemplative walk as I followed along side the marble surfaces, pondering the best vantage point. I wanted to bask at the fringe of the great expanse to pretend, for just a moment, that it was mine. I wanted to imagine the first light of day broke over my kingdom...the one I had conquered...that I could claim as my own. At this sleepy hour my imagination could do wonders before the sparse, open landscape, and for that point in time, the most delightful point in the day, one tiny insignificant soul could stand on top of the world and virtually taste the limitless possibilities.

However, on this morning, the extraordinary would not require imagination.

From behind a building I emerged to the edge of the urban prairie as the quiet suggested an elevated degree of desolation. But, as I moved into the open space I suddenly found myself standing in a place I had never been. Everything was new, even though I always took the exact same path. It was as if I was a child in a grocery store, suddenly realizing the skirt of the woman walking next to me was not my mother's. I paused and looked around...

Without a moon there was little resolution, but enough to verify something very unusual in front, and all around me. Where an endless plain of grass should have been sat a rugged landscape, like moguls as far as could be seen through the dark haze. I became instantly paralyzed, and squinted to identify the outlines of familiar monuments among the multitude of these foreign curiosities. They were there, and only by those white shapes could I detect my general location in this alternate world I had stumbled upon.

By now the light was invading the dawn with increased velocity, and I could see that each mound was unique, with its own shape and size. As I grew near, what began to materialize was disturbing and surreal. They were people. In front of my feet I observed a tall young man in jeans and a black suit coat. His knees and forehead were pressed against the ground, and his hands were open upon the grass in front of him. He was as still as a statue.

They were all as still as statues.

They were dressed in various styles and colors of clothing, some with backpacks, some with hats. Some wore expensive suits with ties, black polished shoes, a briefcase beside them. Others had cameras around their necks. They could have been average folks taken from the streets...maybe they were. There was such an explosion of diversity in every way, with one exception...they were all motionless, bowing on the ground, and faced in exactly the same direction.

What was this? Was it a vigil? Was it a seance of some kind? My breathing was deliberate and my hands began to tremble.

There was subtle motion. They were alive, and conscious, their bodies shifting slightly to maintain a measure of comfort against what must have been a very cold surface. I could hear the leaves shuffle under my feet as I walked beside them. A chill rushed up my spine and I shuddered as I noticed the diagonals between perfectly spaced rows, like the white stones across the river in Arlington.

"What was I missing," I thought? Why had I not been invited to this event, and why was I not taking part? I felt a sense of urgency, as if I was either imposing or acting inappropriately somehow. I noticed a few discreet eyes wander in my direction. I could not tell whether they were afraid...disobedient in looking at me, or whether they disapproved of my presence. I dared not ask, as each seemed deep in either concentration or a trance of some kind. They were very serious. I walked along, mystified and curious.

Other strange shapes began to materialize along the fringe where I was walking. I noticed abandoned machinery. I passed a jackhammer, a forklift, a truck, and all sorts of other implements, all strewn along the perimeter. It looked as if they had been dropped in a haphazard, hurried fashion. I walked by a bulldozer and noticed the door was still open and the keys were still in the ignition. Whatever their cause, I decided it must be very important. Why would anyone abandon their valuable tools like that? What was so dire that all work needed to be instantly suspended?

My inclination was to discover their purpose, and, if sensible, to join them. I wanted to know what they knew...what reason for this behavior at such an awkward time. After all, I figured no congregation of so many could be joined together without some cause.

I looked up and noticed the sun had peaked over the horizon behind them, burning the mist away. It was beautiful, and began casting long shadows toward the front of the crowd. As the visibility improved I noticed there were many more of them than I could have possibly imagined. There were tens if not hundreds of thousands of them. I turned to look in the direction they were facing.

The scene grew more coherent as I saw the figure in front of them. They all appeared to be bowing to a well-dressed gentleman who was standing high upon the steps in front of them. He was basking in the first rays of light. Apparently, he had positioned himself so that he was illuminated, as if by a spotlight, between the shadows from the distant structures. It was a breathtaking sight, and he did look very impressive, yet also casual and approachable. He seemed to be writing something on his podium. I decided to walk over to him.

As my foot pressed against the first step his head rose from the paper in front of him, and he smiled. He watched me ascend the steps with an inviting, cheerful look, as if he had been expecting me.

I spoke first.

"Hi there. Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

"I'll say so. Spectacular. So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I just wanted to know what everyone is doing out here so early. Why have all these folks decided to bow down on the ground? I don't understand."

"Have they?" He looked out to the crowd. "Oh, yes, I suppose they have."

"They seem to be praying or worshiping, or something."

"It does appear that way, doesn't it? Well, I would not want to interfere. After all, every citizen is entitled to worship however they please in this country."

"I wonder why they are here, on the lawn?"

"Well, it's hope, I guess. Faith, maybe. Hope is the dream of a soul awake, my friend. You know, if you never give up, and follow your dreams, anything is possible."

"Yes, I agree. But, well, they seem to be placing their hope and faith in you, sir."

"Yes, I see that. And, well, since they are depending on me, I do not intend to let them down. I am hopeful myself, you see, that we can withstand any crisis so long as we stick together."

"I see. So, are you saying you are also hopeful. But, you seem to be placing all of your faith in them."

"And I am counting on you as well, my friend. Look, times are tough, and we have to get everybody moving again. Let's start with you. Are you an executive or businessman of some kind?"

"No, I'm a statistician."

"Well, then, you are nonetheless vital to our economic recovery. Please move to the end of the line, and you will receive your share of the money in due course."

"Share of the money? I'm not asking for a handout or anything. I just want to see what's going on here."

"Well, business owners and investors who have taken risks, like the ones bowing in front of us, have lost a lot of money. So, they are in line to collect some money from me so they can get back to work. If you want some, I have to ask you to move to the back of the line just like the other normal folks. I'm sorry, but all non-executives will need to wait their turn. And no, as you approach these steps, I will not require you to bow on the ground. Now, please excuse me, I have a lot of money to give away."

"Okay. I guess I don't really understand, but thanks for your time."

I turned and walked down the stairs. Indeed, I was no one deserving of special privileges or anything...just a guy who crunches numbers. I started strolling to the back of the line. I could see that it stretched far off into the distance.

By now the sunrise was gorgeous, and I couldn't help but smile as I walked along side the thousands of rows of backs and arms. As I continued, the individuals in line seemed less serious. About a half-mile back most people were just sitting rather than bowing on the ground. At the very back no one was on the ground at all. Most of them were just standing and complaining. Some were even holding signs and protesting. They just seemed to be disappointed to be at the back of the line.

I asked a guy..."What are you guys waiting for?"

"Money, man. He's got it all up there at the front, and he's giving it away."

"Where did he get all the money?"

"Everyone back here says he got it from us."

"Why did you guys give it to him just to wait here to get it back?"

"I don't know. I just did what I was told, and now he's the one who's got it all somehow. Can't get it anywhere else these days, so here I am, at the back of the line. I don't know what else to do."

I nodded and started to walk off and he yelled...

"Well, don't get out of line now, it will be twice as long by the time you get back."

"No, I can't today. I'm already late for work."

Astonished with the morning's events, I hastily finished my run and walked upstairs to my apartment. All of this was so shocking and unexpected that I didn't know what to think. But, there would be time for contemplation later. I had a very busy day in front of me, and I needed to get to the office.

I got in my car and began my commute. I was surprised to find that my radio was broken. All I got was static. Also, the roads were empty. There was no traffic. A strange silence seemed to pervade everything around me.

I pulled into my building, and the parking lot was empty. No one was there. I walked into the office to startling silence. Not a phone was ringing.

I looked out of my office window, which was also high above the street. To my amazement, the line had now stretched miles into the suburbs!

Had I missed the memo? For a moment I regretted not stepping in line earlier. I didn't know whether I should run as quickly as possible to the end of the line or let it continue for another ten miles. It was growing very quickly now.

I looked at my desk.

The work was urgent, but I was completely distracted by the terrifying circumstances. I realized my phone was out of batteries and plugged it into the charger.

21 voice mails...46 text messages...

(cont...)

The Law

Some rules can be bent, others can be broken.

Didn't Lawrence Fishbourne say that in some movie?

Morpheus, in The Matrix.

That's right, The Matrix. So, which ones can be bent?

I think the key word is rules. If you follow all the rules blindly all the time, you'll be miserable. It's unsustainable. To live well and benefit from these so called "rules," you must know their reason and purpose. By following your heart, understanding the reasoning, and living your life accordingly, they sometimes bend. You will hardly even notice.

Alright. My heart tells me I want to be President of the United States. That's a worthy purpose. Which rules can I bend to get there?

None. I told you. You can't force the rules to bend, it will just happen...a side-effect. Also, they bend according to others, but never from your own perspective.

How is that useful to me?

It isn't, really. It's just an observation.

Then why are you telling me?

Because I noticed the rules bending around me, that's all.

Why do I care?

Well, because my actions may seem confusing to you, that's why. I just want you to know I'm not psycho.

No guarantees, man. I already think that. But, tell me, how can rules seemingly bend for some and not others?

It's like physics. You know anything about physics?

Sort of.

Well, look at nature. You throw a ball up and it always comes down, right? It's the law of gravity. Well, you can put the ball in a cylinder with wings on both sides welded to a jet engine and keep it in the air for a very long time. But, it will eventually come down, right?

I suppose, but what if you launch it into space?

Then it may never come down. You see, you can never escape the law of gravity, but if you understand it, you can do things that seem to break the law that really don't.

So, it's all relative?

Never in fact, only in perception. Everyone must follow the law of gravity, but by accepting it, and working with it, you can do things that, to others, seem to break the law.

Sounds like a different frame of reference...that the law applies to some differently than others. I think you are talking about moral relativism. I don't agree with that. My pastor says moral relativists go to hell.

The laws of nature apply to everyone equally. Some are exposed to those laws differently than others. Let's look at Einstein's theory of special relativity. A person moving really fast, like, nearing the speed of light, will age slowly. A day to them may seem like a week to someone hanging out on earth. Neither person notices the difference as it is happening, but when the traveler returns to earth, his or her watch will have lost time. This even happens to astronauts orbiting earth. They lose a few seconds as they're zipping around the planet. It's called time dilation. They used this mechanism to explain how they got into the future in Planet of the Apes.

So, basically, you are saying that time travel is a scientific fact?

Yes, theoretically, a person can travel into the future. If you've been on a plane you already have, but only a few microseconds. See, you've already broken the 'law' and you didn't even know it.

Is there a way to go back in time? I want that time back.

No. Sorry. That is against the law.

But, a few microseconds is completely useless. There is no way to get close to the speed of light with our technology. Why even discuss the law of gravity in the first place?

Just to demonstrate that physical laws can seem inconsistent when they really aren't. Laws of ethics and morality have exotic properties too, especially in extreme cases. Sometimes, what seems like the bending of rules is simply the natural universe doing its unpreventable thing. I'm just pointing out the similarities.

Sounds to me like you are trying to rationalize behavior you know is wrong...against the law.

Maybe I am. Maybe not. Depends which set of laws you are thinking of. Sometimes the laws of man violate the laws of nature. Some folks convince themselves that they are above any law for reasons inconsistent with the law itself; killing for peace, stealing for one's own good, etc. Some folks trust themselves a lot, and can overlook the contradictions, rationalize. I never could do that. What little I know keeps me pretty humble.

So, which rules have you bent?

None, according to me anyway. My rules don't bend, as much as others' think they do. Yesterday someone called me a psychopath. I wasn't hurt. I don't take it personally anymore. I never could bear to break or even bend the real rules...not one bit, once I understood them. Doing so never made any sense to me...

Is that why they put you in here?

Guess so...

Well, looks like my time is up. They sure don't allow much visitation, do they?

Nope, not in maximum security.

Alright. See you next month, man. You may be bat-crazy psycho, but I don't blame you for following your heart.

Ha, didn't know I had a choice. Well, see you then, man.

Under Underwater World

The cavern air became warm, then balmy as we descended. I watched the man in front of me unbutton his shirt and wipe his forehead. The line seemed to stretch for infinity in both directions. Perched on my father's shoulder, I turned around and watched the long row of men, women, and children fade into the darkness behind me. Ahead I could detect a warm red glow illuminating the heads of the tallest men. I was starting to get hungry, and looked at my watch. It was well after noon, and our tour was advertised to include a light lunch.

My mother and sisters stood silent. Over the first hour the promise of sharks and eels had grown from giddy anticipation, to frustration, to subdued outrage. I wasn't bothered much...too curious. There was a dampness shimmering on both sides, and drops flashed tiny specks of light among the bleak darkness. Several landed on my head. We seemed to have walked for miles into the earth. The cavern had grown narrow and the adults stood single file. There could be movement in one direction only...down. The very fat man behind us left no doubt of that.

We shuffled toward the exhibit and wondered what emergency had possibly trapped us. I imagined an asteroid or other cataclysm had annihilated the earth far above and we were miraculously spared because we happened to be in line for Underwater World. I knew the reality was likely mundane...a cracked aquarium or something that required a detour. The exhibit exit was far off on the other side of the mall.

I felt sorry for my sister Jane. It was her birthday, and she began to cry as mother held her against her shoulder, stroking her hair. She always loved watching fish swim among the reefs on the Discovery Channel, and dad had teased her all week about our upcoming trip to this place. "Fish day is coming! WEEE!," as he spun her around, "it will be the fishiest day all month!"

I was less enthusiastic about sea life, and found the alternative scenario much more mysterious and interesting. We had no contact with anyone. Our cell phones had no signal, and we had received no announcements or word from folks in front of us or behind us. There was a circular chatter: "Do you know what's going on?" "Nope, you?" "Not at all." The man in front of us tried to push his way back toward the entrance, but could not fit around the man behind us. Things got a bit unsettling as he started to freak out...claustrophobic I guess. Dad shut him up with a few calm words. I didn't hear what they were, but they worked.

Over the next hour the glow became more intense, the heat, beastly. Removed from my throne atop dad, I could see nothing but legs and arms through the red. I remember thinking the emergency lighting was poor, leaving our feet to stumble on the shallow steps. The cavern grew silent and eerie, and I wanted desperately to know what lay ahead. It was probably in the third hour that the line stopped moving entirely. As much as I resisted, fear started to overcome the boredom.

Finally, the stillness jumped as a thunderous bang echoed through the hallway. To our great relief, within minutes the line began to move slowly forward. Jane was no longer interested in seeing a live Ahi Tuna, she just wanted to get out of there and back up to the mall. We couldn't agree more.

A dry heat began to blast as we moved forward. There were red lights on the wall and the hallway widened. We walked around a corner and were delighted to see an open passage into a larger space. Jane might see her Ahi after all, I thought. Before I had even entered I saw little chance for Ahi, or even an aquarium, but something nonetheless incredible...

Orange and red light danced among the clean stone walls on all sides, lit by burning braziers. The ceiling was high and rocky with stalactites hanging freely among the towering pillars. It was expansive, with a sleek marble staircase up the middle and then leading in both directions to a balcony on both sides. The railings were masonry and featured gargoyles on the ends. Men in dark robes with hoods loomed above on all sides with arms folded into their large, hanging sleeves. There was not an eel or even a catfish to be seen.

We entered and found a vacant slab of polished floor to stand on. Jane was smiling. Mom held her hand. The room became gradually littered with colorful shirts. Roving bipeds of all shapes and sizes ambled about aimlessly, cameras around their necks. I saw the large man who had been waiting behind us draw his head back to admire the balcony, exposing his hairy gut.

"Must be the lobby," a young man reported. Most people were casually meandering about as if they were in a gift shop or museum. They took pictures of each other against the murals painted on one of the walls.

More folks hobbled in behind us, many gracing the area with an opinion: "I will be getting a refund." "A Refund? This is kidnapping! I'll be seeing the owner in court." Mom and dad stood still among us kids, looking around. Dad seemed more quiet than usual, I think he may have been concerned.

A man walked up a couple steps and yelled up at one of the stoic gentlemen "hey, Zoolander, what's the best way out of here?" He remained still and silent, face barely noticeable within the shade of his large hood. "Hey, I'm talking to you, peaches."

Suddenly, a steel slab crashed down over the passage we had just walked through. It's concussion shook the stone floor and was followed by a chorus of screams. A voice penetrated the area:

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Under Underwater World. I am your guide, Mel, and I'm so glad you took time out of your busy schedules to join us today. Please place both feet along the black circle on the floor."

A man responded immediately. "Uh, we're her for the marine life, man. But, we've been trapped in a cave for four hours. We are ready to go home now."

Another chimed in. "Oh, and you validate parking, right? I mean, it's been all afternoon."

The voice roared: "Stand on the black circle!"

There was a dark marble strip that formed a large circle. It occupied the area between the entrance and the bottom of the stairs. The several dozen of us grumbled as we did what we were told. Soon everyone was positioned in a circle, most facing inward. Mom and dad stood on either side of us kids.

The creepy druid-like characters turned and walked around the balcony and down the stairs. There were four of them, and two walked within the circle and began distributing what looked like small, white tokens. They gave one to each individual. I took mine and began to play with it, flipping it into the air and catching it, as if playing heads and tails. It wasn't very fun...both sides were plain.

"Congratulations, brothers and sisters, each of you has been given one token. In this place you will find no mercy for any soul lacking a token. As such, each of you has actually been given precisely one life. You have complete equality. I suggest you care for your token accordingly."

Mom placed her hand on my shoulder. I still didn't know if this was a game or what. Dad just stood there, looking around anxiously.

A man on the other side of the circle raised his hand, then began speaking...

"Um, sir, my name is Harmon, and I'm afraid this is a big mistake. We all came for Underwater World, not Under Underwater World, and must have taken the wrong tunnel. Can you let us out of here, please so we can all just go home? I have a very important engagement to attend this evening."

"Oh, absolutely, Harmon. Anyone may leave at any time, of course. I only ask that you to return your token."

A druid stood in the middle of the circle with his hand out, ready to accept the token. Harmon slowly walked toward the center of the circle. He held the token over the druid's hand. He thought about the words spoken earlier, and wondered what was meant by "mercy."

Suddenly, the druid snatched the token from Harmon's hand and instantly impaled him through the chest with his staff. Harmon uttered a terrifying screech and fell to the ground dead.

Everyone in the circle began to panic, screaming and crying. I couldn't see a thing after that. Dad covered my eyes. But, after the ruckus settled down a bit, I could see the trail of blood. Apparently someone dragged him off somewhere. The voice rumbled back to life...

"Now, we have one extra token. Who wants it? Remember, one token gets you out of this place. But, now you know what happens without one."

The druid tossed the extra token into the middle of the circle.

Almost without hesitation, two young men dashed from either side and dove to retrieve the token. One man touched it first, but fumbled it, and the other grabbed it and held it tightly against his chest, curling into a ball. The man who fumbled the token walked back to his place in the circle. He pulled his own token out of his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers.

"Congratulations, sir, what is your name?"

He held a token in each hand. "I'm Andrew."

"Well, Andrew, you have an extra token. You may exchange it for passage out of here and back to the mall above. Once you exchange your extra token, it will be destroyed."

A woman spoke up from across the circle. "Wait, this isn't equality! Andrew has two tokens. Didn't you promise us equality?"

"You all still have your original token. I am sad about the misfortune of our fallen friend, but safe passage from this place costs exactly one token."

"But this isn't fair," an older gentleman bellowed. "Some of us never had a chance to acquire that extra token in the first place!"

"Who said it was fair. I only promised equality..."

"But all of us should have an equal opportunity to acquire the token. That is equality..."

"The token was dropped directly in the center of the circle. Do you believe you deserve Andrew's token?"

"Maybe I do."

"Well then, I think we can all agree that you deserve the token and Andrew does not. However, giving you the token instead does not make our situation any more equal, does it? Besides, if you have the right to take one token from Andrew, what stops others from claiming the right to take one token from you?"

"Well, it's my only one. I have none to spare."

"Neither does he, mate."

The man scoffed and threw his hands up in the air. The voice grew stronger...

"Andrew, look around you," the voice rumbled. "In order to leave, you need to hand one token to the druid, and then exit the circle. One of these people must let you through, despite the fact that they cannot join you. Once one of them does, you are free to go. If no one volunteers to allow you passage, you will rejoin the circle, retaining both tokens."

Andrew looked around at the grim faces around him. They were horrified with what they had seen. He wanted to bring them all with, especially the children. Then he thought about his own children. He decided he had no choice but to proceed. He handed the druid his extra token and walked to the edge of the circle. In front of him stood a large man with arms crossed, a fortress. He moved to the side and found a woman with an equally stern disposition. The older gentleman also stood his ground. They would simply not let Andrew pass.

I watched as he slowly came my direction. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. One after another, each person blocked him from leaving. How could it be? I wondered how folks could be so stubborn. I started to tremble, hoping he didn't make it all the way to me. How could I bear to keep him trapped? Such a thing was unthinkable.

Finally, he was standing in front of dad. I looked around and saw the menacing faces fixated on my father. I knew dad would let him pass. Dad was a good man, probably the best man ever. He looked at mom and then me. I looked at him calmly...I knew he would do the right thing. He smiled at me.

Then he did something I'll never forget. He did not budge, crossing his arms.

Before I knew it Andrew was standing in front of me. I was shaking. I looked at dad, then mom. I knew what was right. I knew it. Dad must be testing me. "Not one bit of harm could possibly come of anyone here by simply letting Andrew pass," I thought. "He had everything to gain and we had nothing to lose...after all, everyone still had their token." I stood back and let Andrew pass to the outside as gasps echoed around the circle. (I'm still sorta confused about that.)

The voice erupted. "Thank you, young man. Alright, you are all free to go now. Hermon, you cleaned up yet? Show these folks out of here so they can see some fish. Oh, and someone fix that heater. It feels like a furnace in here."

Alternative ending 1:
Before I knew it Andrew was standing in front of me. I was shaking. I looked at dad, then mom. I knew what was right. "Not one bit of harm could possibly come of anyone here by simply letting Andrew pass," I thought. "He had everything to gain and we had nothing to lose...after all, everyone still had their token." Still, I had to stand my ground. I decided to follow dad's lead. After all, what did I know about right and wrong compared to him?

He approached the last man in the circle. His eyes were closed. He was deep in thought.

"Yes, Andrew, I will let you pass. But, you owe me $10 if I ever get out of this."

They shook hands.

The voice erupted. "Thank you, gentlemen. Alright, you are all free to go now. Hermon, you cleaned up yet? Show these folks out of here so they can see some fish. Oh, and someone fix that heater. It feels like a furnace in here."

Andrew handed the man $10. "Should have asked for more..."

The man shrugged. "Well, could have done worse, I guess."

Alternative ending 2:
Before I knew it Andrew was standing in front of me. I was shaking. I looked at dad, then mom. I knew what was right. "Not one bit of harm could possibly come of anyone here by simply letting Andrew pass," I thought. "He had everything to gain and we had nothing to lose...after all, everyone still had their token." Still, I had to stand my ground. I decided to follow dad's lead. After all, what did I know about right and wrong compared to him?

The man continued around the circle. Not one person let him through. He returned to his place along the circumference. He had two tokens, but one was entirely useless. He tossed it into the middle of the circle and all immediately jumped to grab it. The man who had fumbled it earlier managed to pull it out of the hand of another.

All returned to the edge as this man stood for a while in the center. He walked up to the man who had been denied exit...

"Sir, I ask you if you will graciously allow my passage."

"Why should I let you through? You refused me."

It was no use. He held the tokens in his hand. He recognized the complete hopelessness of the situation. They all did.

And therefore, they remained in their circle until all but one died of heat exhaustion and/or dehydration. Mom lived, and got to see Underwater world on her way out. She held Jane's emaciated corpse as she walked feebly through the exhibit.

Active Activism

Knock Knock
Who's there?
The Earth Savers.
Why are you here?
Because we want you to help us.
Do what?
Save the Earth.
Oh, thank you for doing this, where do I sign?
Right here.
Right where?
Where I am pointing.
You turned off the porch light. I can't see anything.
Oh, sorry. Forgot you haven't signed yet [flip].
Oh, there it is. [sign]
[flip]
What are you doing?
Saving the Earth.
Yes, well, I've signed. On to your next earth-friendly residence now. Keep up the good work. [flip]
I'm afraid not. [flip]
Alright, that's getting annoying. Hands off the light switch.
[flip]
Rrrr. HANDS OFF! What's that sound?
Those are bulldozers.
What are they doing here?
Saving the Earth. Don't worry, they run on biodiesel.
No, I mean, well, how are they saving the Earth?
Well, you just graciously agreed to let us bulldoze your house and plant a zen garden here.
I did no such thing, please leave.
We can't.
Why not?
Because we have pledged to save the Earth, and so have you. We have an obligation.
But this is my home. You are trespassing.
I'm sorry, you just signed your house over to the state. I'm afraid you are trespassing.
Excuse me?
You just deeded to your house to the Department of the Interior. We don't need any keys or anything.
[rumble rumble]
Please step aside.
[crash crash]
[tear tear]
We hope you'll come back to enjoy the peaceful, environmentally friendly public zen garden in the near future. Thank you for your cooperation.

Triangle Republic

It was called the Triangle Republic because it sat atop an enormous triangular plateau with steep cliffs on all sides. Although the nation claimed the entire plateau, it was actually a mobile one, traveling in one giant herd from one side to the next.

At the midpoint of each of the three natural borders grew a large grove of Yang trees bearing delicious Yangs. Being their favorite food, the Trianglicans were always on a caravan towards one of these three groves. When all of the Yangs were consumed they would turn to begin their long voyage to the next side, where another Yang grove was waiting for them.

There were four types of Trianglicans

• The Mutes looked like big walking eyes. They could not hear or speak, but could see really well.
  
• The Screamers were like big walking mouths. They could not hear or see, but could scream, especially when hungry for Yangs.
• The Pushers were like big walking ears with arms. They could not see or scream, but could hear and push.
  
• The Giants were like huge, well, giants. They could not hear, see, or scream, but were tall enough to reach fruit on even the highest branches of the Yang tree.
  

The herd of Trianglicans always traveled in a straight path towards the cliff's edge. All along their arduous journey to the next edge they would survive on Yang trees they found along the way. To acquire the Yangs, individuals in the herd worked together...

The Mutes, being the only ones who could see the valuable trees, would find a Screamer and tie him to a Yang tree. Before long, the Screamer would begin screaming. Hearing this, the Pushers would push a Giant towards the tree. The Giant, upon bumping up against the trunk, would instinctively reach up and pick the Yangs to eat. While the Giant did this, some Yangs would always drop for the Mutes and Pushers to salvage. When all the ripe Yangs had been picked, the Mutes would untie the screamers, and feed them bits of Yang along the way to keep them from screaming. When the Giant was full, he resumed his walk in the same direction as the rest of the herd.

The only trait shared by all in the herd was the ability to travel in exactly the same direction.

The problems always began as the herd approached a cliff. You see, there wasn't actually a grove of Yangs there, only a sheer drop-off of several thousand feet. The Mutes, who usually traveled up front, would see the impending doom. They would look back and wonder how to change the direction of the herd. After all, the only productive Yang trees required a 300 degree left turn!

This was an unfamiliar dilemma for the Mutes. A cliff was scarcely encountered, perhaps only once every few generations.

On this particular occasion, the Mutes tried everything they could to warn the herd. They tried screaming, which resulted in a pathetic "mrrr" from their clenched eyelid. Then they tried pushing. No use. They were tiny compared to the Pushers, not to mention the Giants who got dangerously close to stepping on them. Some Mutes even decided to run around like lunatics flailing their little arms, which was least effective of all.

As the herd plodded forward the Mutes became increasingly terrified. These poor souls could not scream, push, or pick. They feared they could do nothing but watch the others drop helplessly over the side! They needed to somehow rescue their friends in the herd...and not just for their own good. The Mute's knew they would starve without them.

There was only one tiny shred of hope. They all knew that this predicament must have happened before, and the Mutes had definitely found some way out of it. They wouldn't be alive if they hadn't. But how had their predecessors done it?

Perilously close the the cliff, the Mutes decided to try something completely unheard of and very risky. They tied a Screamer to a Giant and then they tied several more to the same Giant. Then, deprived of Yang pieces, the Screamers began screaming and the Pushers began pushing the Giants toward one another. Once the Giants met, each would grasp wildly into the air. Not finding Yangs, they became angry, even furious, and became ensnared in their own limbs. Soon, over half of the Screamers, Pushers, and Giants were bound in a collective entanglement of legs, arms, mouths, and ears. Some Screamers and Pushers were crushed. But, the tangled mess effectively hindered their progress towards the cliff...if only for a while.

By this point the ominous sound of screaming could be heard off in the distance as the Screamers not tied to Giants began falling over the side. The dreadful sound was followed by a thud as the Pushers instinctively shoved the untangled Giants toward the screaming and thus over the cliff. Each Pusher would be left teetering on the edge of the cliff, then turn to find another Giant to push. Pushers had very short memories, especially with all the screaming, which had become a distracting temptation for all Pushers.

There was no warning at all for these poor Giants and the Mutes were horrified to watch. They only knew the entanglement was doing some good, and considered it their only hope while they pondered possible solutions. Time was short. They knew that soon thousands of Screamers would fall over the side greatly tempting the Pushers to shove all the Giants to their death. Disaster was imminent.

Then one Mute had an idea. Way off in the distance opposite the cliff sat a lone Yang tree that would point the herd directly toward the opposite cliff and towards decades of safety. It was so far away that most other Mutes had dismissed it. Determined, this Mute dragged as many Screamers as possible to the Yang. He tied them up, deprived them of Yang, and the screaming began. But, as the other Mutes had predicted, it was simply too far away. The Pushers with even the biggest ears couldn't hear them. Seeing this, the Mutes grew restless and jumped up and down. There was much blinking.

But this particular Mute had no time to lose. While the others jumped and blinked, he returned to the cliff's edge and diverted more doomed Screamers to the distant Yang tree. In an unheard of fashion he tied the Screamers to one another forming a long chain. Once tied, they instinctively walked toward the cliff. In this way the row stretched out a long distance toward the entanglement.

The Mutes saw this and some were encouraged. A few began to help tie the Screamers to the end of the chain. But not all were so optimistic. In fact, most of the Mutes sat and drooped their eyelids in despair. Even with the long chain, they knew the plan would fail. The entanglement was moving too fast and they knew the Pushers couldn't really hear all that well, much less identify which screamers would lead them to safety and which ones to death. They began to despair.

"Oh, how hopeless is a Mute's life." they thought. "If only we had mouths to scream or arms to push. If only we were big and strong like the Giants. If only we had one of these things, we could save all of our fellow Trianglicans. But, alas, we are all doomed to watch as they careen over the side. Oh, the horror."

Conditions deteriorated. With all the screaming, falling, crushing, and flailing going on, the Mutes felt dejected. The chain grew very close, but its screamers were drowned out by those falling off the side.

You would think that the massive amount of screaming would be a warning to the Pushers and Giants, but no. They could only think about acquiring those delicious Yangs. This shocked the Mutes who were now frantically dragging Screamers from the edge.

These conditions continued to make the Mutes very sad. So sad, in fact, that they began crying. As they dragged their Screamers to the chain, tears welled in their large eyes and fell onto the ground. At first this had a beneficial effect, moistening the dusty path. The dirty air became clean, and they were no longer required to squint as they dragged the sometimes uncooperative Screamers. But, as the dust cleared from the air the increased visibility also allowed them to easily observe the awful sight at the cliff's edge. More tears befell the path and before long the Mutes found themselves trudging through thick, slippery muck.

Navigating the terrain became a challenge. The Mutes, already top-heavy with their tiny legs, began slipping and falling all along the muddy path. One Mute would try to help another and both would topple, each losing his Screamer. Many rolled back and forth, but could not get back on their feet. So sad was this that the stream of tears became a torrent. Before long the whole area was a vast swamp with half-sunken Mutes scattered about. Those who were stuck were helpless, waving their tiny arms in the air for help. Those who watched from dry ground did not dare enter the swamp. All seemed lost.

Then, to the disbelief of all the Mutes, the head of one particularly tall Giant was spotted moving away from the cliff, in the opposite direction of all the others. All the Mutes scurried to the highest ground that they could find. Sure enough, a lone Pusher anguished beneath, straining to push this whole Giant all by himself. Squinting eyes caked in mud became wide with astonishment. Everyone knew this was impossible. Such a thing had never been done. Everyone knew it took three Pushers to even nudge a Giant. But somehow this Pusher was doing it, right in front of the Mutes' weary eyes. He seemed to be the only Pusher who could hear the distant chain of Screamers.

Seeing this the Mutes' eyes were instantly dried. They looked at each other and suddenly realized there was still hope, and serious, unpleasant work to be done. They knew they had to innovate. They frantically increased the chain of Screamers until they dangled all the way off the edge of the cliff. One after another, as expected, the Pushers pushed Giants over this one point, creating a deep rut in the earth. The rut over the edge of the cliff became a waterfall, draining the lake of tears that had accumulated. Then, the Mutes who had almost drowned stood up and joined the others. They helped pull the dangling screamers back to safety. Not one more Giant than necessary would be pushed off the side. The end of the chain was brought back and tied to a spot mid-way between the Yang and the cliff. Soon they saw two Pushers pushing another Giant away from the cliff and toward the end of the chain. It was working!

But, the remainder of the herd was nearing the cliff faster than ever. Hundreds of Screamers were plummeting over the edge. Hundreds of Giants followed shortly thereafter. Worse, the inclination to move in the same direction was so fierce that even the tangled Giants continued to amble toward the cliff, even the ones almost completely restrained among one another. The whole entanglement itself began slipping over the edge!

All the Mutes watched in horror as the enormous conglomeration began to fall over the side! The Screamers were so hungry and just couldn't help but scream. The Pushers simply couldn't resist the Screaming and pushed with all their might. The Giants were now completely helpless. It slid slowly, folding off the edge like a pancake. Giants, Screamers, and Pushers all held tightly to one another for dear life. There, hanging in mid air, they now discovered, without a doubt, that something was terribly wrong.

Having assembled and chained the last of the available Screamers, the Mutes could only watch as the bulk of their beloved herd began escaping into oblivion. There was nothing more they could do but continue starving the chain of Screamers who were now bellowing ferociously. The sight was unbearable.

Then, miraculously, the sliding began to slow down. Something stalled the momentum and now about half of the entanglement hung over the side propped by the other half. The Mutes approached to assess the situation. To their amazement, they discovered something else they had never seen before. The pushers on the ground were pushing away from the cliff! They were Pulling!

Through great effort, all of the Pushers pulled together and began lifting the entire entanglement. Slowly but surely the entirety of the weight was being pulled, lifted from the great abyss.

But, by now the Giants already hanging off the side were so frustrated that their arms flailed in a desperate panic, which began breaking apart the entanglement. Seeing this the Mutes jumped and blinked and mrrred with indignation. If only they would just be still and allow the pulling Pushers to save them. But, this was not to be. Suddenly, the half already over the edge could be pulled no further. The bond broke at the cliff's edge and the doomed Screamers screamed in unison as they plummeted into free fall. Looking over the edge, the Mutes watched the Giants' wild arms flutter in a frenzy until each met their doom against the rocks below, joined by the poor Screamers and Pushers who had been at the front half of the entanglement.

The Pushers atop the cliff could now hear the chain of Screamers loud and clear. As such, they pulled the entanglement toward the lone Yang in the distance. Once there the Mutes carefully untied the Screamers and to the surprise of all, the Giants began walking slowly in the direction opposite the cliff! Seeing this the Mutes hopped up and down, blinked happily, and celebrated with a gleeful chorus of mrrr.

Then a period of mourning followed as the herd slowly moved away from the cliff. It was a tragedy of historical proportions. As far as a warning to pass into the future, the Mutes had some paper and pencils, but none knew how to write. And, passing the story down by word of mouth was also prohibitive for obvious reasons. But, to the relief of them all, the next cliff was generations away. For now, they could resume the roles they had grown to know and love. All citizens of the Triangle Republic who survived this great tragedy lived in peaceful harmony for the rest of their lives.