Open Door Policy

31 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, Veritas

Tags

adventure, fiction, innovation, legend, myth, story, tales, truth, Veritas

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At the grinding growling noise, the entire group jumped back from the door. Jaccim flinched — not at the slow movement of the door, but at the reaction of everyone else. He then reminded himself that they had never seen such a tunnel before.

He stepped in front of Cat Eyes and said earnestly, “Such noise is normal. Louder than I remember but all right.”

Cat Eyes nodded and translated the reassurance.

The group squinted as the shaft of yellow sunlight began to trace across their faces.

Cat Eyes turned back to Jaccim with a frown and a flash of anger in her eyes, “How did you open it though? How?!”

Jaccim tilted his head and looked at her puzzled. “It — I just asked it to be opened. Surely, this magic is not new to you. Didn’t you see such things in the Z-Lotz village?”

Trunk of Tree was jumping up and down and waving his hands. “What is he saying?! It could be a trap! I did it! I opened it!”

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Cat Eyes glanced over at Salah Hudah and caught her eye. They smiled knowingly at each other while they shook their heads about Trunk of Tree. But to his credit, he was peering around the corner of the ever-widening entryway, looking for the trap that didn’t come. Once his eyes had adjusted a bit to the sunlight he scanned the nearby surroundings. As he did so, he looked up to orient to the twin peaks, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“All clear!” he shouted back at the cave door. Soon, they were all outside. Trunk of Tree looked at Jaccim. “How did you open that?!”

Jaccim looked at Cat Eyes and awaited her translation for a moment and then realized, he understood what Trunk of Tree must have said so answered her again in ROI. “I just asked it to open. It’s always worked that way.”

Cat Eyes sighed. She realized that no-one in the group would accept her translation, but she went ahead anyway, “He says that he just asked it to open — in ROI — and it did. That it always works like that.”

Salah Hudah frowned and said, “Why did we work so hard to open the first door then?”

Cat Eyes nodded and replied, “Good question.” She translated for Jaccim, who shrugged “I don’t know why they make it such. Buttons to go in. Commands to leave. Wasn’t it this way among the Z-Lotz, Cat Eyes?”

Cat Eyes reacted to him first with a simple “NO!” and then translated his answer to the group. Jaccim could see that his answer just caused more confusion. Cat Eyes began to suspect that maybe this was a trap after all. Jaccim’s face seemed stoical but honest. Still…

Trunk of Tree looked around. “All right. Well, I got us out. That’s the main thing, but where are the twin peaks?”

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Fleet of foot had walked back some ways from the entrance. He pointed up behind them. “Come over here. The peaks are back that way.” Lion Slayer went to join him and soon saw what appeared to be the twin peaks just visible over the edge of the cliff behind them. “There they are.”

Cat Eyes walked over as well and soon everyone was pointing to them. Trunk of Tree was the last to join the group. He nodded. “Now,” he began, “we need to determine which way to go next.” The voice of Trunk of Tree was strong and echoed off the cliff. Halfway through his pronouncement, however, Jaccim began speaking in broken Veritas. “Close Door one first. Second two, visit Veritas. Three third, this way,” and he gestured toward a broad path that led up a steep, but walkable grade to the right. Then, he himself walked a bit off to the left, following a much more overgrown path.

“Wait!” yelled Trunk of Tree. “Where are you going?!”

Cat Eyes began, “He asks —- “

Jaccim, put up a hand, “Yes. I know. To close first one door one. To walk path second two To find Veritas third three.”

Cat Eyes watched Jaccim as he walked over to a rock wall, and jab his hand downward several times. Then, the door began to close.

“Wait! What are you doing! Keep it open! We want to come back this way.”

Cat Eyes saw Jaccim shrug and quickly translated.

Jaccim tilted his head at Trunk of Tree, looking at him with curiosity. “Do you always leave the door to your house open to the rats?” he queried in ROI for Cat Eyes to translate.

Cat Eyes decided to add a bit on her own: “Besides, since you are always concerned with traps, do you see how each it would be to have a large force inside ready to pounce on a small party?”

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As she guessed, that seemed to hit home and Trunk of Tree grunted his assent. “Come on!” he said and began to stride up the hill.

Fleet of Foot put out a hand as Trunk of Tree strode past, “Trunk! Hey! Do you know where you’re going?”

Trunk of Tree stopped and turned. “There’s only one path. This is the one to take.”

Fleet of Foot smiled, “True enough. But there may be choice points ahead, or hidden dangers that Jaccim knows about because he’s been here before. And, if we are really getting close, Cat Eyes may begin to recognize something as well. Besides, it’s easier if they’re together in case she needs to translate.

Trunk of Tree added, “All right. I still don’t see why he doesn’t learn Veritas though. ‘To find Veritas third three.’ What is that? Gibberish! And I don’t like to be behind the horses.”

“Nor I,” replied Fleet of Foot. “You and I should lead the animals at the back. That way we can apply the most force where it is needed most in case of battle, rather than being ambushed and rendered useless.”

“What?!” yelled Trunk of Tree, “I hate those things! Those beasts are powerful! Let Jaccim risk his life!”

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Fleet of Foot clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Come on! Dah-Nah isn’t as scared of them as you are. They’re not dangerous if you know what you’re doing. I’ll show you. l would have sooner. I just learned myself though. Here. Let’s go back now.”

Once the order of the group was settled, Cat Eyes began to converse with Jaccim in ROI. “I still do not understand how these doors work.”

“Nor I,” Cat Eyes. “I have no idea really. I was just told exactly what to do.”

They walked on in silence for a time. The anger rose in Cat Eyes, but she breathed steadily and calmed herself.

“You just do what you are told without even understanding it? How can you live like that?”

Jaccim looked at her. “Do you know how your legs work? Or how we see?”

Cat Eyes clicked her tongue. “Of course. I use things all the time because I know how to use them. I don’t know everything about how they work. But if someone says put these ten large rocks in this tiny basket, I wouldn’t just try to do it, because it would ruin the basket and nothing would be accomplished.”

Jaccim nodded. “I am beginning to understand that about the Veritas.” After a pause, he added, “I never thought much about any other tribes, really. Just us and the Z-Lotz. The Z-Lotz are the ones that usually told us what to do. And, we, the ROI; we’re good at finding the clearest shortest path to doing those things.”

Cat Eyes walked on a few more miles. At last she turned her head to Jaccim and said, “I told you I never saw such things but now I am not so sure. When I was very young, I learned how things were. Then, later, when I was a slave to the Z-Lotz, I … I saw things in those terms. But maybe I sometimes assumed that they opened doors the way I had always seen them being opened because….”

Jaccim put up his hand as they came to a fork in the road. He looked up to the right and down to the left and chose the gently descending path.

Cat Eyes rolled her foot on a round stone and nearly lost her footing. Instinctively, Jaccim shot out his hand and she took it. She regained her balance and began speaking again, “Speaking of knowing how to do things, can you please tell me how to open those doors from the inside and the outside.”

“Why? I’ll be there.”

“Jaccim,” began Cat Eyes, “has it never occurred to you that these people might realize from your speech and your manner that you are one of the people who steals children?”

“No, no,” said Jaccim. “I’m Veritas now. I’m not ROI. I am friends with Dah-Nah. I am Veritas.” After a moment, he added, “but I can easily tell you how to make the doors work.”

“What is that smell? I recognize it! Spicebush! Someone is brewing spicebush tea. Just as my mother used to do!”

Jaccim nodded and smiled. “Yes, I smell it too. I was just going to tell you — we are nearly there! Do you recognize …?” His voice trailed off. He could see that Cat Eyes no longer listened. She walked over to what seemed to be a cleft in the rock wall and began to go through. Jaccim said in a loud voice, “She here is! We here is!”

“Wait.” said Fleet of Foot. “What is our strategy here? No-one there knows us and we know no-one there. I thought we agreed to let Cat Eyes in and that I, along with both Trunk of Tree, would accompany her. We will be more likely recognized as Veritas. We will be safer.”

Fleet of Foot didn’t wait for a response. He sprinted up to Cat Eyes, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Wait a moment. Let’s go in together with Trunk of Tree. He’ll catch up in just a moment. Are you feeling all right? Why are you crying?”

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————————————————————

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Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

The Most Serious Work

27 Friday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, creativity, family, poetry, politics, psychology

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

children, creativity, exploration, innovation, invention, kids, play, poem, poetry, work

{This poem from 2005 recounts a happier day — one I hope to live to see played out again}.

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Home from a long and longish day,

I head toward Ketel One; toward sleep.

At long last, a long last turn,

My Saab into my private driveway.

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Four kids, not especially cute,

But acutely aware stand in my space.

Await my decision and stare

With a grin and a grimace and glare.

photo of boy in black and red collared shirt

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I stare at the oldest, the one;

See chagrin and smile, mixed on his face.

His eyes say: “Please, Mister, Please,

Let us keep our kickball game going.”

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I ken this play is more sacred than work.

I ken this work is their sacred play.

And, when all is said and all is done,

It is all more important than my workaday work.

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I smile; reverse; park farther away,

Hoping my earthly work-gotten goods

Will be safe and if not — if morning brings

Missing my bag and golf clubs all gone —

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It is in the end, a small price to pay.

With no play of kids, we all would be:

Huddled in caves to the very last day

Dreamless all of all that might have been.

Do you truly see and truly ken?

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Introduction to a Pattern Language for Teamwork Collaboration

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Last Call!

26 Thursday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, health, politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Boy Scouts, BSA, camping, coronavirus, COVID-19, fiction, fire safety, leadership, pandemic, plauge, story

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Bill, the assistant scoutmaster, opened the flap of his old-fashioned canvas tent and stared out at the five young boys who were toasting marshmallows, talking, and laughing. He sighed. They had to be told what to do even when it was obvious. He shook his head, trying to think back to when he had been in the fifth grade. Had he been this irresponsible — so lacking in common sense? He supposed he had, but it hadn’t seemed that way at the time.

The boys joked among themselves, and that he could relate to. He recalled getting together around dusk each summer evening between fifth and sixth grade and exchanging the most ridiculous “dirty jokes” with a few of the neighbor boys. These boys from his troop told the jokes quietly so that Bill could not overhear. He didn’t really need to hear. He assumed they were the same sort that he had listened to — and told — so long ago.

Bill walked around behind the tent and off into the woods a few yards to take a ‘whiz’. Where had that word come from, he wondered. Once beyond the glow of the firelight, he could see the myriad stars sparkling above. Even though he had planned on going to the big game this weekend, he had volunteered, at Mary’s urging, to fill in when the scoutmaster had fallen ill at the last minute. At least, that’s what the scoutmaster had said. Privately, Bill had his doubts. Maybe the scoutmaster himself had scored tickets to the Ohio State game. The Rose Bowl berth was on the line. Damn. Yet, much as he had been looking forward to the game, being out in the woods was awesome too. It had been so long, he had forgotten how magical it was out here. The smell of pines. The burning wood. The licking flames. The warm summer evening wind.

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He came back around the tent and said aloud, “What the f*** !?”

He generally managed to keep from uttering foul language in front of the boys. When a word did slip out, he apologized under his breath. This time he hadn’t even noticed. The grass near the campfire was burning.

He shouted, “HEY! Can’t you see the grass is burning! You want to start a forest fire?! Put that out! Now!”

The boys fell silent and began to look around. Ron stared at Bill. “Don says it’s no big deal. It’ll burn itself out.”

“What?! What are you talking about? The fire — put it OUT!”

Tate laughed. “What’s the big deal? We’re having fun toasting marshmallows. Don says it’ll burn out.”

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Don himself laughed. “Geez, old man, take it easy. It’s just a campfire.”

Bill shouted, “Get your canteens! Stomp on the flames!”

Ron laughed. “We’re not getting our shoes burned, fool.”

Don said, “Hey, canteens? I’m not thirsty, are you guys?”

Just then, a gust of wind blew the flames in a new direction and all the grass around the tents began to burn. Suddenly, one of the tents caught fire as did a small scrub oak.

Bill glanced around wildly. He realized the fire had already strengthened beyond what the five of them could deal with. He raced back to his tent and found his cell phone. 9-1-1 he punched. Nothing. He fumbled for his glasses and found them in his jacket; pulled them on; glanced down at his phone. No reception.

“Come on, kids. We have to get to the car.”

Tate drawled, “I don’t feel like it.”

Ron nodded vigorously, “No, me either. How about you Don?”

Don laughed. “It’ll burn itself out. Geez. Grown ups are so stupid.”

Bill ground his teeth. He put on his leather jacket for protection and strode over to the campfire which was still burning nicely within the circle of rocks. He grabbed the two boys who had been silent, tightly grabbing onto their upper arm. He hauled them up as one and began dragging them toward the station wagon. He had become so angry and so terrified that he could barely speak coherently. He turned back one more time to the remaining three boys who stared at him defiantly. “GET. IN. THE CAR. NOW!!”

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“You go, old man. Coward. It’s just a few flames,” laughed Don.

He pulled on the door handle. Locked?! WTF did I lock it for, he screamed inside his head. Habit. He fumbled for the keys and clicked the doors open. He practically threw the two small boys into the back seat. “Stay here!”

He strode back to the other three who were now sauntering toward the car, laughing and pointing to the flames. Bill only caught a word here and there:

“Awesome!”

“Dope!”

“Wicked!”

Between gritted teeth he hissed, “GET IN!”

The boys jostled for position, shouting, “Shotgun! Shotgun!”

Bill moved back around to the driver’s side, barely able to control his rage. He took one last look back toward the campfire. He tried to think whether there was anything crucial left in the tent.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t see the tree toppling toward him.

None of the boys had ever actually driven a car. But Don had at least was quite familiar with a golf cart. He slide across into the driver’s seat. As the flames began to engulf the car, he managed to open the door by shoving hard with both legs; hard enough to dislodge the limp scoutmaster. He closed the door again and turned the key. The engine sputtered. It didn’t sound right. He tried again. At last, the engine caught and roared to life. The car lurched backwards and the engine died.

“Did you click the clutch? There must be a button! LOOK!” Ron was becoming panicked.

Tate said, “No, no. It’s a pedal not a button. Push in the clutch pedal.”

The last words were drowned out by the crash of another tree onto the top of the car. The roof partially collapsed onto Don’s skull. It cut him but did not knock him out. He saw a pedal on the floor. It was too much of a reach for him.

As chance would have it, Bill’s cell phone landed smack into the middle of the campfire which still burned amidst the chaos of the forest fire. When the car had exploded, the pieces had flown in every direction…as had the boy parts and the scoutmaster parts.

Somewhere, far overhead, a satellite streaked among the stars. Just as the phone began to melt, Mary’s voice, groggy from her nightcap drawled, “Bill is that you? Hello? Did you butt dial me again? Hello?”

There was no-one left to answer the now melted cell phone.

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Author Page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

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Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Mint Tea & Golden Coins

24 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

envoy, fiction, legend, Many Paths, myth, story, tales, translation, truth, Veritas

selective focus photography of leaves with water due

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In her dream, Many Paths happened upon a patch of spearmint that stretched forever near the bubbling stream. She stooped down and plucked one of the dark green plants. She had always loved the smell of mint. She peered closely at the leaf. Something was wrong. Tiny black snails covered the leaf. Upon closer inspection, she saw them all over the stem as well. This is strange, she thought. Snails don’t eat mint. Nor had she ever seen so many. Were they really snails, she wondered. She turned to pluck another plant but they had grown nearly as tall as she was. Every leaf and stem was covered with tiny black — dots — snails. The snails were turning red in front of her eyes, contrasting wildly with the deep green. This is impossible, she thought. I must be dreaming. The snails don’t like the smell or else they don’t like the feel of these teeny hairs everywhere. They eat almost everything but snails don’t eat mint!

Shadow Walker stroked her silky hair and said, “Thanks for the tip. I’ll be sure not to feed them any. But as for you…I think you were dreaming, love.”

He smiled at Many Paths, brushing her hair as though removing the cobwebs of sleep. He held out a cup of mint tea. It smelled delicious and she could see the wisps of steam dancing in the slants of morning sun. Many Paths returned the smile, brought the cup to her lips and inhaled the refreshing smell. “I take it there were no snails on the leaves?”

Shadow Walker chuckled. “No. But if you fancy some, I’m sure I can find some for you somewhere. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any on mint, come to think of it.”

“Nor I. But in my dream, the mint was covered with them. They were tiny and they turned red. Anyway, look at the steam. What does that tell you?”

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“That — the tea is hot?” The look on her face told him this was not the answer she had been looking for.

“It means, Shadow Walker, that the cabin has holes between the slats. They need to be fixed before winter. Sooner would be better than later because it also helps keep out the biting bugs.”

“Yes. Well, Many, we are soon to meet with our friends to plan….”

“I know. I know. I just…it seems I just got you back. I hate to see you going off to that hateful place again. Especially now that we know about Killing Sticks. If we had them too…”

“Many Paths, if we had Killing Sticks, we might have three more dead among the Veritas right now.”

“Yes. I know. But we are learning. They should only be used in war, not available to settle small quarrels. I wish we could speak more with Cat Eyes about whether she saw them misused in ROI.”

“Misused? If you ask me, they are always misused. What kind of honor accrues from killing an enemy without even touching them? Anyway, I think the people are beginning to realize the dangers. Many spoke at our last council fire about how dangerous real ones would be for those with a quick tongue.” He smiled at her again. “Drink your tea while it’s still hot. I’ve also got….What’s that?”

Shadow Walker stood, turned quickly grabbing his sword and peered out the door. Drums were signaling the arrival of strangers. Could it be that Cat Eyes, Jaccim, and others had already returned with some of the Veritas over the Twin Peaks? No. No. These approaching people were all strangers. They were ROI! Only four of them. On foot? He glanced back at Many Paths who was already dressing.

Many Paths nodded at him. “Let’s prepare to meet these ROI. I guess I don’t need to tell you to be careful. Last time they appeared, they pretended to trade with us and their real goal was to steal children and set our camp on fire! I wish Cat Eyes were here to translate.”

Shadow Walker added, “You prepare. I’ll find Tu-Swift. Your brother is the best substitute we have. He’s been learning as well as he can with the materials we have, the game Cat Eyes got and the marked leaves. And, he spent considerable time talking with Cat Eyes before she left.” He left.

Many Paths watched the leather door flap ripple for a moment before settling still into place. He left, she thought. And soon, too soon, he may be leaving again. She shook her head, took a deep breath, and prepared to meet the strangers.

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By the time the four strangers arrived, nearly the entire village turned out. Sentries were still posted around the outer perimeter in case these four were merely sacrificial distractions from a much larger attack. The four strangers themselves were being carefully guarded. At last, the four came to the place of the council fire. As they slung off their packs, many bows were tightened in case killing sticks or other weapons were hidden within those packs. The leader of the four began to speak and Tu-Swift translated. Although he spoke directly to Many Paths, he spoke loudly enough that all the Veritas within the Center Place could hear his voice.

Many Paths felt pride that her brother’s voice proved loud and steady. His voice rang out clear, without a hint of fear or of hatred.

“Greetings from the Z-Lotz. We bring you gifts. We wish peace between our people. Here we offer you some glass and some steel from the ancient ones.”

Upon a large gray blanket, the leader laid out a variety of shiny objects. As he did so, Many Paths noticed that the hands of the leader seemed misshapen, perhaps from a badly healed war wound. Among the shiny objects lay another set of leaves with marks, such as the one that Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer had brought back from the village of the Z-Lotz.

Many Paths glanced at Tu-Swift and began her answer for him to translate. “Greetings from the Veritas. Thank you for the gifts. We will arrange for gifts in return. We did not know you were coming. But soon we will have gifts. You say you are Z-Lotz but — and, your speech marks you as ROI.”

After the translation, the leader nodded. “Yes. We were born ROI. Our village is no more. We have had a long friendship with the Z-Lotz and now we are all Z-Lotz. The ROI are no more. We all are Z-Lotz. We were sent here by our leader, NUT-PI to form a stronger alliance. With you. Soon. Some day. For now, we only bring gifts. You need not give gifts in return. Perhaps soon, you can come visit NUT-PI and offer gifts. But for now, we simply offer gifts to show we want peace. NUT-PI only wants peace. This is from NUT-PI.”

The leader drew out of an inner pocket a number of shiny gold coins. He tossed them casually on the blanket as well.

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“As you can see, the image of NUT-PI is on each of these coins of gold.”

Tu-Swift shrugged as he tried to translate this last part, saying to Many Paths and the other Veritas, “He refers to these circles as ‘coins’ and that they are made of something called ‘gold’ but I don’t know what these words of ROI mean.”

Many Paths looked at the gifts arrayed before her. There were three kinds of gifts, each quite different, but each one shiny in its own way. She asked Eagle Eyes to fetch a basket of spices.

“Thank you for your generosity. Will you stay with us for a time? At least have a meal here. And we will give you a basket of spices. Perhaps, we will find more suitable gifts later and we may indeed send a delegation to visit with NUT-PI. This will take some time. Meanwhile, you will stay for a time?”

Tu-Swift translated the words of Many Paths and the answer of the leader who said, “We must return at once with news that you also wish to have peace. That you will visit NUT-PI soon. You will discuss our alliance then, but meanwhile, you may enjoy these gifts.”

Eagle Eyes returned with a beautifully made basket filled with aromatic spices. She bowed and laid the basket in front of the leader on the edge of the blanket nearest him. As she stooped down, she picked up one of the gold coins and turned it over. One one side a profile of NUT-PI appeared and on the other side a full faced picture. She looked at the leader and said, “What an interesting and beautiful thing! Does this really look like NUT-PI? Does he always wear such an unusual hat?”

Many Paths wondered at her friend’s question which seemed oddly out of bounds, but then she reminded herself that Eagle Eyes saw things others did not so she nodded almost imperceptibly to Tu-Swift who translated the question.

The leader nodded and spoke, “That looks just like him. That ‘hat’ is made of gold. It is called a ‘crown’ and he wears it all day. Every day. Thank you for your kind offer to stay, but we must go. When do you think you may visit NUT-PI and seal the friendship between the Veritas and the Z-Lotz? Ah, yes. And here, among these gifts, is the most important of all. This book is the book of truth and tells you what to believe to become a true Z-Lotz. Please be sure to believe this before you come. That will make for a much better meeting with NUT-PI. So, when can you come?”

The mind of Many Paths now raced ahead calculating many different answers, none of which were without danger. “Thank you again for your gifts. The weather is good. We could travel soon. But — this thing you call a book — we have no idea what is in that or how to come to believe what is in it or how to know what is in it. How long will that take? How long does it take you to come to believe it?”

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Once this was translated, the leader looked puzzled. He muttered briefly to his companions and then said aloud. “It is best to believe it. Later, you can discover what it says. We have many teachers in our village who could help you. First, believe it because it is the truth. Then after you visit, we will help you learn it.”

“I understand. Thank you for your offer. Please give our regards to NUT-PI and our thanks for his offer of peace. We must hold our own council and determine who among us would be worthy enough to come to visit you — and NUT-PI.”

The leader of the Z-Lotz delegation listened to the translation and immediately began speaking. “I am sorry about — there is no need to choose. It must be you yourself who comes — and alone. Of course, you may have companions up to the gates of their village. Our village. But then, NUT-PI and you must have a private meeting.”

As Many Paths listened to Tu-Swift’s translation, her eyes were suddenly distracted by Shadow Walker whose face showed such hatred and anger that she was momentarily alarmed that he might strangle all the strangers immediately. She looked at him and willed him not to do it.

“That sounds delightful then. We will arrange this as soon as possible. Certainly, peace is in everyone’s interest. And, by the way, please give my regards to your own leader, BRA-BRILL.”

Many Paths and Eagle Eyes both watched the leader intently. Even before the translation, they both noticed a dark blank face become set upon the face of the delegation leader when the name ‘BRA-BRILL’ was spoken aloud. Many Paths glanced at Eagle Eyes and could see that she too could see many calculations going on behind the eyes of the delegation leader. He was trying to decide, it seemed to Many Paths, which lie to tell.

At last, the leader nodded solemnly, and said, “I will give him your regards. Thank you. He too now accepts NUT-PI as the leader of us all.”

“Good. Thank you again for your gifts. I wish you could stay, but I understand you must have other tasks. Our guards will be happy to help you find your way back to the edge of the lands we call home. Safe journey to you all. I hope to see you again sooner even than you imagine possible.”

Many Paths studied all four faces. She hoped Tu-Swift was able to translate this phrase since she had chosen it carefully. She couldn’t be sure, but a flicker of confusion and doubt seemed to flicker on each face at the end of the translation. Seeds of doubt appeared to be sown now. Perhaps conversation among the four of them would help them grow on their journey home.

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As the foursome turned to leave, Many Paths said, “Oh, one more thing. You are famous for riding horses. Why are you not on horses?”

The leader turned back. He listened for Tu-Swift’s translation and said, “We set the horses free. We have no more need of them.”

“Safe journey,” said Many Paths. She stared at the backs of the envoys until they diminished to black dots on the horizon, followed by their escorts. At last, she turned back to her people. Few of them had left for their daily activities. She stared at the gifts. The people awaited her decisions for the gifts. She walked over and picked up the book first. She handed it to Tu-Swift. “See what you can make of this, Tu-Swift.”

She motioned for Stone Chipper to come over and asked him to try to understand what to make of the shiny objects of — what did they call it? Steel?

Next there was the ‘glass’ but she had a bad feeling about this stuff. “Does anyone want some of this “glass”? Several came forward to touch it, and hold it and turn it about. A few seemed particularly intrigued. She nodded as they silently asked her whether they could have some. Gold coins. Each had a picture of NUT-PI. Eagle Eyes held one and studied it closely, turning from one side to the other.

She smiled at Many Paths. “This,” she said, holding up the coin to shine it in the sunlight, “may prove extremely valuable.”

Photo by Immortal shots on Pexels.com

——————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Index for 2019 Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Wristwatch

23 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

celerity, ecology, environment, life, mindfulness, poem, poetry, politics, time, truth, virus

What is this?

A gift.

A wristband watch.

How convenient.

For someone.

For me?

I wonder…

It’s a kind of a band

(A bit like a slave band)

A bit of a rift,

Between me and me

Photo by malcolm garret on Pexels.com

If you see;

Get my drift.

It’s kind of sand

In my shoe

Keeping me from other things

And it rings

In my ear

That a land

Where all that stands

Is the least pernicious example

Is but a silly sweet example

Of things to come.

“Hurry to the hippodrome!

Never mind the cost.”

Never mind what’s lost

Never mind what land

We conquer to expand

The land that … sorry….

Didn’t mean to mention that…

The land of the free…

I hope that is an okay phrase,

An acceptable phrase.

Because the thing that worries me

Is not forty-five per se,

Oh,

No.

I know.

No.

What bothers me is this:

That a part of me says, “hiss”

On cue.

And then I say “Boo!”

And either way,

It’s Putin’s day.

men in black and red cade hats and military uniform

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Oh, yes. We are quite the quintessential conquestadoro.

Les hommes mucho macho

Let’s salsify the nacho

Let’s wolf down some state or other.

Sorry, meant to say steak or other…

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Slyly, slyly, you may perceive

That I,

Much like our current reality,

Make no sense.

Granted,

But I have no pretensions of being

Chiseled into Mount Rushtoomuchmore

Just because I gave away

The U S A

To those who hanker-danker for oil.

“Oil.”

Isn’t that a lovely word?

I like the sound.

Silky, deep, and dark.

gray industrial machine during golden hour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Oil.”

I love the stuff.

Titusville, Pennsylvania as I recall

Was the happening place to be.

Nearly, West Virginia and Ohio

Came to blows over it.

But we got over it.

Clear over the rainbow.

All the way to where the sun don’t shine

To where instead monkeyshines

Rule the day,

And check

And slay.

Say!

My watch alarm now is screaming:

Photo by Jhefferson Santos on Pexels.com

“Way past time to play!

All hands on deck!

You’re making a wreck

Of every day!

Your addictive greed

Grew a wicked weed!

Thoughts flash between sulcus and gyrus

Showing us how to beat the virus,

We must hunker down and work as one

For just this once until it’s done.

Then, we go and green this globe

Let’s use once more that frontal lobe!”

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Light at the End of the Tunnel?

19 Thursday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

failure, Feedback, leadership, legend, myth, politics, story, tale

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Cat Eyes looked back at the entrance in time to see the door close out the last sliver of distant yellow daylight. She turned back toward the group, now bathed in dim silver-blue light. She cautiously approached one of the artificial “moons” (as she thought of them) that continued to light their path. She put her hand up toward the light but felt no heat whatsoever coming from the strange circular disk. She turned back toward the others. As she turned her head, she noticed that the light flickered slightly.

Cat Eyes tried to speak. Only a short deep-throated cry emerged.

Easy Tears asked her, “Are you all right, Cat Eyes?”

Cat Eyes swallowed hard. She took a long slow breath to calm herself and found her voice again. “Yes. It’s nothing. Just — a memory. I’ll put it aside to explore later.” Indeed, she pushed away the memory, the terror she had felt. She had seen these odd lights before and she felt a bruising in her ribs as she had felt so many years ago when she was strapped on the back of a horse and stolen from her family. It took a hard push to submerge her memory, but it worked.

“These lights have no heat. What … have you seen anything like this before?”

Lion Slayer said, “They are like moonlight. Dim light but no heat.”

illustration of moon showing during sunset

Photo by David Besh on Pexels.com

Easy Tears added, “I’ve never seen anything like this entire … thing. It’s much like the tunnels of ants or moles. But I have never seen such a huge tunnel. As though the giant sloths made a tunnel like that of moles. But the lights? How can this be?”

Trunk of Tree spoke. “We must go back at once and try to open the door before it’s too late!”

Cat Eyes shook her head. “I think we should keep going. Jaccim said this tunnel leads to the Veritas. Leads to my original home. Let me confirm.”

She spoke to Jaccim, who led the horses on leads, in ROI, “Are you sure there is another way out?”

“Oh, yes. Quite sure. It’s been many years. I suppose it could be broken. But there is another exit. There should be, at least.”

She nodded and spoke to the rest in Veritas. “He says there is another exit up ahead. We should be able to open it when we get there.”

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Trunk of Tree glanced ahead and saw a seemingly endless stream of dim blue lights disappearing around a gentle curve. He could see the strange smooth floor. He glanced back the way they had come. More dim blue lights, but they ended in darkness at their entry door.

“I think we should go back. I am the leader. I say we should go back.”

Salah Hudah glanced at Cat Eyes and the others. She walked over to her husband and took his arm in her hands. She looked up into his strong, handsome face. She spoke quietly, still with an accent, though her command of Veritas still grew daily.

“Trunk of Tree, you are our leader, right? Many Paths appointed you? Is that right?”

Trunk of Tree seemed to grow an inch or two. He held his chin high and said, “That’s right! She did!.”

“To do what?” asked Salah.

“What? What do you mean?” asked Trunk of Tree.

Easy Tears said, “She means what were you asked to lead us to do?”

“I am to … I am to lead us … to the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks.“ Trunk of Tree’s voice trailed off. He ground his teeth. He looked at the group. He hoped that they would not see his cheeks redden in the dim blue light. They were all staring at him. He felt as trapped in the logic as he was in this tunnel. The truth was that he was terrified to be trapped like this under the ground. It felt very wrong to him. But he could barely admit that to himself, let alone to the others.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

Cat Eyes swallowed hard. She didn’t want to speak of it or think of it, but she plunged ahead. “I have been through this tunnel myself. There are two ends. Of that I am certain. I came through here as a small child. I survived as a small child. We are all adults now. Surely, we are brave enough to stay a bit longer. We have provisions. If we get to the end, and we cannot open that door, we may have to retrace our steps and try the door we came through. We won’t starve so long as we can eventually get at least one door open.”

Lion Slayer smiled at Trunk of Tree and pounded him on the shoulder. “Let’s go! We’re not going to be less brave than a small child, are we? How about you, Fleet of Foot?”

Fleet of Foot answered eagerly. “I’m for it. But if you are too tired to go on, Trunk of Tree, I could run ahead and run back. I could just leave my pack here. I could report back on how it looks at the other end. This path is so smooth. Now that my eyes are adjusted, I can see enough to run up and back if that is the wish of the group.”

Trunk of Tree sighed. In some way he couldn’t quite put his finger on, control of the group was slipping away from him, but he couldn’t see how to stop it. Then, he had an inspiration and spoke. “Listen, we came her to find the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. That’s what we’re going to do. Let’s all go to the end. We are plenty strong enough to walk back if need be. We have provisions. None of us in injured. Let’s explore and continue. No need to send Fleet of Foot on ahead. Let’s go together. Also, this could still be a trap. So we should stick together. Let’s go.”

Easy Tears stifled a smile and said in a serious tone, “Good idea, Trunk of Tree. Let’s stick together. I am actually pretty eager to see what’s at the other end.” Easy Tears thought back to the time Many Paths had offered up the Seven Rings of Empathy for Trunk of Tree to borrow. They had saved his pride then too. What goes on inside Trunk of Tree, she wondered, that makes him so … unable to learn? He seems to think that being big and being able to bellow loudly means he should be a leader. She Who Saves Many Lives must have seen through to his underlying character.

Trunk of Tree took the lead on their march since there was no need for Jaccim to “choose” the right path. Cat Eyes hung back in order to speak with Jaccim. First, she had to bring herself under control. She had put aside the fact that he was a stealer of children. But now, somehow the flashing moon-lights and the smell of horses had triggered a rage in her. She saw herself strangling him from behind. Such rage was not good. She might not ever be able to forgive and forget, but she wanted some answers.

The group walked at a steady pace, marveling at the continuous stream of images and markings on the sides of the tunnel. She pushed her mind back to her village as she had often tried to do before, but this time, when her mind got to the white clouds that kept her from seeing more, she walked through. In her imagination or memory — she wasn’t sure which — she looked up at the giant warm and smiling face of her mother singing to her. It was only a single flash of memory, but it was more than she had ever been able to achieve before. It made her happy. It made her cry. She did it silently.

Even in the dim blue light, Jaccim could see that something was wrong. He spoke softly in ROI, at least, to the extent that it was possible to speak softly in ROI. He asked her what was wrong.

She stopped in her tracks and whirled about staring at him and pursing her lips tight together, not trusting herself to speak.

Jaccim also stopped, staring at her. He frowned. He looked at the others who marched steadily onward. He began to speak in ROI. “I did steal children. You don’t like me. I did it. I was told to do it and I did it and ….” He balled up his fist and struck the side of his temple with the side of his fist. Then, he pointed to the steal-healing scabs on his face where he had been dragged. “It all hurts.”

He hung his head and shook it. Then he said in a soft voice, using his broken Veritas, “Stealing is bad. Stealing you hurt here.” He thumped his chest. “Sorry me. So sorry me. Now you go home. I help.”

Cat Eyes looked at him. Her fierce gaze began to soften. She turned and began to walk quickly to catch up with the others and to hide her face. After she had walked for a few minutes, it occurred to Cat Eyes that in all the time she had lived with the Z-Lotz and the ROI, she had never heard anyone say that they were sorry for something they did. The closest expression she recalled were someone saying, “Bad luck!” People sometimes would say that when someone they knew got hurt or failed at a task. But taking blame upon themselves? She couldn’t think of a single instance. How odd, she thought.

After some minutes, she thought she had relinquished her anger enough to pose a question to Jaccim. “Do you recognize these moon colored lights?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jaccim, in ROI, “they are here in the tunnel, but as you know, they used to be everywhere.”

“What? What are you talking about? Everywhere? I have never seen lights like this anywhere else.”

“Nor I, Cat Eyes. I am not that old! But in the stories you read about the olden times, there were many descriptions of such lights. You remember?” Jaccim glanced at her quizzically.

Just then, she heard the deep voice of Trunk of Tree proudly bellow out, “I found the other door!”

Cat Eyes left her conversation with Jaccim and began to run to get to the door. Even as she ran, she smiled. Just like Trunk of Tree! After being the only one in their tiny group who wanted to go back, he had been manipulated into going forward. He followed the only path to the end, and now claimed he had “found” the door. Oh, well, at least he brightened my mood. She glanced sidelong back at Jaccim, still a few paces behind. His grim look had been replaced with a smile. Perhaps, she thought, he is a good-hearted person who never learned to look beyond his “orders.” That is more or less what Tu-Swift had told her.

This door looked very similar to the first one, but they saw no groove. Fleet of Foot and Trunk of Tree began running their hands over the surface, while the rest began searching the nearby walls and floor for more of those bright jewels.

Jaccim said to Cat Eyes, “What is everyone doing? Don’t you want to go out the door?”

“Yes, of course! They’re looking for a handle or … something to make the door open. The light is so dim, they can’t find the handle. Do you remember where it is, Jaccim?”

Jaccim frowned and tilted his head. “Handle? There is no handle on the inside of these doors. Why?”

Now the entire group was looking at Jaccim. Even though they couldn’t follow the ROI conversation, they knew something was wrong. They all realized, he was the one who should have known where the handle was.

Trunk of Tree spun around, “You led us in here and there’s no door handle of any kind!? It is a trap! I knew it!”

Jaccim knew something was amiss, but he didn’t know what. He looked at Cat Eyes and asked in ROI, “What is wrong?”

Cat Eyes rolled her eyes and said in ROI, “What is wrong!? Jaccim, you led us in here with no way out!”

Jaccim stared at her for a moment. “There is a way out. Of course there is. This tunnel works like all those of the ancients.” Jaccim looked at her but she looked at him blankly. Then, he added, “Oh, but say it in ROI of course.”

Cat Eyes stared at Jaccim as though he had gone completely mad. He shrugged his shoulders. He stepped forward a few steps and, in ROI, said, “Open the Door.”

——————————————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

The Truth Train

17 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 102 Comments

Tags

coronovirus, COVID-19, life, pandemic, poem, poetry, relationships

Photo by Mark Plötz on Pexels.com

The Truth, a fateful brakeless train,

Has run amok and kills

Both brain and brainless;

Spine and spineless;

Sifts and shifts and swills

The blood of many lies

Upon the tracks of time.

2ED5B35A-54F8-43CB-8534-46D31A07049D_1_105_c

Because there is no time

To cover up and paint our orange face.

It is — or was at least — a race.

And once that banging gun

Announced the start of all this fun

Instead of pushing off against the blocks,

With all our mighty might

And sprinting down the field in flight

Arms and heart together pumping

Like an Usain Bolt from the blue…

athletes running on track and field oval in grayscale photography

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Instead of sprinting to and through the tape

We waved our hands and shook our locks

And called this deadly fight:

“A friendly little spat —

Well, that’s that then, I guess.”

So now we face a hapless mess.

This baseless face; this faceless base

As frivolous as a rape;

As friendly as a shark

Who loves to leave his mark

By chopping off an arm or two

And leave you bleeding red in blue.

69DA271C-940D-4DBF-ACF7-51DA3CF8FB18_1_105_c

And when all is said and done,

How did we ever think that this was all for fun?

How did we think a clown would do

When what we needed was a bolt of blue?

Photo by Oliver Sjöström on Pexels.com

An ocean of lies has made us all dimmer;

And each of us is now a lonely swimmer

In a murky sea of unseen sharks and death.

I may see you on the other side of breath.

Now, we must hold hands across the space

That binds us all; blinds us all; and all without a touch.

The mask is unmasked and beneath the face

We find there’s nothing’s there. It’s all devoid and bare.

We left so much on the gilded legless table

Pretending the genius really was quite stable.

One last chance, we have to care.

One last chance, we have to dare

To call a spade a spade; to say what’s true.

What happens next is up to me — and up to you.

Open the shutters and throw up the sash!

Sing to each other — for each is a brother!

Don’t sweat the cash & don’t sweat the crash.

Focus on love — and love one another!

——————————————

The Declaration of Interdependence

Who are you really?

Author Page on Amazon

What I am Doing to Stay Healthy & Prevent Spreading the Virus.

Sunless Sunday of Faith

15 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

America, animism, faith, life, pandemic, poem, poetry, Sunday, USA

C4AE5680-36D4-44A1-84F8-5ACCDC6B3CEF

Sunless, damp, and drizzly day —

Today;

Grimy slush pockets in a lifeless woods;

Yesterday’s clear path

Overgrown with treacherous bramble bushes.

606141EF-A185-4D60-A8ED-FEBE898DEBA2

Where is my faith? Where is my faith?

A whistling wraith. Where can I find my faith,

Today, on this sunless Sunday?

The Supremes are singing novel tunes today;

A completely different style with a sanctimonious smile.

Today’s Chevy at the levy is a thousand pounds too heavy,

Dripping blood and oil from the bubbling boil of its cranky crankcase.

E056DBCD-67B8-415B-9ECF-A7DE15F7164F_1_105_c

A hole in the ground, today: A Holy hole;

And, all around I hear the desperate screams;

See the people scrambling; feel the flames;

Taste the broken dreams awash in a salty sea.

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

And, so off we go again, half-cocked

On yet another Crusade and once again

The children bear the brunt;

The children feel the flame;

The leaders claim the fame.

“The shot heard ‘round the world” has transmogrified:

“The shots heard all around the world.”

The New Centurions run roughshod

All around the world just because we can.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

All my eggs were not in one basket.

But, today, even the baskets are unravelled —

Shredded reeds scattered all about the floor

Eggs splattered against the open door.

Where is my faith? Where is my faith?

A whistling wraith. Where can I find my faith

On a sunless Sunday, a damp, and drizzly winter day —

Today?

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Cardinals, singing, robins, crows;

Scampering squirrels.

Onion grass, the red florets on maple twigs —

These are my counselors; these are my coaches –

Ministers to my soul, healers of my heart.

Not the famous, complicit in the illicit;

Distracting the base and baseless base

That has become our sad and hollow home.

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Life grows; life knows.

Summers always melt the snows.

And endless greed is yet a sterile seed

That sows its own demise,

While wisdom, ah, sweet wisdom

Will find and mind the wise.

I imagine, John. I imagine still.

I imagine, John. And I always will.

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

A Difficult Journey

11 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

empathy, ethics, legends, life, myths, stories, tales, truth, Veritas

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Trunk of Tree awoke just as the morning sun dispersed the fog. He sat up and then regretted it. Dizziness overcame him along with a pounding headache. He lay back down and the pain in his head doubled. His comrades began to notice that he had awakened.

Easy Tears asked, “How is the head of Trunk of Tree this morning?”

Soon the others had gathered around. “I’m fine. It’s late. We should leave soon. Where are we? Where’s the river?”

Glances were exchanged and in a single minute of silence, Fleet of Foot was nominated and unanimously chosen as the one to take charge of telling Trunk of Tree what had happened and when exactly which truths should be told.

“Last sunset, we were camped by the river and ready to settle down for the night when Jaccim noticed the horses were terribly nervous so indicating danger. There was lightening on the mountains and later we could hear water rushing toward us. Things got very confused then. You might have reminded us then about how Eagle Eyes used rushing water to destroy Cupiditas warriors. You might have led us to higher ground. You might have fallen at some point or been kicked by a horse, but you fell to the ground senseless at some point. Jaccim hoisted you onto a horse. He must be very strong, or perhaps you helped him a bit. Anyway, you lay senseless but safe all night. We tried to wake you up, but we couldn’t make anything like the roar of the water when the flood tore through here. Do you recall all the trees that were down there?”

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Trunk of Tree squinted his eyes. He took his head in his hands. “I don’t remember anything except we found water. And we need to find the Veritas. But we are Veritas. Aren’t we? But who is he? I don’t know you,” he said, pointing to Jaccim. “Why are there horses here?”

“Trunk of Tree,” said Fleet of Foot, “Listen to me. Look at me. I know for sure that you were bumped on the head hard. Hard enough to knock you out for hours. Your memory is … you need to take it easy for a few days till you remember what’s happening. We are Veritas. Yes. But this woman, Cat Eyes, told us of cousins over the Twin Peaks. And, this man, Jaccim, confirmed it. We are headed there now to learn what we can learn from these people. You are leading us. But for now, you should rest and let your head —- your head is like a bird nest that’s been scattered by the storm. Like the bird, you must now rebuild it from those broken pieces. Do you see?”

Fleet of Foot looked first at Easy Tears and she nodded to him. He had done well, but her eyes shifted back to Trunk of Tree. He was going to go along with it. Easy Tears thought perhaps he had somehow learned a lesson to listen to those who know more. Or, perhaps feeling weakened put him in a more receptive mood. We will see whether this is a cool breeze or winter coming, thought Easy Tears. She looked back to Fleet of Foot and nodded again. Message received.

For the next few days as they took it easy till Trunk of Tree seemed to have recovered his full strength, if not his full memory. After three such days of slow walking to accommodate the recovering Veritas, they reached the foot of the first of Twin Peaks. At first, the path was fairly clear and open. Cat Eyes began to have a tingling on the nape of her neck. I am going home, she thought. I am at last going home. Will I remember anyone though? Or, will I be like Trunk of Tree and only remember my new friends? She shook her head slightly. She didn’t want to go through this whole sequence yet again. There’s no point, she told herself firmly. I will see soon enough, at least I will if this fool Trunk of Tree doesn’t get us killed by his stubbornness. He was still groggy, she thought. Maybe I could just pretend to like him, lie with him, and then in his sleep, while everyone else is asleep, I could… end him.

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Cat Eyes was somewhat startled to see Easy Tears and Fleet of Foot standing before her. Easy Tears spoke and the revenge fantasy dissipated like fog. “Does any of this seem familiar to you yet?”

“Oh. Oh, no. But I don’t expect it would. People stayed in our settlement for the most part. Venturing outside was … unnecessary … and also dangerous. We knew there were evil people out there. I mean who else would steal children away from their parents?”

They all considered this for a moment.

Easy Tears said, “Suppose you met someone, fell in love and had a baby. And suppose you raised this baby for years. And then, someone stole your baby away. Wouldn’t you try to steal their baby away and trade it for getting your own back?”

Cat Eyes nodded. “I might indeed. I might get my revenge. But it has to be the right person. I can’t take it out on Trunk of Tree. It’s not his fault.”

Easy Tears and Fleet of Foot looked at each other. Easy Tears said, “Trunk of Tree? What does he have to do with this?”

Cat Eyes stared at the two of them. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else. Back to your story. Why couldn’t I just tell them that I would take their child unless they gave mine back?”

Fleet of Foot nodded. “That might work. But the other person might simply keep your child but be more on guard about their own children. They might take your threat as a warning and they would prevent you from actually doing it.”

“Especially,” added Easy Tears, “if they had Killing Sticks.” She paused for a moment. “So, I might. If that were the only way to get my own child back. Strike without warning.”

After a fair pause, Fleet of Foot said, “What if that’s what the reason the Z-Lotz have the ROI steal children?”

Easy Tears was taken aback. “What? What are you talking about? They stole Tu-Swift. They stole Dah-Nah. They stole Cat Eyes, too. No-one stole their children. At least, not yet.”

Fleet of Foot continued, “But how do we know that? If we had stolen children, or our grandparents’ grandparents had, would we have sung songs about it? Even if it never happened, the Z-Lotz might think it had happened. Most of them may think they are somehow protecting their own children. Or trying to get their own kids back. I don’t know.”

They sat, for a time, in silence. It was time to break camp. As Cat Eyes stood, she looked the two of them intently. “I know. I know how to tell.”

“How is that?” asked Easy Tears.

She answered in a quiet, venomous voice, “If you stole a child in order to get your own back, would you make it perform sexual favors for you in the meantime?”

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“No,” answered Easy Tears, “of course not. That’s disgusting.”

“Nor I, of course. Horrible,” said Fleet of Foot and he grimaced.

“I thought not,” said Cat Eyes. “That’s how you know they are evil. There is no excuse for raping a child no matter how many lies they tell about it.”

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Fate and Late on the Interstate

10 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

cellphone, driving, fiction, life, short story, story, Travel, truth

Braintree: Don secured Timmy’s Infant Seat, shut the door and slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced over at Ivy and smiled.

Reading: Mitch’s eyes already drooped. He cracked the window; turned up the radio. His 18-wheeler responded sluggishly around the curves, the cylindrical hold sated with liquid propane.

Norwood: Don glanced left at the small planes circling the airport. “When Timmy’s older and we’ve socked away some money, I’m learning to fly.”
Ivy frowned and stared for a moment at her husband before asking, “Why on earth would you do that?”

Woburn: Mitch wondered to himself, why is 128 always crowded with traffic, day or night? God, I’m tired. What station to choose? Too many lights, he thought to himself and rubbed his eyes. He opened his driver-side window fully. The air was warm and moist.

Needham: “Don, didn’t we promise to bring wine?”
“Shoot! Yeah. Not sure where though. They don’t have anything like that at the rest stops.”
“Better hurry or we’ll miss the fireworks.”
“I promise Ivy. We won’t miss the fireworks. Hand me my phone.”

Lexington: Mitch thought, Crap. No truck stops? I need coffee. Only on the Pike maybe. No, there’s gotta be one here somewhere. Geez. I pity poor Jim who has this boring route every day. A promise is a promise though. Mitch smiled and thought, you owe me, Jim, big time.

Wellesley: “Ivy, do you remember — didn’t we visit Shelly off this exit once and I’m pretty sure there’s a wine store right down Washington. Right?”
“All I remember is your outrageous flirting with Shelly all night. Give me the phone. I’ll look it up. Anyway, Washington is mostly boarded up these days. Dead.”
“I did not! I wasn’t flirting.”
“Just promise you’ll never to do it again. And hand me the phone.”

Waltham: Windows rattled. Expensive porcelain shattered. Babies awoke. Dogs barked.

Boston: Many saw the bright and distant flash. Most assumed it was merely ordinary folks in Lexington or Concord celebrating the birth of the nation; celebrating their freedom from the tyranny of a distant ruler; celebrating their independence from foreign rule.