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Many Paths becomes Clear

14 Saturday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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As Many Paths heard the words of She Who Saves Many Lives and took them into her heart, she felt her shoulders relax. She slowed her breathing and took inventory of what she was grateful for as well as what was missing. But the elder leader was right. She needed to keep a cool head. She put out the word that she wanted to dialogue with the elders at sundown. On impulse, she ran over to Shadow Walker and interrupted for a moment his progress in preparing. She held his hand for a moment, kissed him tenderly on the cheek for a moment. She tasted a salty tear. She sighed and turned once again. She could see that her people busied themselves walking competently from one task to the next. Only the little wolf pups seemed to be at a loss for what to do. They sniffed around the camp as though…

Suddenly, Many Paths turned and called back, “Shadow Walker! Take the pups!” 

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Shadow Walker’s frowned. “Many Paths…? Why would we…?” Shadow Walker glanced at the pups. “Of course!” he said, understanding and smiling back at Many Paths. They were not fully trained, but they were strong enough to keep up and they could help in the tracking when human eyes failed with the setting sun and human ears heard only silence. They were already searching for Tu-Swift and could catch his scent far better than any one of the Veritas. 

Once inside the cabin of She Who Saves Many Lives, Many Paths saw that a small fire had already been set and could smell that a tea had been brewing. She sat cross-legged next to She Who Saves Many Lives and sighed a deeper sigh of relief. Her hand drifted to the necklace of rings and she smiled. “I thought I was done with the seven trials. But perhaps they have just begun. I wish they actually held magic as some of the people whisper.”

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“Well, Many Paths, about that…. I told you the truth about the rings, but not the complete truth because I needed you first to focus on the important central truth — that opening your mind and opening your heart is far more important than having the rings. You seem to be doing that quite well now.”  

“What are you saying, Shaman? Is there magic in these rings after all?” Many Paths searched the old woman’s face.

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“Properly conceived, there is magic in all things. By magic, I do not mean that you can rub one of the rings and summon a flying red dragon.” They both chuckled and then She Who Saves Many Lives looked directly into the eyes of Many Paths. “But each plant; each cousin who moves; each stone — each is slightly different from any of the others. These rings are what they are. They are unique. And therefore they have unique properties. Those properties are no more magical than those of anything else. But nor are they less magical. Slide the first ring off your laniard and put it in your palm if you would and tell me what you see and what you feel.”

Many Paths was the leader now, but it would be a foolish leader who did not value the wisdom of those with more experience and among the Veritas, She Who Saves Many Paths was the only one yet living who had once been the leader. Many Paths felt a great responsibility as the leader of her people and therefore had no desire whatsoever to be a willful petulant child. Of course, she took off the First Ring of Empathy and put it in her hands.

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“Well, obviously, it is in the shape of a circle. That way, it may slide onto my finger. That reminds me of the circle of Life, I suppose. It’s a circle with me in it. Life encircles me. And the ripples of love or hatred that I send forth will come back round. That is true for everyone, not just me. But I guess … I guess the ring is a reminder of that. A constant reminder. Think what will come back. And that … the moon has phases … but returns always to the same phases. The sun rises and sets. And there is the larger circle of seasons. So… the ring is a reminder? I guess that is magic in a way.”

“Indeed, Many Paths, that is exactly right. What else do you sense? But don’t forget to drink your tea!”

Many Paths lifted the mug and watched the steam cloud upward in a slant of sunlight. She sipped the hot tea carefully. It tasted of chamomile and linden flower. Her favorite. Of course. She Who Saves Many Lives seemed to know much about every member of the tribe: what they preferred; what they were capable of. She set the mug down carefully and regarded the ring again. This time she picked it up and turned it about. “This stone is pretty. It is clear. It has no color.” Many Paths looked up at She Who Saves Many Lives. “Is that right?”

She Who Saves Many Lives looked back at Many Paths. “You say it has no color. What do you see?” 

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“I see it has no color. Well, it has no color of its own. It reflects what is around it. Right now, I can see twinkles of red and yellow from the fire.” Many Paths reflected on this. “I suppose that a good leader needs also to be clear, to reflect clearly on what really is so that appropriate action may be taken. There is something else odd about this stone though. I noticed it before. When I look through it at something,” she said as she brought the right to her eye, “there are two when really there are only one. Right now, I see two fires, but there is only really one.” Now, Many Paths paused a long time. “I suppose that is a kind of magic, but … I suppose there could be two fires in the future. The nature of fire is such that if you are not careful, it can spread. If I look at a tree…well, that is the nature of life as well. Where there is one of something that is seen, often there comes to be two or even many in the future. Where I see one, there are often more that remain unseen. If these people stole Tu-Swift, perhaps they stole more children. If they stole more children, it will cause hatred against them. That hatred will come back to them, one way or another. But I cannot know that they did that.”

“That is true. You cannot know that. You are correct Many Paths.”

Many Paths sighed. “But perhaps it is more likely than not. It may be natural for me to focus on my own pain at losing Tu-Swift. I have been wondering whether they even stole him on purpose because they know I am the leader. But I suppose…even though we only know of one child stolen…that a people who steal the children of others…will tend to do it again and again.” 

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Many Paths took another sip of the calming tea. Once again, she set down the mug carefully and considered the nature of the ring. “The ring is metal. It is hard. Much harder than my body is. Except perhaps for my teeth. No, it is also harder than my teeth.” 

Another long pause transpired before Many Paths spoke again. “I suppose that though my nature is to be open and loving, sometimes, I must protect myself, ring myself, with harder stuff. Then, there is the coldness or hotness of the ring. Although I shiver if I get cold enough and sweat in the heat of the summer, I stay the same inside. The ring, however… just as it reflects the color of what is around it, it also reflects the temperature. I think metal always does this. It reflects the temperature of what is around it as well as the color. I do not see … yet … how this might help me.” 

Many Paths put the ring on her finger again. As she tried to think of other properties of the ring, she began drumming her fingers on the edge of a nearby log. She noticed that when her ring hit the log, that finger had a quite different feel from the others. Then she picked up a small rock nearby and experimented with drumming her finger on the rock. She not only felt the rock quite differently. It also made a distinctive noise. If she did it quickly, it reminded her of a woodpecker. “So, I see you have given me a very small, very light drum as well! I begin to see your point. This ring is quite magical!” 

She Who Saves Many Lives smiled. “Yes, my daughter, but it is not my point. The point is there for everyone to share.” 

Many Paths laughed. Then, she shook her head wondering how the Shaman could be such a good teacher. She wondered whether she could ever be such a good teacher. Then her mood darkened again as she thought of Tu-Swift and all the things she had tried to teach him. If he were killed, it would all be for naught. 

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She Who Saves Many Lives spoke gently. “And, what troubles you now, daughter and fine leader?” 

Many Paths stared into the fire, took another sip of tea and said, “Perhaps it’s nearly time to start the dialogue. Thank you for the tea.” Many Paths toyed with the First Ring of Empathy which now adorned her left ring finger. She thought to herself, “I must sometimes ring myself with hardness. I cannot always rely on She Who Saves Many Lives. As surely as the sun sets, she will return to the Great Tree of Life as do we all. A circle. And, although I ache for Tu-Swift to safely return, if he does not, my teachings will not be useless. He has already spread his own love and wisdom to others, for despite his impatient eagerness, his is a heart of love. And that already has made ripples and those ripples will have other ripples. Teaching and showing love are never for naught.” Many Paths smiled and looked at She Who Saves Many Lives as she spoke. 

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“I am ready for dialogue now, great mother. And, yes, these rings are indeed magical for now my heart is clear. We must dialogue together and see what all the reflections together say to us about what is and what may be and how to get there. For no journey ends without starting another.” 

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Author Page on Amazon.

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The First Ring of Empathy. 

The Start of Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas. 

An Essay on Ripples. 

On Finding Common Ground

The Impossible

The Dance of Billions

Imagine All the People…

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Tools of Thought

Pattern Language Summary

 

 

Many-Paths Constructs her Way

13 Friday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, family, fantasy, fiction, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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books, creativity, culture, fantasy, fiction, governance, leadership, life, politics, short story, story, strategy, tactics, truth, Veritas, writing

Many-Paths knew that the Veritas needed to respond swiftly to this attack. A people who stood astride horses though! What else did they not know about these people? What purpose did they have in stealing Tu-Swift? Had they known that Tu-Swift was her closest kin? She quickly gathered her closest friends and advisors. Among them were Eagle Eyes, Shadow Walker, and She Who Saves Many Lives. 

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Many-Paths noted that others were listening from a polite distance including the new friends of Fleet of Foot and Eagle Eyes, Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah, who were also close by. She had no reason to distrust these new friends. She looked at their faces and into their hearts and saw only a willingness to help. She spoke quickly and calmly. “I propose Eagle Eyes and Fleet of Foot to choose a number of good trackers to follow the trail of these thieves to their origin. If you see a very safe opportunity to recapture Tu-Swift, make use of it. But your main goal is to bring back information about this enemy and avoid capture yourself. Try to determine, if possible, why they did this and whether they have any allies. Find out what you can about how many horses they have and how they manage to stand astride them.” 

Lion Slayer bit his lip and glanced at Fleet of Foot and then back to Many Paths. He tilted his head at Fleet of Foot and looked questioningly at him. Fleet of Foot had learned to understand these gestures and spoke to Many Paths: “Many-Paths, I believe our friend Lion Slayer has something to say.” 

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Many-Paths could see that this was so. She nodded to him. “Yes, Lion Slayer?”

“I believe, though I cannot be sure, that your attackers are a tribe that call themselves the ROI.” 

“Please continue,” said Many-Paths. 

“According to legend, ROI were once a tribe we met with. The many tribes in our region got together each year for celebration, trade, and mate-finding. One portion of land, the many tribes fought over. We decided end fighting. Instead, we all agreed to a race to determine who would inhabit that highly desirable place. All tribes chose their fastest runner to compete. But when they returned for the contest, ROI did not have human runner. They used man on horseback. Of course, they won the “race” and won the prize though none of the other tribes thought this completely fair. The matter might have ended there, but the ROI did other things to annoy and challenge all the other tribes. At last, we drove them from their lands. Before doing so, we observed how badly they treated their horses. They tethered them and beat them until their spirits were broken. I cannot say for certain that these were ROI, but that is the one tribe that our wisdom said rides on horses. I had not seen this in person, but my grandfather’s grandfather did.” 

Many-Paths swallowed hard and bit her lip. “So, if they are indeed ROI, as you call them, we know two things. They are a cruel people and may also try to break the spirit of Tu-Swift. And, we know that they have had at least six generations to learn to control horses. Do you have any idea how numerous they are?” 

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“No, Many-Paths. I have no idea how they have fared since leaving our region. The only other thing I know about them from our stories is that they particularly held high value on doing things quickly. They cared far less for making things beautiful or taking pleasure in life. But again – that was long ago and I cannot be certain the attack was from them.”

“You have been very helpful. Thank you. I am sorry to cut your feast short and steal away your new friends for this mission.” 

“I understand, Many-Paths. I meet only small time Tu-Swift, but I like. We value much our friendship with Veritas. If you permit, we will go to aid. To find Tu-Swift. To understand ROI. This will be valuable to know for our tribe as well.” 

Many-Paths appreciated the offer, but she already felt overwhelmed. To trust strangers on such an important mission? This complicated a complicated situation. She glanced at Eagle Eyes who nodded in assent as did Fleet of Foot. 

“We have not heard from you, Hudah Salah. Do you wish to accompany as well?” 

Silence fell. Glances flitted about like mating butterflies. 

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Original artwork by Jeremy Colier.

At last, Hudah Salah spoke, “My husband knows my heart, Many-Paths. I will go too if it you allow it.” 

Many-Paths considered reminding Hudah Salah of the dangers but decided this might be insulting. Danger was obvious and she had already said she wanted to go. 

“So be it then; gather provisions as you must and be off. Take two small drums so that you can communicate if need be. This may give away your position but you may also help give away theirs and let us know whether you need more help.” 

Eagle Eyes now added, I may also send back hawks with small maps attached. I believe that they will again come back to me after you find these maps and release them. We discovered that the Nomads of the South have already learned much about training birds and we have all improved our skills. 

“Make it so.” 

As the tracking band quickly prepared, Many-Paths next asked Trunk of Tree to set up double guard posts in case the ROI, if that’s who they indeed were, mounted another attack. She asked Shadow Walker to try to determine how the archers had slipped through their guards and to find the inward path to their center place should that prove different from their exit. 

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At last, all the people were preparing in one way or another. Many-Paths realized she was tired, thirsty, and famished as well as deeply troubled in her heart. Would these ROI also use whips and ropes to try to break her brother’s spirit? But she would push all that aside for she had one more task. She needed to dialog with She Who Saves Many Lives and other tribal elders. Their world had been turned inside out and a joyous feast had been instead a time of great fear and disruption. What did it mean that tribes were using other animals in human wars? The Veritas too had done exactly that with hawks and wolves. It had seemed the right thing to do in defeating the Cupiditas, but now it seemed horses were being used as well. Beaten? Tethered? All to gain control over horses. But what might they do to Tu-Swift? How was the world changing? That is why she wanted the memories of those who had seen many more winters. That is why her own needs for sleep and food and thirst must be postponed. 

She turned once again to walk toward the cabin of She Who Saves Many Lives. And there she was!.Once again, She Who Saves Many Lives stood only a few feet away. Despite everything, or perhaps because of everything, Many-Paths laughed aloud. “How do you do that? Every time I need you, there you are. You are remarkable. I can never be what you are.” 

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“I should hope not. I am me. You are you, Many-Paths. You are not meant to be, nor can you be me.” 

“I just mean…can I be as good a leader as you are? You seem to be able to read minds.” 

“No more so than you, Daughter of the Tribe, Mother of the Tribe, Leader of the Tribe. There is no great trick. You did all this and more when you passed the seven trials. It is not so magical to understand that you are worried about Tu-Swift. You are worried about the tribe. You are disappointed that the feast did not go as planned. You are grateful yet worried about sending two of the Nomads on such a critical mission. You are worried whether you will be an adequate leader. You are worried whether the world seems to be a different place than the one you grew up in. Of course, you would be wise to seek my counsel and I will be glad to give it. And you seek the counsel of other elders in the tribe as well. There is no trick to understanding that beyond opening my heart to your heart and putting myself in your place. We will indeed have a dialogue about all that has happened. First, however, you need to eat, drink, and rest. Look upon this wonderful world and see it again with the eyes of youth. Let your heart drink in and fully enjoy some of the pleasures of life before dialogue. A dialogue based only on fear and, perhaps revenge, will not necessarily be one that results in wisdom. Wisdom needs to acknowledge both the reality of life and of the reality of death. The true path can never be based solely on one or the other.” 

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Author Page on Amazon. 

The First Ring of Empathy

Fish have no word for “water”

Absolute is not just a vodka

After the Reign

All We Stand to Lose

Somewhere a Bird Cries

An Open Sore to Hell

Poker Chips

My Cousin Bobby

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

You Bet Your Life

Math Class: Who Are You?

Imagine All the People…

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

Tu-Swift in a Cage

11 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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books, fantasy, fiction, leadership, life, management, politics, short story, story, strategy, tactics, truth, Veritas, writing

Tu-Swift awoke from a lovely dream of home so vivid he could smell honey-sweetened ground nuts. He awoke to find himself shivering on a bare pounded earth floor. At least his hood had been removed and he could see that he was in a small wooden room. Gaps in the wooden slats allowed some light in. Tu-Swift again took inventory. Apart from some bruised ribs, his arrow-injured hand, and a large bump on the back of his head, he seemed unhurt. Physically. Where in the world was he? 

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Normally, he would have been peering out from between the slats, but his confidence had been badly shaken. He replayed that scene again, but he could still make no sense of it. No, that wasn’t true. Many-Paths had given him many thinking tools. True enough, he had no recollection of what happened, beyond running into a sapling. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t outline some reasonable alternatives. At the same time, it would be useful to recon the surroundings. Tu-Swift wanted to begin his reconnaissance in such a way that he would minimize anyone seeing him in turn. 

He looked out from the deepest shadows of his small cell. In the distance, he could see a herd of horses. But something was wrong. They were moving very oddly. They all seem to be tethered in some way. Tu-Swift frowned and was rewarded with a sharp pain at the back of his head. It seemed completely agains the nature of a horse to have it tethered. 

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Tu-Swift suddenly realized that he may have been bouncing on the back of a horse. He wondered: How could such a thing come to be? Of course, he thought, there might be other possibilities. He crept with the silent stalking skills of the Veritas. Even though Tu-Swift was in relative darkness, he only moved when the wind moved. Out these gaps between the slats, however, not much could be seen because of another near building. He could still make out the horses, but now he saw a smaller enclosure with three horses and these did not seem tethered. After peering up and down, he discovered nothing else of use. He crept to the opposite side and looked out. 

He could see a group of women sitting in a circle grinding grain on small stone mills. This was a sight he was well familiar with. He had seem the same in the Veritas central place. A bit farther off, Tu-Swift could see a group of braves working on breaking up large logs into smaller ones. These appeared to be for fire rather than building because they were not taking care as to the size of the pieces. Once again, these sights gladdened him because they reminded him of home. The garb was different, but these activities were the same. Except…the men were chopping through the wood at a terrific pace. Also, the corn grinding was going very fast, as though, they were being chased by a wild animal. Perhaps I’ll like this place, he thought, and then immediately felt guilty for thinking it. 

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Then, it hit him: This was not home. Nothing like it. I’m being imprisoned for — having done nothing wrong. I was stolen from my home. And those grinders of the corn and the hewers of the logs are not talking. There are no stories being told. No jokes are being shared. No songs. This is not anything like home.

Tu-Swift felt a panic welling up so he consciously relaxed his muscles as an antidote. He knew that panic was not his ally. He slowed his breathing. He spoke his mantra mentally and began riffing on it. Once his mind turned to improvisational music, he was in a state far from panic. He returned to the situation at hand, which was nothing more or less than a problem solving task. True, the stakes were likely his life, but that could be true at any moment, whether you had been stolen from your family or not. 

So, Tu-Swift thought, I need a reconnaissance plan and an escape plan. But I cannot make a reasonable escape plan until I learn more about where I am and who these people are. Tu-Swift, still reluctant to peer out the side where the sunlight entered his cell, lest his apparent captors find out he was awake, crept back to the first side. As he did so, he saw several men walking toward the herd of horses. Each held a club in their hand. It was a strange club with thongs of rawhide attached. As they reached the tethered horses, one of them reared up, pinwheeling his hooves in the air. Two of the men swished their clubs through the air and stung the stallion with the rawhide. The rawhide appeared to be weighted at the end, perhaps with a clamped piece of metal. The horse screamed in pain. But one of the men moved in closer and whipped the horse again. 

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Tu-Swift had learned from Many Paths how the Veritas trained wolves and hawks. Indeed, though his own nature proved too impatient to make him an excellent trainer, he had had some success with two of the wolf cubs. The training was mainly based on mutual respect and love. The training of these people seemed to be based on hatred and fear. He wondered whether they taught their children the same way. 

Children! That was the other realization that suddenly hit him. He cautiously went back to view the pounding corn and cutting wood. There were no children. In fact, he had seen no children in any of his views. He wondered: How would the children learn to do such tasks if they never observed them being done? There was much still to be learned about these strange people. He made no more mental jokes about wanting to stay here. Homesickness for his people and especially for Many-Paths began once more to overtake him. But in his twelve winters, the tribe had taught him what to do when one’s thinking becomes cloudy with fear or anger. 

Tu-Swift calmed himself and concentrated on trying to identify the plants in the distance as well as nearby weeds. Many of the trees appeared to be cedar or pine. The odor of cedar in particular was strong. He felt the rough planking of his cell. It too was cedar. Weatherproof and easy to work, but not very strong for a cage or prison. 

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Tu-Swift wondered whether he might be able to kick out the planks of his enclosure. His captors had stolen his moccasins. Because he liked to run barefoot for the extra speed, his feet were pretty tough, but he didn’t relish the thought of trying to escape back to his tribe — which so far lay in an unknown direction — in bare feet. He would need to find his moccasins or steal someone else’s. Even if he could kick out some planks, he would make such a commotion that he would be discovered long before he could make a large enough hole for his body to fit through. Yet, he realized that someone would come check on him. If they found him awake, they might kill him, or tie him up, or torture him. 

I need a weapon, he thought. Well, his speed was a weapon of sorts. But he would definitely need a head start. What if they had trained horses to track people down and kill them? Tu-Swift knew he could not outrun a horse. Perhaps they had trained other animals as well. He hadn’t heard any wolves howling. The plants he saw led to a conclusion that he was either at a higher elevation or farther north than the Veritas or possibly both. How far had they travelled? He had been unconscious for some of the journey so it was hard to tell. He was hungry and more thirsty than hungry, but he was not yet delirious. He felt the bruise on his chest where he had smacked into the seedling. It was still sore. He must be only a day’s journey from the Veritas – two at the very most. This meant that if he could escape, he could return in one or two days, but only if he were not caught. Once more his mind began to race from one unknown to the next, from one possibility to the next. 

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“Tu-Swift,” he whispered to himself, “you need to stay focused. Build and decorate your tree.” {Translator’s note}: I might have used the word ‘plan’ or ‘contingency plan’ but the Veritas enjoyed decorating trees and often referred to building their contingency plans as “decorating the tree” by way of analogy. When time permitted, the plans of the Veritas included many branches and side branches — far more than most modern people have. To “decorate” the tree would mean that Tu-Swift would not only make many contingency plans but also “play them out” in his head so that he could react quickly and without hesitation when the time came for speed. Sometimes the Veritas referred to one of their adages, “Plant the acorns; forage the forests” which meant basically that it was a good idea, not only to think of many possible contingencies but to actually practice them mentally. 

If he did escape this enclosure, his tentative plan was to run both downhill and toward the area of greatest underbrush. Shadow Walker had once told him that the only possible way to outrun a bear was to run down a steep hill. The bear, because of its greater size could not achieve top speed in such conditions. Tu-Swift could not recall anyone telling him how to outrun horses. Somehow the idea that they could send horses out after him seemed against the nature of horses. If they send wolves to track him down, he could more easily believe that wolves could be trained to kill. There was so much more to learn. And yet, the longer he stayed here, the greater danger he put himself in. They whipped their horses. Perhaps they ate their children. That seemed impossible. A tribe that cared nothing for the future would not long survive. Surely, every tribe must see that. But these people seemed to be as cruel as the Cupiditas. 

He occasionally heard snippets of conversation. He knew only that they were not speaking any of the tongues he had studied. If he were here for long, he would have to learn their language. That would be difficult. He would have to listen with “broken dishes.” Eyes-of-Eagle had once explained to Tu-Swift that once you learned your native tongue you put all sounds that you heard into one of a series of “dishes.” Every sound that sounded like the wind in the aspen trees would go into one dish and every sound that reminded you of a cracking branch would have to go into a different dish. In reality, every sound spoken was slightly different. But when you “understood” what was said, you had to ignore all those differences and treat each sound as just another example of a category. To learn to hear and speak a different language, you would need to “break all those dishes” and listen to the pure sounds until you constructed a new set of dishes for the new language. That took a long time. 

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He had been turning things over and over in the hands of his mind but kept pushing one thing away. Now, it came rushing in with full force. Where were the Veritas? Why hadn’t Many-Paths, and Shadow Walker and the rest of the tribe come to find him? Tu-Swift was angry. Why had they not followed the trail and rescued him? One possible reason…one possible reason he did not really want to imagine was that the Veritas had all been killed. It was almost unimaginable. But it was also unimaginable that Many-Paths would simply say, “Oh, well. Too bad. Let’s get back to feasting.” Feasting! That’s why he had run into the sapling. He and Many-Paths were racing to the feast of Bel-Tanay. Excellent! Now, if he could see even a few stars or the face of tonight’s moon, he could tell exactly how many days since his capture. 

The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He heard voices. He tried to mentally crack apart all his mental crockery and listen. They were coming closer. He quietly went back to where he had awakened and arranged his body so that he could peer out from under his arm and he pretended to be asleep. He judged there must be at least four men outside his door. They were talking in sounds that made no sense and also laughing. 

One man opened a small opening to look inside. He then unlatched something and slid part of one wall aside. They are coming for me, Tu-Swift thought with a sudden panic. Should I make a run for it now? This might be my best chance. Before he could decide, however, they threw a wild animal in with him and slid the door back in place. He still feigned sleep but regarded the animal. It screamed hideous noises. 

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The voices outside receded and the animal, rather than attacking him, huddled in a corner and screamed. Tu-Swift considered: It sounds nearly human. Its forelegs are wrapped around its hind legs much like — it is — it is a child. This is not a wild animal but a human child, of perhaps only three or four winters. What? Why would they possibly capture a small child and throw it in a cage? What kind of a people would do that? 

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Books by the same author: 

The Winning Weekend Warrior: strategy, tactics, & the ‘mental game’ for all sports. Enjoy your sport(s) more and win more often.

Turing’s Nightmares: 23 Sci-Fi stories meant to explore the possible impact of AI on business, society, and humanity. Be ready. It’s coming!

Fit in Bits: Suggestions for many ways to incorporate more fun and exercise into daily activities such as shopping, sitting in meetings, playing with your kids, standing in line, traveling, etc. Meant for the very busy person who nonetheless would like to live a long healthy life. 

Tales from an American Childhood recounts early experiences and then reflects on them in light of current events and issues.

——————————

The creation myth of the Veritas.

The beginning of Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas. 

An Open Sore from Hell

The Crows and Me

After All

All We Stand to Lose

Fish Have No Word for Water

At Least He’s Our Monster

Tools of Thought

Pattern Language Summary

The Myths of the Z-Lotz

10 Tuesday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, nature, politics, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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The Myths of the Z-Lotz. 

{Translator’s Notes}. Much like other tribes whose myths are here recorded, the myths of the Z-Lotz were mainly passed down by oral tradition for many years before being written down. What is most striking about the Z-Lotz is not so much their myths, but the way that they used the myths in daily life. Most of the tribes at that time told their myths often, and they served many purposes. For instance, many of the stories of the Veritas were used often as a guide for current action. The stories had details and they had central learnings. The Veritas seemed, so far as I can tell, not to be confused about which was more important. To the Veritas, the central learning was the core, the important part to think about and perhaps use as a guide. They felt that these central learnings had been argued about and trialed many times both in imagination and in action and found to be generally sound guidance. By contrast, the Z-Lotz seem to have a different fundamental relationship to their myths. They often seemed to focus on (what I would consider) the irrelevant details of a particular story as opposed to the central learning. We can discern this because, just as many tribes did, the Z-Lotz referred to earlier myths in their later myths. This is illustrated by the short fragment of Z-Lotz mythology translated below. 

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“In his wanderings to create the Z-Lotz, Nepec found himself hungry so he walked down to a nearby brook. When he approached however, he saw that many other folks were already fishing and many such fish had already been captured by others. So, its being of the time of the Autumn Moon, Nepec decided to forage for apples. He saw the gnarled trunk that signaled likely apples and walked over. This tree had been picked clean of fruit! Still hungry, he walked over the crest of the knoll and saw in a small hollow below some blackberry bushes. It was likely too late for blackberries but the leaves could be boiled and eaten. So, he picked a large number of leaves and also captured six large grasshoppers who were leaping about. These he made into a stew that satisfied him. He slept peacefully that night and the next morning returned to his journey toward the great Sea that the Bear of the Sky had pointed him to.”  

The Veritas, much as modern folk might, might draw any one of a number of lessons from this such as: “If the first path does not work out, try another.” The Cupiditas might have preferred a story in which Nepec simply took the fish after killing the other fishermen, but if they had heard the story as written, they would still come up with a similar lesson perhaps expressed this way: “When you want something but someone else has it, you must overcome all obstacles to take it. Otherwise, you may be forced to eat nothing but boiled leaves and grasshoppers.” The ROI would likely take a more rigid lesson such as, “You must try three ways and the third way will succeed.” The Z-Lotz, however, inferred an even more limited lesson: “During the Autumn Moon, Fish are forbidden meat. Apples are forbidden fruit. You must feast in celebration of the Autumn Moon only on blackberry leaves and grasshoppers.” 

green grasshopper

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Needless to say, in order to survive, many of the Z-Lotz would eat something different during the Autumn Moon, but they would apparently always feel guilty about it. They would try to do it secretly or with only the family watching. While in public, they would make a great show of eating only blackberry leaves and fried grasshoppers as though eating anything else would be disrespectful to Nepec or even the Bear of the Sky. 

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A few scholars (Ara Pologist, 2001; Izzy Rong, 2017) have argued that the Z-Lotz simply found the tradition fun. While that may have been true in the instance of many individuals of the Z-Lotz tribe, it certainly doesn’t explain why people were burned at the stake for eating fish during the Autumn Moon. Nor, does it explain why laws were passed to ban apples during the Autumn Moon when it’s obviously the best time to eat them. It would detract too much from the upcoming epic narrative to digress into a review of all the evidence here, but it seems well-established that, whatever the unknown motives of individual Z-Lotz may have been, their societal mores were based on an unthinking devotion to the literal details of the Z-Lotz myths. 

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I bring this to the reader’s attention now, because some of the decisions that the Z-Lotz made in the following tales would otherwise make no sense. The ultimately absurd decisions evidenced by the Z-Lotz further belie the interpretations of Pologist & Rong in that their alliance with the remnants of the Cupiditas and the ROI were serious decisions for the Z-Lotz, not decisions about the details of a feast. And yet, the evidence seems clear that these decisions were based on the specific details of Z-Lotz myths. (The reader is free, of course, to reach their own conclusions).


Author Page on Amazon

Tools of Thought

Pattern Language for Cooperation & Teamwork

The Pros and Cons of AI

Social Media

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Two

Essays on America: Labelism

You Bet Your Life

The Update Problem

Essays on America: Wednesday

The Stopping Rule

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

When Greed is the Only Creed

Occam’s Chainsaw Massacre

All that We May Lose

After All

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Myths of the Veritas: Book 2 – The ROI

09 Monday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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{Translator’s Note}: The origins of the ROI tribe are not universally agreed upon but the “story” or “myth” or “history” that I personally prefer is the premise used in this story. Their language is precise in some ways, yet deeply embedded at both the syntactic and semantic levels are very rigid category framings. In some areas that we would consider important, they had scarcely any vocabulary at all. For example, they had only one word for love and viewed love as something of a disaster rather than as something wonderful. Often it was described as a kind of disease. (This “disease” allowed us to survive as a species). But for them, things that proved less rigid and less predictable and less quantifiable seem to have been confusing, uncomfortable and evil. Difficulties abounded in my attempts to portray what was actually happening until the Narrator told me that it was fine; he would fix it later because he had an omniscient view. 

What follows served as both a creation myth and a daily devotional prayer among the ROI from early childhood till death.   

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“Long ago, there were many tribes. But our tribe, the ROI, proved best of all. This is what we know: 

“Each tribe had developed a different way of looking at life. Some argued that this was a natural consequence of having spent a long time in a different environment. But we know the truth; we chose our way because it is the best way. Ours is the way of putting numbers to everything and making very strict rules. 

“Other tribes had different ideas so we devised a contest to see which tribe was correct. We would see who could propel their bodies fastest from the north edge of the common plain of Many Herds to the south end of the plain. All the tribes would go and prepare in whatever way they felt best and we would reconvene in one year to see who would win. 

“All the other tribes interpreted our words to mean that we would have individuals from each tribe race for the prize — a fine parcel of land that stretched to the banks of the Stream of Many Trout. The various tribes went off and had various ways of choosing their fastest runners and having them train and train. Of course, we already had a superior solution: horses. After many years we discovered how to capture horses and then train them with the use of whips. Having a superior solution is the reason we suggested the contest.

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“When the day of the Great Contest came, the rest of the tribes were quite shocked to see the champion for the ROI astride a horse. Some seemed to think the horse would kill the human-astride or that the human-astride might break the back of the horse and kill it. Some felt it highly unlikely that the human-astride or rider would stay astride.  {Translator’s Note: Analyses reveal that there was a shortening of the name as “riding” became more widespread.} Naturally, when the race was run, the ROI won. And, also naturally, the other tribes objected. But these objections eventually became mere glowing coals. 

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“Most tribes wanted to know how to capture and train horses. Naturally, we declined to show them. And, that wanting to have as their own that which was rightfully ours is why their complaints rekindled the fires of war. And, so the tribes worked together to drive us from our rightful home and we became wanderers. And so, we have been seeking another land. We will make this happen and destroy whoever now claims such a land. Let us remember this day, and every day of our lives, to assign numbers to all that is and to follow every rule exactly.” 


 

Author page on Amazon

Beginning of the Myths of the Veritas

Feast and Fire

Index to Pattern Language for Cooperation & Teamwork

Essays on “Family Matters”

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Dance of Billions

When Greed is the Only Creed

Labelism

Wednesday

It was in his Nature

At Least he’s Our Monster

What Could be Better? A Horror Story

If Only…

Business Process Re-engineering Comes to Baseball

Roar, Ocean, Roar

On Horses?

08 Sunday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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decision, fantasy, fiction, horses, leadership, life, myths, peace, politics, short story, story, truth, Veritas, war, writing

Though the Veritas were at high feast and had no known enemies, they reacted with amazing speed and fluid preparedness. They radiated out to previously staked out positions across the stream, opposite the direction of the arrows. Shadow Walker and Fleet of Foot ran with Many Paths. Once under cover, they turned back to assess the situation. 

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Many Paths tracked the flaming arrows still streaming into the Center Place. Her thoughts raced: Who was this enemy that attacked without warning? What had happened to the Veritas guards? Which pre-planned counter-attack should be mounted? Many Paths felt a hand upon her shoulder. It was Fleet of Foot. He pointed to a small herd of horses speeding up the hill on the other side. But…Many Paths stared. These horses had people astride them! For a moment it seemed impossible. Yet, here it was, clearly visible for a moment before the horses and their companions disappeared into the forest. The arrows stopped flying. People and horses running as one? It was all happening too fast for her to decide what to do. She glanced at Fleet of Foot and spoke in a low voice. “A double flanking counter-attack?” 

Fleet of Foot nodded and barked a few short “commands” which were not words but the whistles of birds. The Veritas now streamed out from cover with weapons drawn and bows drawn, ready to overwhelm their enemy. Yet, no such enemy appeared. Those Veritas with the youngest and keenest ears could hear the distant muffled hoofbeats of horses in the wooded hills but no target could be discerned. The arrows were burning out and had not caused any serious or widespread damage. 

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Many Paths quickly convened a war council. Shadow Walker quickly volunteered to lead a tracking party into the woods to determine the origin of this unseen enemy. Fleet of Foot and several other braves agreed to join including their visitors from the Nomads of the South. Many Paths knew that Tu-Swift would also volunteer but she judged that he was not quite ready for such a dangerous adventure. The arguments were forming on her lips but no such request came. She moved on to other matters at hand. 

She turned to Eagle Eyes. “I have trained wolves and you have trained hawks and eagles. Have you imagined to train horses as well?” 

“No, I mean, they are so large and fast and strong. How could one convince such an animal to serve a human? Yet, so too the eagle could easily fly away yet chooses to stay and befriend me. So, perhaps it is possible. I could try. I would have to think on that. It would take time. Much time. It is all happening too quickly.” 

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Many Paths nodded. “Indeed, it all happened too swiftly for me to….” Many Paths broke off her speech and scanned the larger crowd of Veritas who were repairing the feast, putting out small fires, and fetching weapons and provisions for the tracking party. She swallowed hard as panic began to dry her mouth so badly she found it hard to speak loudly. 

“Tu-Swift! TU-SWIFT!! Where is Tu-Swift?” Her council looked about them. Shadow Walker leapt on top of a small log pile and yelled, “Has anyone seen Tu-Swift?” The people paused in their tasks, looking about them. They muttered questions at each other and shook their heads. No-one had seen Tu-Swift since the feast had been interrupted. 

Many Paths breathed deeply to calm herself. The Veritas were looking to her and she needed to keep a cool head. She looked to She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives and their eyes locked. The old shaman shook her head imperceptibly. Many Paths understood her meaning — that Many Paths was now the leader and it was up to her to decide what to do. Many Paths nodded back. Again panic almost overtook her as she imagined Tu-Swift injured or dead. Into her mind, unbidden, the image of the death of her parents came to mind. She pushed all this aside and strode over to the table where she had last seen Tu-Swift, dreading to find his lifeless body under the table. 

———————————- 

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Tu-Swift at that moment was alive but already a fair distance away.

Mentally, Tu-Swift screamed: I can’t see! I can’t see!  but he was, in fact, unable to manage more than a muffled grumble. He felt the cloth, tight across his mouth and the dark cloth around his head. He could not imagine what was happening. He felt his body bouncing up and down. Perhaps he had fallen into the rapids, he thought, and the rocks and frothing water tossed his body about like a fluttering leaf. But he didn’t feel wet. Fighting to stay coherent, he tried to organize his thoughts: Inventory. Inventory. An image of Many Paths playing a game with him flashed into his mind. She had explained that, even in confusion, one could use various tricks to stay calm. One was to take inventory. What do I know and what can I sense? 

He began at the top. The back of his head pained him. He could hear. He could see as well, though not well. The world continued to bounce but it was cloth tight around his head that made it difficult to see. He heard pounding all around him. He smelled pine and dirt and horses. His wrists hurt and so did his ankles. He tried to move them but found them tightly bound. The pounding sound, he recognized. And people were talking, but not in the tongue of the Veritas. He tried to recall the snippets of other languages he had heard. This speech didn’t sound like Cupiditas, or the speech of the Southern Nomads nor yet of the Fierce Fighters of the North. 

What did he remember? There had been a race. He had raced Many Paths to the Center Place where they were about to have a feast. Had he won the race? He couldn’t recall. He had turned and run straight into a sapling. It must have knocked him out. No, that wasn’t a hard enough blow. The sapling had sprung him backwards. It had mainly hit his chest, not the back of his head which now throbbed with every bounce. Had he fallen backwards and hit his head? Maybe, but how would that make him tied up? And bouncing? Inventory. Inventory. Tu-Swift tried to sort it out, but nothing made sense and he drifted out of consciousness again. 

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————————————-

Many-Paths thought she had been fearing the worst: to see the lifeless body of her brother. But when she saw instead, the obvious signs that he had been dragged away, she found that, this was even worse than the worst. If her brother had died, of course, that was cause for grief. But no-one is brought back from the dead. Her journey would be a trail of tears, but it was a single path. Her only strategic choice for the tribe would be whether or not to pursue revenge for her own private motive. It would be easy, she knew, to slide from one issue to the other. She might hate the people who killed her brother and want them all dead, even though this might (or might not) be disastrous for the tribe. They didn’t really know enough about this enemy right now to decide the best course of action. But she could argue and support those who argued that this enemy was dangerous and deadly; that they needed to be weeded out now or they could keep striking like this over and over. There was certainly that possibility. But Many Paths knew that misleading the tribe in even the smallest degree would be the worst possible thing that a leader could do. She would be able, she knew, to fight and win the battle of that temptation. 

But now, Many Paths was faced with a far more painful path, and a far less certain one. She thought: What to do? What was best for Tu-Swift? What was best for everyone? Should they invade, negotiate, run. Determining the best course of action for her own selfish motives would be difficult and complex. Determining the best course of action for her tribe would also be difficult and complex. Trying to disentangle the two so that she could do what was best for the tribe would be more difficult still. She never once doubted whether this was the proper course of action, but she did doubt her ability to do all that. Perhaps she should relinquish leadership to another. She at least knew that she needed the counsel of She Who Saves Many Lives. 

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——————————————————————-

Many Paths turned to walk to the cabin of She Who Saves Many Lives and there she was and the elder shaman spoke immediately, “You will do the right thing, Many Paths. You will do the right thing. Listen to the heart of your heart and you will know. It is okay to share everything with others to get their input, of course. I know you to be a listener. Go and lead our people. Go.”

“What kind of a people would tear a child from their family?” Many Paths asked.

“Indeed,” said She Who Saves Many Lives, “that is the central question. What kind of a people would tear a child away from their family? And, what will we do about it? Now, Go and lead the people.”

—————————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon.

The Beginning of the Myths of the Veritas. 

Essays on Greed.

A Pattern Language for Collaboration. 

Our Choices Impact Evolution.

Three Part Series on the Pros and Cons of AI. 

Articles on the Uses of Stories and Storytelling. 

The Orange Man

At Least he’s Our Monster

The Ailing King of Agitate

An Open Source from Hell

The Impossible 

Myths of the Veritas: The Battle of the Middle Path

04 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, story, Veritas

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battle, cooperation, fiction, governance, greed, insight, leadership, life, myth, peace, politics, strategy, tactics, treason, truth, Veritas, war, writing

The Battle of the Middle Path. 

landscape photography of green hill under blue sky and white clouds during daytime

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As afternoon reached its warmest, the large main force of the Cupiditas reached the margin of the lands frequented by the Veritas. NUT-PI spied a knoll somewhat higher than the rest. He climbed atop this knoll and called his warriors to stand below and listen carefully as he spoke. 

“Behold, all Cupiditas, for you stand on the edge of victory! Soon, you will have a chance to fight bravely for all your people. Many of you will come home, not only as heroes, but as rich heroes, for you will have your share of the women and grain and gold of the Veritas. You will be glorified among our people. We have marked the path to take you into the very heart of the Veritas. ALT-R will lead you to the Center Place of the Veritas where you will meet up with more of our people as well as the Fierce and Formidable Warriors of the North and the Nomads of the Southern Dry Lands. I will stand atop this hill where I may better direct your efforts. Although this position is quite exposed and therefore more dangerous than being on the front lines, I do not care for I will be here and lead us to victory. Tonight we rest, but before dawn tomorrow, we attack!” 

ALT-R thought it strange that NUT-PI would not lead his warriors from the front of the pack but rather stay back on this large hill. He would not be in any danger at all. There were no Veritas around. And even so, an arrow shot up so far would be rather easy to dodge. And, although it was true that the knoll offered an excellent view in three directions, the battle itself would take place on the other side a rather large forest. NUT-PI would not be able to see any such battle. He could only hear reports from messengers. ALT-R would not question NUT-PI about any of this, he decided, because he knew NUT-PI to be a vain man who cared nothing for the truth and would literally kill one of his own who questioned him. Besides, ALT-R thought he might be able to turn NUT-PI’s style of leading at a distance to his own advantage. Though ALT-R was not a commander among the Cupiditas, they would be following his instructions on where to go and having gotten in the habit, once they reached the Center Place of the Veritas, the whole tribe might listen to his instructions on where to find treasure and how to divvy things up. 

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ALT-R was about to rest among a nice soft bed of moss that he knew grew in a small copse of trees nearby when one of the messengers of NUT-PI said that his presence was required by NUT-PI atop the hill. ALT-R knew he had no choice in the matter, but in case he did have any doubts, he was accompanied by four of NUT-PI’s guards. They ascended the hill and came to a small tent which had been pitched atop the knoll. In front, NUT-PI perched upon a small rock. He looked straight at ALT-R who had kowtowed as he had learned appropriate. “So, ALT-R, what do you think of my strategy to lead my force from this vantage point?” 

At this point, the guards drew back a distance they deemed respectful to NUT-PI but still close enough to function as guards with the spears at the ready to be thrown at — and through — ALT-R.

ALT-R bit his lip, unsure how to answer. “Sire, it is not for me to judge your decisions. My job is to show your warriors the ways through the guards of the Veritas, their traps, and the natural barriers so they may arrive near the Center Place unharmed, or at least, as little harmed as possible.” 

NUT-PI laughed. “So, you think my question a stupid one?”

ALT-R said, “Of course not! It’s a good question.”

NUT-PI’s voice changed to one of cold and steel, “Then answer it! I command you!” 

ALT-R began, “Well, the idea of being able to see the whole battle field before you is a good one. However, I am afraid that, if the battle goes as I imagine it will, you will not actually have a very good view from here. The Veritas are likely to engage us on the other side of that woods where there is a steep hill and then a large flat plain. Beyond that is a shallow river and beyond that is the Center Place of the Veritas, none of which can be seen from here.” Now ALT-R began to sweat even more. In his desire to show off his knowledge, he had perhaps said too much. 

NUT-PI laughed again, without any real mirth or warmth. “It’s more symbolic that anything else. Another reason I decided to stay back, between you and me, is that I want the men to gather glory for themselves, not me.”

ALT-R thought this very likely another bogus reason but aloud all he said was, “Indeed, Sire.”

NUT-PI winked at ALT-R. “I also have a bad blister on my heel. I don’t want to slow down the troops.” 

ALT-R suspected this might be part of the real reason, but he suspected that NUT-PI was a coward, pure and simple. Of course, to even hint at such would be to court, nay, guarantee, his own death so he tried to push these judgements out of his mind. 

NUT-PI’s voice now took on a happier tone. “I didn’t call you up here to get your opinion on my military strategy. I really want to tell you three things. First, do not fail in showing my people the way through to the Center Place. Second, do not imagine that you will become the leader of my people. I know you are the ambitious sort and it’s fine that you can be the slave-driver of the Veritas but if you try to vanquish me, you will die a horrible death. Third, when you come to the Center Place and capture the slaves, I want you to bring me the three most spirited of the Veritas women for my private amusement. I will personally torture them into submission. If you succeed in these three things, your life will prove most excellent. If you fail in any of these three tasks, your life will be short. But if you betray me in any way, your life will be much much longer than you will wish it to be. Now go and do as you are commanded.”

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The Veritas, meanwhile, discussed their own strategy. Their mood was euphoric for they now were buoyed by the thought that they had driven off both the Fierce and Formidable Fighters of the North and the Southern Nomads without really doing much battle at all! 

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives frowned. “It is good, my people, that we have made peace where it was possible, but it is too soon to celebrate. We still have battle ahead. Do not underestimate the Cupiditas. Though we outnumber them, they are still many and well-trained. And, they have ALT-R’s help.” 

She-of-Many-Paths brought out some Ishago bones and waved them in the air. “I am not so sure that we outnumber them. We have all been saying that we outnumber the Cupiditas, and that may be so. But I am seeing another possibility. You see how it is among us. We are all equal. We all live, at least partly, in the Center Place together. But now think of the Cupiditas. They are all about power, not truth. They do not think of each other as equals. They have a society that has few at the top and many below. On those few occasions when any of the Veritas have visited, they have gone to their Central Place — or rather what such visitors assumed was their Central Place — and not seen so many as we ourselves are.” Here she again waved the bones in her hand upon which were inscribed marks for the Cupiditas who had been seen. 

“But I am thinking that those among us and our ancestors who made these counting marks may not have counted accurately. There may be a less desirable place than we ever visited with many more Cupiditas than we have ever seen. We may only have seen some of the Cupiditas. Perhaps many more live in less desirable circumstances. For it seems the nature of people who live as the Cupiditas that they don’t want everyone to live in similar circumstances. Rather, the happiness of the greedy few is contingent on having a much larger number of people with little. This was the nature of the Orange Man that we revile in myth but whom the Cupiditas celebrate in song. Even the war garb of the Cupiditas, besides the blood red, is orange to honor the Orange Man. So, it strikes me as entirely possible that we will face a much larger force of Cupiditas. I could be wrong. But I might not be. Such persons as have nothing might be whipped into a killing frenzy by someone such as NUT-PI who will blame all the troubles of the Cupiditas on us.”

Eagle Eyes spoke next, “I see us as a circle or better as a web within a circle. But when I try to imagine the Cupiditas, this is the shape I see.” Using the back of her spear, she drew a triangle in the dirt. “Here is NUT-PI and here are his captains.” Here she pointed at the apex of the triangle. “And the top part of this — this is what our people have seen of the Cupiditas. But down here — this large area may be all the Cupiditas whom no-one has seen.” 

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She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives nodded her agreement. “This may be so. Or not. But we must be prepared for a hard battle. We cannot assume that we will greatly outnumber them when it could be that they greatly outnumber us.” 

Trunk of Tree added, “Though we have heard nothing like that from KAVA-NUT or POND MUD.”

Shadow Walker said, “True, though they might not even themselves know of such. These traitors are meant to teach the Cupiditas about us, but I do not think they are experts in the Cupiditas ways.” 

She-of-Many-Paths spoke again, “You see how it is with many of our distant cousins in the forests. They grow and prosper by roots but also by fruits and seeds. So too must it be with us. We need numerous plans for numerous possibilities. Perhaps we will be lucky a third time and this battle will also prove easy, but it may also prove hard and for that we must be prepared. We should even have a way to warn the whole of us if the fierce and formidable of the north or the Sabra as they call themselves were to rejoin the battle.”  

And so it was that many possible contingency plans were outlined and such were communicated throughout the Veritas. Guards were rotated throughout the night. Each warrior, man or woman, attempted to get what rest they could and dreamed whatever dreams they might. Each warrior, man or woman, knew that they would be fighting on the morrow and that such a day as that could be their last on this green earth, the last on which to feel a loving touch or laugh at the antics of a child. They knew they would be fighting for their life but also for the life of the tribe, the Veritas, the way of the truth, and what happened would not only echo through their own life but also the lives of people yet unborn. Moreover, since greedy people care not for anything but themselves, the skill and intelligence of the Veritas on the morrow would also impact the tree of life itself, at least in this part of the world that they knew and loved. 

nature forest trees park

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As the still-sunken sun began to paint the palest pink strokes upon the clouds, the Cupiditas awoke and began their relentless march, following ALT-R and the trees marked with the rat-god AGAM upon their trunks. The Cupiditas were numerous indeed. As had been foreseen by She-of-Many-Paths, the Veritas had only ever visited the relatively rich main camp of the Cupiditas. In many scattered camps on the border of the northern wastes, a much greater number of Cupiditas eked out a living as best they could. All the males beyond the age of 10 winters had been conscripted to join the throng. They had not been made false promises of riches as had the warrior class. NUT-PI had told the lesser minions that they had no choice if they wished to see their loved ones alive. He had also been careful to paint a picture of the Veritas as monster criminals who, if left unchecked, would come and destroy all the camps of the Cupiditas just as they “always did.” NUT-PI concocted quite a gruesome tale about how the Veritas were a bloodthirsty lot and especially like to cut the arms and necks of Cupiditas women and children and suck out their blood until they died. 

Though numerous, these second-class Cupiditas were not nearly so well-trained as the warriors in the central camp. They were eager to get to kill a Veritas or two and return to their own villages. They began advancing in a broad line without regard to the path ALT-R was taking. Many followed the markings on the true path to the Center Camp of the Veritas, but many others followed false trails into brambles or box canyons. ALT-R began seeing Cupiditas beside him both north and south and some even were ahead of him. He spoke loudly. 

“Listen! Follow me! There are also false trails. Keep in narrow file through the woods! On the other side we may gather atop a hill for a mighty charge down the hill onto the plain!” At these words, two or three of the Cupiditas drew near him to follow in his footsteps. The vast majority looked over at ALT-R, stopped for a few moments with a puzzled look, and then resumed fanning out into the forest. ALT-R was supposed to lead the Cupiditas but had no real title among them. More importantly, he was far from facile with their language. ALT-R grew exasperated and began shouting his instructions. To the Cupiditas, this made his speech all the more unintelligible and most ignored him. He shouted more loudly, “FOLLOW the true path, not the false ones, you …” But here ALT-R broke off from shouting. He didn’t know the Cupiditas word for “stupid” and, he realized his words were having no effect. He retraced his steps till he came upon a Cupiditas dressed and face-painted as one of the captains in authority. Slowly, he used gestures and made the man, named OR-man-AA realize that everyone was supposed to be following his lead. He saw that the lower class Cupiditas were getting too far ahead. OR-man-AA didn’t really see this as a problem. On the other hand, he did know that NUT-PI had ordered everyone to follow ALT-R through the woods so he shouted this to his nearby lieutenants who in turn made cursory efforts to organize the troops. Had NUT-PI been close by, their efforts would have been more diligent, but as it was, they saw little point. 

Indeed, the false paths led only a few of the scattered throng of Cupiditas to their death and a few more to injury. By dawn, a huge number of Cupiditas milled about the far edge of the forest in the deep shade waiting for the order to attack. About fifty yards before them, a long steep hill led down to a large flat plain where they could see a small force of Veritas soldiers raising their spears and shouting at them. Beyond, they could see the stream that the three traitors had foretold, and just beyond that the smoke of the morning fires of the Veritas Central Place. Seeing that they vastly outnumbered the small band of Veritas visible on the plain below, OR-man-AA shouted at them to ready their weapons and charge. They sprinted the fifty yards to the edge of the long hill and began sprinting down it. 

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ALT-R had hoped to lead this charge but instead, being only of average speed, he found himself in the middle of it. There were so many Cupiditas all about him that he found it difficult to see much more than Cupiditas running beside him, behind him and in front of him. As he came to the edge of the hill, his view of the downslope and the plain below opened up suddenly. The Cupiditas warriors were slipping and sliding and falling all around him. He found it incredibly difficult to keep his footing as he ran. He usually walked carefully down this slope but had never slipped or fallen. The slope seemed littered with round rocks everywhere. Cupiditas warriors were tripping and falling everywhere. A few were nicked by the poison tipped weapons of the captains and a few were trampled. A few suffered broken ankles. Most simply fell a few times, got back up and continued their headlong descent. Before them, ALT-R could see that the Veritas were in full retreat rushing back to their Center Place. About halfway down the hill, ALT-R noticed that the bottom of the hill looked somehow different than he remembered it. “TRAPS!” he shouted in his native Veritas tongue. Already, the fastest among the Cupiditas were falling through the carefully camouflaged coverings. “TRAPS!” he shouted again and began trying to angle off to the left so as to avoid the traps. None among the Cupiditas heeded his words, which had been uttered in Veritas, but some began to see that the bottom of the hill was indeed a trap. Just as ALT-R had tried to do, many began to try to veer away from the traps but some veered left and some veered right so that many simply impeded each other. ALT-R managed to barely avoid falling into one of these pits himself and as he glanced over his right shoulder he could see that the bottom of the traps had upward pointing sharpened bamboo poles which had impaled many of the Cupiditas. He ran still farther left into a thick copse of birch trees. He had to get out of this battle and take a moment to think. Think, he commanded himself. 

The first thought that occurred to him was that victory was now far from certain. His second thought was that NUT-PI would likely discover that ALT-R had failed at his main job of leading the Cupiditas troops safely into the Center Place of the Veritas. If NUT-PI thought this was incompetence, he would die quickly. If NUT-PI thought it treachery, a more likely outcome, he had promised ALT-R a long, slow torturous death. ALT-R snuck carefully to the edge of the copse. He could see the small band of Veritas warriors had retreated to the Center Place. There was no sign of the other two forces that were supposed to converge on the battlefield. Meanwhile, the Cupiditas continued to pour down the hill. They seemed to be more able to avoid falling and tripping now and many were veering to left or right rather than straight ahead. The number falling into the pit seemed far fewer and some of those who did were running atop the piled bodies of their countrymen. 

Once the nomads from the south and the fierce and formidable warriors of the north showed up, the Veritas would be overwhelmed. If ALT-R were able to accomplish his mission of capturing some spirited women for NUT-PI, he might still escape with his life. He wondered whether perhaps he should try to sneak into the Center Place before the main force but dismissed the idea as too dangerous. He concluded that he would observe from this location and wait for all three armies to converge. Then, there would be general chaos and he would have his best chance for capturing three women. Of course, there would also be more competition. ALT-R had been so preoccupied with trying to ensure that he successfully led the Cupiditas to the Center Place that he had only felt vaguely uncomfortable about fetching three Veritas women for NUT-PI. But now that he did have time, he realized that the third condition would be extremely difficult to achieve. ALT-R knew that he was not held in high esteem by the Cupiditas. One Arrow. He had no official position with the Cupiditas. Two Arrows. Any of the Veritas who might meet him would try to kill him on sight. Three Arrows. In fact, how could he capture three spirited women with no help from anyone? NUT-PI had intentionally given him a task that he would fail at! But why would he do that? ALT-R’s mind was racing ahead and he began to concentrate so hard that the chaos of the battle in front of him seemed no more consequential than clouds passing in the sky. He realized that NUT-PI not only didn’t trust him; he shouldn’t trust him because, after all, he was a traitor! No-one trusts me, he realized, perhaps for the first time, nor should they!

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“THWANGGGGG!” ALT-R’s attention snapped back to current circumstances in a flash thanks to an arrow that embedded itself in the white-barked birch trunk only a few inches from his head. He peered out into the field and saw Cupiditas running in many directions but mainly toward the shallow creek while the Veritas warriors had seemed to retreat. But there were no fortifications. ALT-R couldn’t imagine why the Veritas warriors chose that unfortified position. But just then another arrow whacked into the tree near ALT-R’s kneecap. Where the hell were these arrows coming from? Not from the Veritas who had gone to guard the Center Place. ALT-R knew that he would have to join the fray to have any chance of gaining personally from this war. But then again, it would be risky to join in the fray when the outcome was still uncertain. He thought: What the hell is delaying the nomads of the south? Did POND MUD screw them up somehow? And, for that matter, why do I only see the blue & green of Veritas and the orange & red of the Cupiditas? Where is KAVA-NUT? And where the hell are the arrows coming from? 

As ALT-R looked out, he realized finally that there must have been many more Veritas in these woods on both sides of the plain. They were targeting the brightly colored clothes of the Cupiditas. The Cupiditas preferred clubs, knives, and spears. However, the fraction who survived the downhill and traps had been focused on trying to attack the Center Place and it seemed to take a long time for them to realize that they were being attacked on both sides. Eventually, the still considerable throng somehow came to the realization that moving back and forth between the two rows and trees trying to flush the Veritas out was a losing proposition. Maybe this was the time to rejoin the fray. As the Cupiditas began to listen to their remaining captains, they began regrouping in a throng next to the near side of the river. The warriors on the outside deployed their shields. The hail of arrows had stopped, at least temporarily. ALT-R ran to the front of the group gesturing and shouting,  “FOLLOW ME!” 

Compared with the warriors of the Cupiditas, ALT-R’s body was much more rested and he was more lightly armed and armored. He was the first to reach the stream. ALT-R thought this dramatic move might just earn him enough respect to at least share in the bounty. His plan was to stop on the other side until a large contingent of Cupiditas could be there. He planned to pretend to lead the charge and direct people while slowly working has way back toward and then back across the river. An odd sense of deja vu overcame ALT-R as he splashed through the river toward the Center Place. Yet, he also had a sense of foreboding. Something was not right. Why was the river so narrow and shallow? Why were the Veritas being so stupid? They could easily be overwhelmed here. Just as he reached the far side, a loud rumbling, crashing noise like bubbling thunder began. He turned to see the throng of Cupiditas warriors wading across the river. They sprinted as best they could when they stopped as though suddenly stupefied. As one, they turned their heads upstream to see a wall of water heading their way. Suddenly, they were gone. ALT-R found himself alone with the Veritas warriors who were advancing on him with spears pointed toward him. 

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Photo by Jesse Zheng on Pexels.com

On the other side of the river, which had magically grown to a torrent, a few scattered Cupiditas warriors were running back toward the steep hill. They now avoided the traps, but climbing back up the hill proved difficult. Veritas archers deployed from the woods on both sides and began shooting arrows toward the fleeing warriors. In their desperate attempts to clamber back up the steep slope, many pushed or pulled on their compatriots. This ploy tended to make both soldiers slide farther back down the slope, only to become easier targets for the Veritas archers. Some few managed to escape to the relative safety of the hilltop and slid into the shadows of the forest. ALT-R saw howling wolves pursue them. 

Among these Cupiditas survivors, only one remained faithful enough to NUT-PI to wend his way through the forests and find his way back to the hilltop where NUT-PI waited with a dozen heavily armed guards. The man’s name was UR-yapl-NA who had suffered a severely sprained ankle but was otherwise unharmed. NUT-PI hailed him and demanded that he ascend the knoll and report on progress. After struggling up the knoll, he knelt before NUT-PI and recounted as best he could the slippery hill, the archers, and the broad shallow stream that magically became a raging torrent that had swept away most of his remaining soldiers. Only ALT-R had arrived safely on the other side. When NUT-PI questioned him about the fierce and formidable warriors of the North and the nomads of the South, UR-yapl-NA answered that he had seen no such people on the battlefield. 

NUT-PI sat silently for a long while and then gestured for his guards to behead the hapless messenger. NUT-PI then ordered his guards to gather up their supplies and they headed back to their own village. His sore heel no longer bothered him. He told the guards that it was their duty to now head back and protect their village. He walked in silence, bent on constructing a story filled with Cupiditas strength and courage and cunning that was unfortunately overcome through Veritas treachery and magic. In this narrative, he himself would be the main hero and all that stood between safety and an all-out decimation by marauding Veritas who would wipe out or enslave every last man, woman, and child among the Cupiditas. He became so obsessed with perfecting his story and mentally rehearsing it, that the failed to notice that his guards fell back ten then twenty paces and began whispering amongst themselves. 

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Meanwhile, back at the Center Place, ALT-R had surrendered himself to the Veritas warriors who had surrounded him in the Center Place. He had been stripped to search for hidden weapons and then thrown into a small cell in a heavily guarded stockade, not far from KAVA-NUT and POND MUD though ALT-R did not yet know this. When ALT-R had convinced himself that there was no possible escape from his prison cell, he sat on the hard earthen floor with his back against the log wall upon which sunlight provided some slight warmth. Over the next few hours, by overhearing shreds of random conversations of Veritas folk, he learned that the Cupiditas had been completely defeated; that POND MUD and KAVA-NUT had both been captured; that the promised help from the fierce and formidable foes of the North had never come. Nor had the nomads of the South joined in the fray. He wondered how he could get a message to KAVA-NUT and POND MUD and how they might escape. Would POND MUD and KAVA-NUT trust him? He thought not. In fact, he realized, no-one on this earth trusted him. No-one. He knew that he was no longer a welcome part of the great and varied people of the Veritas. He strongly suspected that he would not be welcome among the Cupiditas either, should any yet survive. They would blame him for leading them to their death and probably imagine he had done so on purpose. That was almost certainly what NUT-PI would think.

“No-one trusts a traitor.” He spoke these words aloud though he had not meant to. ALT-R cursed himself and beat the hard dirt with his fists. He had lived and schemed among the Cupiditas for only a short time but he realized that he hated being in league with them. Their way of putting greed and power over truth and cooperation was stupid. He realized that if everyone lied and manipulated the way he himself had done, the results were always doomed in the long run. If everyone were like ALT-R, there would be no camps. There would be no baskets, no learning, no hunting parties. We would all be beasts. We will be wolves without a pack, horses without a herd, bees without a hive. Truth builds us up together and lies tear us apart. How had he failed to see this, he wondered. 

He lay exhausted on the hard dirt floor at last and began to drift off to sleep. In the distance, he heard the happy chanting, singing, and dancing feet of the Veritas. He could not make out the words but he nonetheless felt a strange comfort in the sound of his own language being sung so tunefully. And though the warmth of the flames of the central fire flicked far from his cell, he imagined the flames and thought of their warmth. He remembered staring into those flames as a youngster as he found some temporary peace in this, the Center Place of his dreams. 

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Magic Portal to Other Worlds 

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Essays on America: Wednesday

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Happy Talk Lies

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

An Open Sore from Hell

Somewhere a Bird Cries

My Cousin Bobby

Labelism

You Bet Your Life

The Orange Man

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Mango Mussolini

 

Myths of the Veritas: The Third Ring of Empathy.

23 Friday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, story, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

cooperation, emotional intelligence, empathy, fiction, hubris, humility, leadership, learning, life, love, myth, power, teaching, truth, writing

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When the full moon rose after the hottest days of summer had passed, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives summoned the Eight-Who-Feel-Another’s-Hunger to a great council fire at their customary places. “You have served your tribe well and each of you has grown even since the first such trial. A new challenge awaits you. At your place, you will find a small piece of deerskin and upon that deerskin the picture of an animal. That animal you will observe, copy, learn from, speak too, listen too, come to love as one of your very own family. I want all those who live near you to understand your tasks as well so that they may not impede your study. 

“The full moon is here. There shall be another. And another. But on the third full moon, we will reconvene our council fire. You shall indeed share your knowledge gained from this challenge with all the tribe. And, then, I will question you separately to determine who shall win the Third Ring of Empathy and be so invited to the next trial.” The entire council including the Eight-Who-Feel-Another’s-Hunger left as well, all save Pond Mud, who politely asked the favor of a question. 

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“Oh, She-Who-Saves-Many, I fear that though my muscles may be strongest among my peers, my powers of perception are yet weak, for I looked upon this deerskin and it appears that it may be an elk, that it may be a deer, it may be bison, but it most looks to me like…like an ant.”

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives laughed, “It is not your perception, my young friend; it is my lack of artistic skill, though you are indeed correct. It is an ant. Now, go forth and study her for three moons.” 

“But, they have nothing to teach; they have no power; they have no thinking; they are teeny insignificant things that are simply a pest.”

“My decision is final, Pond Mud. I only sought to aid you in removing your uncertainty. If you become Shaman, you may devise tests as you see fit.”

Pond Mud bit his lip and turned away though a slight shake of the head did not go unnoticed. 

The Shaman therefore spoke once more: “You are judging the ant, though you have not studied the ant. You know almost nothing about them. Spend three moons watching and learning and then we will see whether I have given you something unworthy of study.” 

So it was that the Eight-Who-Can-Feel-Another’s-Hunger began their various studies of Ant, Eagle, Possum, Tiger, Snake, Squirrel, Horse, and Wolf. On the moonrise of the next month, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives bestowed on each of the eight a mask suited for the animal that they were studying. She suggested that they may want to spend some time each day trying to imagine what life was like through the skin, nose, ears, and eyes of that creature and the using the mask might help in this endeavor. 

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So it was that on the third full moon, each of the eight was ready to give an account of what they had learned before the entire tribe. And, it was so. 

{Translator’s Note}: The actual legend is filled with minutia for every single one of the eight animals. It’s not surprising that such detail would be included for these specific details about each of these other creatures could spell the difference between life and death for the student or possibly even the entire Veritas people. They took the time to find out about the world and pass on every detail they could to their offspring. Education was a serious business that everyone respected as crucial to their very survival. We live in a different world, however, and therefore I am only translating the first and most obvious thing or two about each animal. 

First to speak was Alt-R who spoke of some of the cleverness of the opossum such as keeping their unprotected ones close by, of hunting at night when they had less worry about those who might harm them, although on balance, they seemed quite stupid, concluded Alt-R. 

Next to speak was She-of-Many-Paths. She spoke with such passion and in such vivid detail that the children, and the youth, and the married, and the old of the tribe all listened in fascination and learned much about Wolf. Not just the Shaman but all could feel that indeed, she had come to love the wolves. She spoke of they way they hunted together and took turns chasing down prey until that prey was exhausted. She spoke of their social order and how they communicated and how they kept the peace among themselves. “And,” she concluded, “I’m just getting started! There is so much more to learn!” 

Eyes-of-Eagle had been assigned the Eagle. She spoke of how the eagle changed it very shape according to the task at hand. 

“When an Eagle wished to soar on the winds it spread its wings as far as possible and flattened its chest and tailfeathers. When it spotted prey below, after a few strong thrusts of its wings, it folded them tightly and made itself nearly into a teardrop. It fell like a rock, only shooting out its wings at the very last possible moment to arrest its fall and save its life and at the same time twisting just so onto the back of rabbit or squirrel or mouse!” This much was known by the adults of the tribe, but Eyes-of-Eagle had many more  details to share on the subject. It was clear to all in the council that she had been aptly named. 

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Shade-Walker spoke next of his observations of snakes. Like he himself, he had noted, the activity of a snake is much determined by the heat of the sun. But Shade-Walker then said, quite unexpectedly, that he believed that snakes could feel the heat of their prey just as we can feel the heat of a fire or the heat of another’s skin if it’s quite close. Shade-Walker noted that a snake too can change its shape. Some can unhinge their jaw and some are able to swallow their prey whole because they can make that change. 

Initiates also spoke of their many observations of Tiger, Squirrel, and Horse. 

Last to speak was Pond Mud. He still viewed ants as unworthy of study because they were weak enough to be crushed in his fingertips. However, he had noticed a kind of war between black ants and red ants. 

“Somehow, an anteater became aware and filled his belly on the fighting ants. Normally, ants are keen to sense a nearby enemy, but in the heat of battle, they didn’t seem to see the anteater at all! He seemed the only beneficiary of the ant war.” 

Most of the adults in the council were quite convinced that two more would-be inheritors of Shaman-ship would be dropped from consideration and that these would almost certainly be POND MUD and ALT-R. Sadly, they seemed not to understand the value of creature so different from themselves. 

Indeed, it was so ordered and came to pass. 

The next day, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives summoned Alt-R to see her. “I have a game for you to try your luck at. Do you accept this challenge?”

“Is this part of the test? Everyone seems to think I lost. Is this a chance to redeem myself?”

“Do you accept this challenge?” 

Alt-R said, “Yes, I accept. What am I to do?”

“I have three cups. You choose one of the three. You will have 100 chances to guess and we will see how many acorns you acquire,” explained She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives.   

So, the game began, and every time Alt-R thought he had at last figured out the rule, he proved wrong on the next guess or the one after that. At long last, the 100 chances had all been used up. Alt-R had managed to obtain 11 acorns and felt very frustrated. Alt-R searched the face of She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives but saw no hint of the rule. 

“Has anyone figured out your rule? Has anyone done better?” asked Alt-R as politely as he could in his state of frustration.

“Yes, indeed, I’m must say, that someone did indeed do much better. In particular, one of my friends was able to gather 34.” 

Alt-R was taken aback, but he was still curious. “But then no-one has gotten all 100? No-one has really figured out the rule?” 

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives cocked her head to the side and her endless brown eyes looked into the heart of Alt-R. “Who said there was a rule?” 

“Who…? I mean, there has to be a rule, right? How did you know how to switch the acorn each time and mostly fool me?”

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives lowered her voice and looked down. “Who said there was an acorn every time?” 

“But…! You said…I don’t understand? How did someone gather 34 then? Who was this one who outguessed me three to one?”

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives looked at him long and hard watching him go through the possibilities in his head. Some he gave voice to. Was it this young man? Was it this young woman? Was it this elder? At last, he ran out of likely possibilities.

“None of those, Alt-R, it was the very creature I asked you to study. The possum.” 

“WHAT?” shouted Alt-R, against all protocol. “I was outsmarted by a possum? That’s impossible!”

“Not at all impossible, Alt-R. It happened. The reason is quite simple. You looked at this as a test of how smart you were or how much empathy you had. You assumed there was one acorn per trial. You assumed that there was a rule. And then you spent all your time trying to determine the rule. What did possum do?”

Alt-R frowned, “What did possum do? How could I possibly know?”

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“You couldn’t. Because you didn’t follow my advice and learn to know possum and how he felt about things, what he smelled about things, what he saw, how he loved, and feared, and died.”

Alt-R hung his head. This had not really been a test. This had been another teaching – a teaching that taught him that he should have followed the first teaching. “You are right, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, but I still don’t see how possum could have done better than I did.”

The Shaman explained, “You came in here and made assumptions. You were trying to find the acorn each time assuming that there was one. You were trying to figure out the rule. About one third of the time, I put an acorn in a cup. When I did have an acorn, it was always in the one left-most cup. After two acorns from the left cup, the possum always chose the left cup, most often being wrong but 1/3 of the time being right. You came in hungry for rules and assumptions. The possum came in hungry for acorns.” 

“Thank you, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives.”

“Please return tomorrow night, Alt-R, for I have one further lesson.”

The next morning, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives summoned Pond Mud, for Pond Mud, like Alt-R, had another few lessons to learn. 

“Come, Pond Mud, I have a simple task for you. You are one of the strongest young men in the village. Is that not so?”

“Well, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, I do not know but I have overheard some say that, yes.”

“So, Pond Mud, you value physical strength. Is that so?”

“Yes, indeed, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives! That is why the ant…well, we will not speak of that.  Anyway, yes, I am strong and I value physical strength.” 

“Good, Pond Mud, then you will have no trouble with this small task. I would like you push over that old cabin. I wish to build a new one.” 

“Well, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, I am strong but … I mean the cabin is well-built…it is meant to withstand snow and wind and you want me to try to push it down?” queried Pond Mud. 

“No, I want you to actually push it down, not try to push it down. Proceed.” 

Pond Mud walked over to the cabin and walked around it looking for a possible flaw or weak point but found nothing. He braced himself and pushed with both hands but nothing moved. He turned his shoulder to the edge and pushed but nothing moved. He lay on his back and pushed with his legs but that slid him backwards. He found two giant boulders and rolled them near the cabin and used the boulders to brace himself and pushed with both legs. He could not budge the cabin. He looked at the boulders and began to hatch an elaborate plan to smash the cabin with the boulders. 

“Pond Mud, you failed to push over the cabin. Please follow me. I want to show you a larger, stronger cabin that someone did push over. It is near. Follow.”

They soon came to a small clearing where the collapsed remains of a large cabin lay scattered about. “Pond Mud, what would you say regarding the strength of the creature who pushed this cabin down?”

“Gigantic. Perhaps a great cave bear. Or perhaps a bison? But it’s in the woods. A giant moose perhaps?”

“Pond Mud, look closely at that log and tell me what you see.” 

Pond Mud strode quickly to the indicated spot. “It’s just a log. I mean it’s filled with … it’s filled with … carpenter ants. It’s filled with carpenter ants.” 

“I see you studied the ants enough at least to recognize one when you see one. Let us return now to my cabin because your friend Alt-R is about to appear.”

They strode in silence back to the cabin of She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives. Indeed, Alt-R had just arrived. 

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives looked at each of them and said quietly, “I am sure by now you both realize that you will not be getting the Third Ring of Empathy. However, I am giving you each two other gifts. And each such gift, I can assure you, is worth far more than a ring with a pretty stone affixed.”

“The first gift is that you now realize not to dismiss a human or any creature because it seems they are not so smart nor so strong as you. And, now that you understand this, you may choose to become better and better at seeing things through another’s eyes. And, if you so choose, you will have a much better life and help those around you to also have a much better life. If you so choose, you can instead ignore this lesson and disdain those who are not like you. It’s your choice.”

“But if I learn the lesson, then why cannot I not be yet in contention to be your replacement?”  wondered Pond Mud & Alt-R aloud and almost in unison.

“Because,” said the Shaman, “it was not your first instinct to do so. Under stress or duress, you will be prone to revert to your first instinct and stressful situations are precisely such times that your empathy is most needed. Over time, over many wanderings of the stars back to their homes, your first instinct will change and you will be just as able to see through the eyes of another as any of the initiates. But if I die tomorrow, it would not be well for you or for the tribe or even for all the other creatures that share this world with the Veritas.”

The silence grew at first and the crickets decided it was their turn to talk. And so it was. But after a time, Pond Mud spoke again.

“What was then the second gift?” asked Pond Mud. 

“The second gift is that now you know that you are not always the best at everything though you, Alt-R are well the smartest among all the Veritas. And that knowledge that you are not the most able at everything can save you an ocean of pain if you choose to keep learning from those around you who know things you do not or those who are able to perceive things you cannot. And you, Pond Mud, though you are strong, you are not therefore to demand special privilege because of it. To the sun and the moon and the mountain, your strength is as little as the strength of the ants seems to you. Keep about you the humility that befits being strongest.” 

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Alt-R spoke then, “Thank you, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives. It is well. And, I take your teaching as my learning kept close to heart. I will choose to follow the path of the greater wisdom.” 

Pond Mud spoke next, saying, “Thank you,” She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives. I too shall now look at such strength as I may sometimes have as a treasure not for myself alone but for all of the Veritas. 

{Translator’s Note}: The reader may well wonder why so much of this myth revolves around the two who lost the contest rather than those who won. This focus on continually trying to teach the entire tribe to learn from failures rather than simply be shamed by it, is typical of the Veritas. The Veritas, insofar as I can tell from such a distance in time, space, and culture, not only cared for the lessons of those who won the contest, but also in those who lost the contest, for among the Veritas, every leaf on the tree got sustenance from the rest of the tree and provided loving sustenance from the sun itself to the rest of the tree. 

———————————————————-

Magic Portal to Four Completely Different Universes

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

All That Glitters is not Gold

The Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Orange Man

Pattern Language Summary

Plans for US; some GRUesome

At Least He’s Our Monster

An Open Sore from Hell

Somewhere a Bird Cries

We Won the War! We Won the War! 

Cancer Always Loses in the End

The First Ring of Empathy

The Second Ring of Empathy

  

Myths of the Veritas: The Second Ring of Empathy. 

22 Thursday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, psychology, story, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

#compassion, #ethics, #leadership, #management, Bohm Dialogue, collaboration, competition, cooperation, empathy, fiction, learning, life, myth, politics, trial, truth, Veritas, writing

Myths of the Veritas: The Second Ring of Empathy. 

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[My photo of masks created by Sarah Morgan].

“She Who Saves Many Lives” began the very next dawn to craft ten of The Second Ring of Empathy. This she fashioned from bronze as well but each ring sported a small but fiery opal. Each was beautiful and ever-changing yet each was different from each of its kin. 

After caressing the final touches on the first such ring, she summoned that one of “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others” who was known among the Veritas as “She of Many Paths.” She had been named this because of her penchant for trying many paths before settling on the way to take. 

The instructions to this first such were to immediately begin fasting. On the dawn of the fourth day, “She of Many Paths” was instructed to travel to the twisted oak near the waterfall that sings and to sit quietly by the dark pool at the bottom of the falls and notice all that she saw. When the sun was high she was to return to “She Who Saves Many Lives” and tell all that he had observed. And, it was so. And so she did.

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{Translator’s Note}: It isn’t said in this part of the legend that the initiates were explicitly told to be silent, but those familiar with the Veritas will see that such secrecy was indeed implicitly assumed. Naturally, the young Veritas were sorely tempted to share their experiences with each other. However, they most probably did not. If they did, the narrative below makes it clear that any such sharing was well disguised. 

“She Who Saves Many Lives” had not been idle. While “She of Many Paths” had been fasting and observing, the shaman had been crafting another opal ring set in bronze. After “She of Many Paths” shared her observations, “She Who Saves Many Lives” summoned another of “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others.” The girl was called “Eyes of Eagle” for her superior eyesight. “She Who Saves Many Lives” told “Eyes of Eagle” that she was to drink nothing and eat nothing for the whole next day. When the dawn of the next day came, she was to travel to the twisted oak, rest, reflect, and observe. When the sun was high, she was to return to “She Who Saves Many Lives” and tell all that she had observed. And, it was so. And so she did. 

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From the time of the crescent moon to the first quarter, no more were called from among “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others.” It happened then, that a day became hotter than any could remember. No-one wanted to do anything besides sleep and swim. At noon, “She Who Saves Many Lives” summoned another of “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others.” He was called by the Veritas “Shade Walker” for his definite preference to stalk, walk, and sit in the shade. “She Who Saves Many Lives” instructed “Shade Walker” to trek the journey to the twisted oak; to sit by the dark pool (but not partake of its refreshing waters); instead to observe and reflect and then relate it all back to “She Who Saves Many Lives.” And, it was so. And so he did. 

{Translator’s Note}: In the recounting of the next part of the narrative, I have slightly shortened the repetitive structure of the original since the modern reader is much more impatient than were the Veritas.

One by one, “She Who Saves Many Lives” called each of the remaining from among “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of the Others” and gave them a task. Each such task, “She Who Saves Many Lives” constructed to be especially apt for that particular person. Each such task was different. Each such task was designed quite deliberately to put each particular person in a different frame of mind. Just as the first three had been hungry, thirsty and unbearably hot, so too were the successive candidates from “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others” variously exhausted from physical labor, desirously aroused by tales, angry, fearful, over-filled with food, in pain, and, finally, in a happy and hilarious mood. “She Who Saves Many Lives” knew well that each person would see, smell, hear, feel, and recall different things because of these different states of mind. And, as she heard their various recountings, her judgment on this was confirmed. 

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On the day when Winter and Summer balance each to each and Summer promises to give way to Winter, since all had now accomplished their tasks, “She Who Saves Many Lives” invited all them to a council fire. They were now asked to dialogue about their observations of the deep pool, the spraying cataract, the twisted oak and the nearby surrounds. “She Who Saves Many Lives” did not speak but listened carefully to all that was said.

{Translator’s Note}: Here the word “dialogue” is used to convey a process much like Bohm Dialogue. The English word “dialogue” is often erroneously thought to connote a two-sided debate because of the apparent Latin root “di” meaning “two.” However, the English word “dialog” actually comes from the Greek roots, “dia” meaning “through” and “logos” meaning “meaning.” A dialogue is not properly a debate with two sides. Rather it refers to a process of developing meaning through the processes of the group: recounting experiences, listening respectfully, and reflecting upon what was said. No-one “wins” and on-one “loses.” It is much like group problem solving except that there is no specified problem to solve. More on Bohm Dialogue can be found here. Again, with a nod to the great impatience of the modern people, I have taken the liberty to summarize much of what was actually related.

“She of Many Paths” spoke first of the many frogs, rabbits, and insects she had seen by the dark pool. She spoke of how tasty they would be and what manner one could cook frog, rabbit, and dragonfly but she had been instructed only to observe and thus had not eaten any though she was quite hungry. She also observed how frogs lay just beneath the surface of the water jutting their quick tongues out to capture fly or mosquito. She had also observed rabbits eating the large ripe blackberries she would have rather had for herself. 

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“Eyes of Eagle” said she had not noticed any rabbits at all though she had seen a few dragonflies skimming the water eating mosquitos. There may also have been frogs but mainly, she had noticed that the water falling over the cataract fell mainly into the deep pool but many drops also hit upon the rocks at the sides of the waterfall and that such drops splattered high into the air. At some times of the day, these made rainbows. Several times, wonderful cool breezes wafted mist onto her thirsty tongue. 

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“Shade Walker” had also noticed such lucky sprays. He recounted that when he first arrived beside the deep pool, he could think of little else than how wonderful it would be to dive into the depths of that cooling pool. Five fish jumped into the air from the pool and then dove back in. “Shade Walker” had imagined five times that he had been such a lucky fish. He had thought he might go mad with the heat and began silently cursing his ancestors for ever leaving the water. As the sun continued its sky journey however, he noticed the shadow of the twisted oak approaching him. Soon, his knees and feet were in the cool shade of the twisted oak. Soon, his torso and finally his face and head were also in shade. Still the water splattered off the rocks making a cooling mist. When the sun was half-way between its high point and sunset, a cool breeze flitted through the glade. 

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Photo by Fabio Partenheimer on Pexels.com

So in turn, did each of “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others” recount to the others their observations. Each of “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others” listened respectfully. Occasionally, one would make a brief comment. “She Who Saves Many Lives” sat in silence, neither speaking word, nor gesture, nor grin nor grimace.

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Now it came to pass that each of the ten sat silently reflecting a long while on the experiences of the others. At last, “Shade Walker” spoke: “It seems that perhaps the same place seems quite different depending on whether it was day or night.” All nodded. 

“Eyes of Eagles” spoke next. “As well, the hungry see food; the thirsty see water; the hot, see shade; the fearful hear enemies; the exhausted see little but ways to rest.

The one known as “Bent Finger” claimed that his observations had been the best and encompassed the whole of what everyone else had seen. 

“She of Many Paths” asked whether he had noticed dragonflies catching mosquitos or rabbits eating blackberries. 

“Bent Finger” scoffed, “I meant important things. I saw all the important things.” 

“She of Many Paths” then proceeded to tell a story about her own experiences the point of which was that it is sometimes difficult to know at the time what is an important observation.

“Many Muscles” opined that he had had the most difficult task for “She Who Saves Many Lives” had sent him exhausted from three day’s worth of hard labor to sit and observe. “In such a state, it is very difficult to observe anything.” 

“She of Many Paths” observed that she had probably never been so exhausted as “Many Muscles” had been and therefore it would be difficult for her to know exactly how “Many Muscles” had been feeling just as it would be difficult for someone without three days hunger to know just how she had felt. 

“That’s my point exactly!” added “Bent-Finger.” I was probably the only one in a good mood and that’s why I saw the most.

Their dialog continued for many hours until at last “She Who Saves Many Lives” spoke. 

“I thank you each for your many observations and as well for your thoughtful reflections each to each on what each of you said. I think the future generations of the tribe will be well served by such as you. Indeed, no one person can feel and see and hear what many can. Hopefully, you will now be in a slightly better position to know what it’s like to be hungry, thirsty, hot, tired, aroused, angry, fearful, over-sated, in pain, or happy. I have made my decision.” 

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At this, “She Who Saves Many Lives” stood and began walking around the outside of the circle, handing each of eight among “The Ten Who Can Count Mountaintops with the Eyes of Others” one of the rings of opal. “Many Muscles” and “Bent-Finger” received no such ring.  

“She Who Saves Many Lives” waved her hand and extinguished the remaining embers. She spoke thus: “Arise now, rest, and further contemplate the teachings that each of you has provided to the others. And, know that it is hard to know what someone else is feeling be they hungry, thirsty, hot, tired, aroused, angry, fearful, over-sated, in pain, or over-happy. Soon, there will be another task for you who would earn the Third Ring of Empathy.” 

———————————–

Magic Portal: Touch this and you may then cause a book to be delivered to your door should you so wish it. 

Pattern Language Summary 

Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

If Only

As Gold as it Gets

Travels with Sadie: Teamwork

The Dance of Billions

Tales from an American Childhood

It Was in his Nature

Tools of Thought: Many Paths

     

The Story of Story 4: Character

19 Monday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in design rationale, fiction, story, Uncategorized

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Tags

AI, creative-writing, fiction, life, politics, story, Storytelling, truth, user experience, writing, writing-tips

The Story of Story 4: Character

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Character is revealed by choices under pressure. Character is one of the three main dimensions of story. Often people who write fiction — or developers who write “user stories” add details about the people in an effort to make their characters (or personas) more “interesting.” Adding irrelevant details in something as long as a novel might help the reader get a clearer image of the character. Even in a long novel though, it’s better to add details that relate to something else in the story. In something as short and “to the point” as a “user story” it is worse than pointless. 

Consider these descriptive details: 

“Jill had beautiful blue eyes.” 

“Jill had beautiful brown eyes.” 

“Jill had beautiful green eyes.” 

So what? 

It might be relevant to some stories. For example, if Jill were a slave on an antebellum plantation, her having blue eyes might relate to her mother being raped by a white overseer. Maybe Jill finds out and exacts revenge. In that case, her blue eyes might be meaningful. Or, in another story, Jack might insist on dating only blue-eyed blonds. That is part of his “ideal beauty.” Jack pursues Jill because of her striking blue eyes. He shares information all the time about his “conquests” with his best friend, Judy, a woman with black hair and dark eyes. If it’s a romantic comedy, we will know, long before Jack will, that he is falling in love with Judy. The physical characteristics of the women serve to reveal Jack’s true character, which turns out to be deeper than we at first surmised. 

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But suppose the story is about how someone might use an Uber app? Is it really going to matter what color her eyes are? Will it matter to someone playing a video game? 

Irrelevant details only seek to distract the reader (or the developer). These details sometimes go by the title “characterization” rather than character. Character should be reserved for deeper things. Sometimes, characterization can be interesting in the way it contrasts with character. In Psych for instance, Sean Spencer pretends every week to be a psychic helping the Santa Barbara police. His aim is to get to the truth. But in the service of getting to the truth, and putting the bad folks in jail, he runs a scam where he pretends to be psychic. 

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In the James Bond movies, the character of James Bond is revealed by his choices under pressure. He will give up everything and anything in the service of his country. But on the surface, he seems like a playboy. He drinks martinis. Yet, he is highly disciplined. He wants things his way. Even in his instructions for his martini, his meticulous attention to detail comes out. 

Spock, on Star Trek, plays a character who reminds us time and again about how “rational” he is and how he can control his emotions. Of course, what makes this interesting is precisely because he isn’t always rational and in fact, sometimes has more violent emotions than the humans he critiques for their emotionality. 

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If “character is revealed by choices under pressure,” it’s also good to remember that character should be coherently related to setting and plot. Plot advances through conflicts. In The Sound of Music, for instance, Maria has an internal conflict. She wants to be “good” and “follow the rules” of the convent (and later those of the Captain’s household), but she likes joy and music and spontaneity. She also finds herself in love with the Captain. Conflict. She also has inter-personal conflicts with the authorities at the convent, with the children, with the Captain, and with the Countess. She also has conflicts with larger forces in the world – notably Nazism. None of these conflicts is random; they arise quite naturally from the setting that she’s in — and from her own character. 

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James Frey, in How to Write a Damned Good Novel, suggests a sequence of increasingly intimate reveals  that helps the reader progressively care more and more about the character. First, you say something about the objective, external world that the character exists in. Second, you reveal what the character perceives and does about the situation. Then, you reveal how the character feels about what is happening. Finally, you let the reader “tune in” to the internal conflicts of the character by showing their internal dialogue. Consider: 

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“The snow began to fall. The wind began to howl. The “snow” morphed into sharp little knives of ice.”

“Joe began to shiver and pulled his coat tight about him, crossing his arms across his chest.” 

“Damn it! I want to be in a nice warm bed. Grrr.”

“Why do I always let Sally talk me into these half-baked schemes?” 

For me, this order “works” – I am now curious to see what this particular half-baked scheme is and what sort of power Sally has over Joe. Read the lines in the reverse order and it makes only a little sense. It also puts a greater memory load on the reader. 

In some stories, character stays fairly constant and the world (and other people) change because of the character’s choices. In the “Hero Saves the World” plot, this is the main emphasis. In the “Growing Up” plot, on the other hand, the most important action is how the character “changes” over time. I put “changes” in quotes because sometimes the “change” is really that the character simply acknowledges their underlying character. For instance, in Sweet Home Alabama, Melanie never really stops being in love with her husband (or Alabama) but consciously, she claims to want a divorce and go back to NY to be a “success.” As always, character is revealed under pressure <spoiler alert> and she “forgets” to sign the divorce papers. In many of the best stories, the character changes (or saves) the world and the world also changes or matures the character. </spoiler alert>.

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This may all make sense when it applies to fiction, but how does it impact how we write stories in a business context? This is often tricky because in many business contexts, only the founder or CEO is even allowed to have character. Everyone else is basically supposed to behave the same way: put the company first; follow the rules; do a great job; work together cooperatively; be loyal to the company. As a result, official company stories are typically bland and two-dimensional. They are basically nothing more than procedures. “If this happens, do that.” Implicitly, this means, “If this happens, do that” regardless of your internal character. 

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If you’ve done an excellent job of observing and interviewing potential users of a product or service, you have hopefully discovered some interesting internal conflicts and some related aspects of character that can become a logical part of user journeys. Initially, your target user may be reluctant to use your product. 

Users may be reluctant to use on-line banking, for instance, because of the possibility of hacking or fraud. If this is a genuine concern of 1% of your potential customers, you probably don’t want to make it a concern to the rest, unless it is something they really should worry about. On the other hand, if it’s a genuine concern of 99% of your potential customers, sweeping it under the rug won’t do. The user in your user stories can be portrayed with this concern including internal conflicts and then you can show them overcoming the concern, if and only if it really can be ameliorated through various actions like two-factor verification, password choices, etc. Telling a lie about how safe on-line banking is, will ultimately undo you no matter how well told the story is. But character and characterization of these users should be designed around conflicts that actually are relevant to the product or service. 

“Mary had put all her life savings and all her energy into her small company. Her time had become gold. She was on a path to hire more people, but that took time. Now the bank was offering lower fees if she would switch to on-line banking. She had always wanted to be a soccer player but she knew she wasn’t coordinated enough.” 

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Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

What? 

Yes, that may be something that came out in an interview with a real Mary. And it may even be part of an interesting story. But not this story! The naturally occurring conflict here is Mary’s desire to be as efficient and cost-effective as possible — and yet also to be as safe as possible. Mary may initially see these in conflict, but you may have a legitimate way for her to avoid or rethink the conflict. Mary’s character might be made more intense by having her see her budding business as a legacy she wants eventually to hand off to her daughters. But it doesn’t really matter whether she has blue eyes or brown eyes. You could instead intensify Mary’s desires by making her a success-oriented second generation immigrant whose own parents spent countless hours of hard work so she could get through college. The family still cares about every dollar. It doesn’t matter whether she lives in a small flat in Brooklyn, Chicago, or LA. It does matter that she wasn’t gifted 10 million dollars to start a business by her billionaire parents who live in a mansion in Manhattan. 

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It doesn’t matter whether she likes her martinis shaken or stirred either, unless you are making the point, e.g., that she is a fanatic for having things her way and that your software allows more customization than does that of your competitors. In that case, you can introduce a detail that shows, rather than tells, this fact about her character.

When you think back about books, movies, or TV series you really “got into”, I’m willing to bet that, at least in many cases, it’s partly because of the characters. What makes a great character for you? 

 

———————————

Author Page on Amazon.

If Only

It was in his Nature

The Orange Man

The Mango Mussolini

At Least he’s our Monster

The Impossible 

True Believer

Coelacanth

A Cat’s a Cat

Sadie the Sifter

The Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

A Query on Quislings

As Gold as it Gets

Stoned Soup

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

What a teeny man

 Donnie Boy Plays Captain Man

Donnie Boy Lets his Brother Take the Fall 

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