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Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Love and Guns

Guernica

There Never Was a Civil War

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Dick-Taters

After All

An Open Sore from Hell

Travels with Sadie Joint Problem Solving

The Walkabout Diaries: Life Will Find a Way

Donnie Gets a Hamster!

Imagine All the People

Tu-Swift Tells his Tale

27 Monday Apr 2026

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

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communication, fantasy, fiction, laguage, leadership, learning, legends, myths, short story, stories, symbols, tales, teamwork, Veritas, writing

After the feast, Many Paths rose to speak, “On behalf of the whole tribe, and on behalf of this woman who now speaks as well, I thank you, Shadow Walker, for finding Tu-Swift and returning him to me … to us. There is much that we would hear from you as to how this came about. We also would like to hear from Tu-Swift. As the elder, Shadow Walker, would you care to begin your tale?”

Shadow Walker rose, “Thank you, Many Paths. I will tell my tale in due course. Having already heard from Tu-Swift and the others, I believe that my own tale, though a useful one for us to consider, is not the first one that the tribe must hear. I believe we should first hear from Tu-Swift and then from Cat Eyes. I can tell my small tale last.”

Shadow Walker had discussed this with Tu-Swift who had reluctantly agreed. Tu-Swift, arose and Many Paths noted that as he did so, he braced himself strongly against the rough-hewn wooden table. The cheeks of Tu-Swift glowed with the red of the post-fire sunsets as he began his tale. Soon, however, he found himself “inside” the tale he was telling and his self-consciousness disappeared. A natural born storyteller, Tu-Swift illustrated his tale with sound effects, gestures, and facial expressions. Apart from babes in arms, the entire tribe, children and elders included, followed with rapt attention and respectful silence.

Tu-Swift recounted his initial abduction, his confusion, his despair, his meeting with Day-Nah, their work with the horses, how Jaccim had been the gentlest of the three overseers, both with the boys and with the horses. He described how he had sabotaged some of the weapons of the ROI and made it easy for the horses to escape. As he told his part, he glanced at Jaccim, whose eyes widened and whose jaw dropped open. He had no idea that Tu-Swift had played any part at all in the destruction of the ROI village.

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Tu-Swift went on to describe his joy at being reunited with other Veritas and their being attacked yet again with flaming arrows. He described his terrifying run to avoid the flames and the sudden stab of pain that wrecked his knee. He described his long, painful hobble back to the village in hopes of finding food in the burned forest, his discovery of the sword which he held aloft dramatically. Tu-Swift’s face exploded into a large grin as he told of his second re-uniting with Shadow Walker and the Wolf Pups. The Veritas gasped as one when he told of the harrowing flume ride.

The Veritas learned at a young age to be respectful while someone told a tale. So, tonight, they said little or nothing — until Tu-Swift came to his last dream and as he told of his “decoding” of “Sooz” in the dream, he beamed at her. Now it was her turn to carminize and the others smiled at her. But as Tu-Swift began to explain his understanding of the game and its symbols, the tribe began to murmur restively. Tu-Swift had meant this revelation to be the exciting climax to his tale, but as he looked out among the Veritas, he saw understanding dawn quickly only on the faces of Many Paths, She Who Saved Many Lives, and Eagle Eyes. The eyes of those three grew wide with surprise and delight. Most of the Veritas, however frowned, shook their heads, and muttered below their breath to someone nearby.

The frowns most of them wore were reinforced as they looked to one another. Now, the contagion of doubt even spread back to Tu-Swift himself who also frowned. He looked at Many Paths for reassurance. Tu-Swift’s nicely told tale ended anti-climatically as he mumbled something about that being the end of his tale and sat back down, again using the edge of the table as support.

Many Paths quickly stood and spoke. Her mind raced with the astounding possibilities opened up by Tu-Swift’s revelation, and the possible uses of such symbols, but she reigned her mind back to the here and the now. What this moment needed was to re-establish the unity in the tribe that came from shared experience. As she looked about her she saw that only a few among her people understood what Tu-Swift had said.

Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

Many Paths used her strongest voice to speak to the people. “Tu-Swift, thank you for sharing your tale. I am eager to learn what Cat Eyes and Shadow Walker have to say, as I am sure the rest of the tribe is as well, but before we get to that, please indulge a few questions, for I am not sure I fully understand what you meant about these symbols. We have symbols for people and for other things. But you are saying that this is a different kind of language. Many of the tribes understand sign language which is common among us. But that sign language is limited. We understand each other when we are face to face.

“The language you speak of,” she continued, “is different. You claim there is a symbol for each sound — as in your example of your good friend Sooz. The “s” sound of “sooz” is shown by the stick figure representation of our sign language for “snake.” Then, the “ooo” sound is shown by the stick figure representing our sign language for “owl” who often makes the “ooo” sound. Last, the “zzz” sound of “Sooz” is shown by the stick figure of someone making our sign language for “buzzing bee.” So, such a language can cause one to think of a long sequence of words just as they would be spoken aloud. Is that right? Can this be so, Tu-Swift?”

Tu-Swift swallowed hard. He did not enjoy being put on the spot again. What had seemed so obvious to him, was apparently not so easy for others to grasp. He bit his lip. Through the fog of his embarrassment, he realized that Many Paths understood perfectly. She was helping the many of the Veritas understand that which was already understood by the few. Tu-Swift stood again, and nodded. “Exactly so, sister. You will hear next the tale of Cat Eyes who believes that there are complete stories made with such symbols and that those who understand such language can “hear” a story in the ears of their imagination. Maybe it will become clearer if you hear her story now.” Tu-Swift sat down, but to the surprise of Many Paths, Hudah Salah arose and spoke.

Many Paths recognized her to speak. Many Paths thought to herself how much she had changed since she first came to live with the Veritas. Then, she would never have risen to speak on her own but would silently support with her expressions, manner, and short utterances that which her husband Lion Slayer had already said. Now, however, she showed no hesitation to speak.

“Lion Slayer likely knows more of this than I do, but among our people there is a legend of such a language. Near the southern edge of the desert where we dwell, there is a place we call, “The Desert of the Desert” because nothing grows there. Only a few have ventured there for everyone who does so returns sick. But more than one such have told of odd symbols written there on very large rocks. Our legends say that such stones speak to those who can listen to them properly. None of those who visited there heard the stones speak. But now, I have to wonder whether those symbols are cousins to the ones that the ROI use.” Hudah Salah sat and Lion Slayer stood quickly adding, “It is just as Hudah Salah says. Such symbols may be dangerous. For, as Hudah Salah says, everyone who goes to hear these stones speak returns ill but none of those who have returned heard the rocks say anything beyond the windy whispers of the desert night breezes.”

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A buzz of murmurs began among the Veritas, and Many Paths recognized Cat Eyes. “Let me begin my tale. First, I thank Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift for rescuing me and I thank all of you for welcoming me back to my tribe. For I too am of the Veritas.” As Cat Eyes looked among the Veritas, she could see more uncertainty and confusion. “Let me begin my tale with a reassurance however. I lived among both the Z-Lotz and the ROI and saw many people, including children, using and playing with the symbols that Tu-Swift spoke of. None of these became ill. Certainly, no-one among either of those tribes believes that such symbols cause illness. I suspect it may be the extreme dryness or heat of a place where nothing grows that causes the illness. Or, perhaps those symbols are different. But these symbols I have carried myself for years and not gotten ill. I now believe that these symbols allow the ROI and the Z-Lotz to plan and plot and tell tales across great distances and across many summers though I did not realize it at the time I lived among them. I have thought about it more and more after Tu-Swift’s revelation.” To illustrate her point, she held aloft one of the matts of symbols and let it unfold as she held it in her hand. She lightly brushed her hand over the symbols.

“This is not painful,” Cat Eyes continued, “and does not cause illness or I would be long dead for I have kept these hidden on my person or very near for years. Some of the richest among the Z-Lotz have a room where their children play and many of these kinds of matts are spread on the floor. The walls of these rooms are stacked with many sheaves of such symbols. They cause no harm that I could discern, nor the Z-Lotz who had their children play there.”

Eagle Eyes held something aloft, “Sheaves like these?” she questioned.

Many Paths worried that the clear telling of the tale of Cat Eyes might become derailed and confused. She took the object from the hand of Eagle Eyes and handed it to Cat Eyes.

Cat Eyes nodded and exchanged a look with Many Paths. “Indeed! This is exactly the sort of thing I am speaking of. Where did you find it?” After a moment she added, “This one seems damaged. There are missing leaves.”

Now it was Eagle Eyes’ turn to blush. “I found it when we searched for Tu-Swift and the others in the village of the Z-Lotz. I thought it was nothing more than a clever and less bulky way to carry fire-starting tinder. We used a few leaves to start a fire on our way back here. I had no idea….”

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Many Paths jumped into the conversation. “We must study such symbols and learn from them. It will no doubt take time. But meanwhile, Cat Eyes, please tell us your tale, unbroken. I suspect that although it is late, many would like to hear that tale tonight. Others may be understandably tired and eager to put their children to bed. What say you people? Shall we hear this tale tonight or on the morrow?”

After much murmuring among the Veritas, the vote was taken by a show of hands. Nearly everyone longed to hear the tale of Cat Eyes now though the last bits of color had dimmed long ago. Many Paths nodded and gestured to Cat Eyes who began her own tale of how she had been stolen at an early age, even younger than Tu-Swift.

“Sixteen summers ago, I was born among the Veritas, in a village over the Twin Mountains,” she began.

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——————————————-

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

The Walkabout Diaries

Travels with Sadie

Plans for US; Some GRUesome

Labelism

The Game

Wednesday

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

The Dance of Billions

Dialog: Killing Sticks

20 Monday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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Original art by Pierce Morgan

As was traditional among the Veritas, before beginning the delving into such a troublesome topic as how to make sense of killing sticks, they sang their songs of the origins of the Veritas. They sang a song about their daily life and another about the dangers of greed and lying (taken from their story, “The Orange Man.”) Lastly, they ended with a song about the forgotten fields.

These elements were traditional, but Many Paths opted to push their common ground even further because she knew this could be a very divisive topic. She intuited this partly from overhearing snippets of conversations as she passed by. She saw the puzzlement and concern on everyone’s face now. And, she reckoned that the idea of a weapon that kills so quickly quite reasonably caused much anxiety. When people were anxious they often shied away from the truth and from exploring many paths before running down one. She didn’t expect everyone to think of as many branches as she did, but she hoped they wouldn’t sprint thoughtlessly down the first path they spied.

“If you will indulge me, I would like us to recount for a few moments, our successes in the Battle of the Three Forks. I do this for two reasons. I recount this victory because it will remind us of our ability to work together and our creativity because in that battle, we used many weapons that some among us invented. Eagle Eyes, as you may recall, invented the slippery slope after watching the ant lion; she also trained the Eagle to protect her and found a way to divert the river. And what was our greatest weapon of all?”

“Arrows well-aimed.” someone shouted.

“Well, those are vital and we have some exceptionally good archers here.” In the mental screen of Many Paths, the image of Shadow Walker drawing a bow sprang to mind. She missed him all the time in the form of a dull ache, but seeing him so vividly in her mind’s eye sharpened the pain as a hot pepper may do to a toothache. She drew a curtain over that image and continued. “I suspect our greatest weapons were being patient and trying to understand our enemies. As a result, two of those so-called enemies were not even actual enemies. In the case of the Nomads of the South, we have formed friendships and exchanged goods to both of our benefits. I recount this tale because it is natural to fear a new weapon that we do not understand. It is wise to dialogue this. Let us do so thinking with our whole brain. Do not become panicked. We have long survived and we will survive long after. So — open your hearts and open your minds. What do we make of these killing sticks?”

Trunk of Tree, being Trunk of Tree, immediately took a stand against the legitimacy of the question. “Before we go any further, I’d like to say our first step should be to verify this rather preposterous story with another witness.”

“You do have another witness,” said Lion Slayer. “Me. I was there as well. We both saw and heard the same things. We surely were not struck by the same hallucination at the same time.”

“There might be many ways for an illusion to occur. I do not fault you, but I am willing to lead another expedition to observe — and even steal this killing stick.”

Lion Slayer slowly shook his head. “ I do agree, that it would be good to find out more, but it will take at least a week. And, once you are there…it is huge beyond your imaginings. In fact, we would have been captured several times except that Eagle Eyes really is just that. But there are at least 100 times as many people there as we have Veritas. We saw what we saw and we came back here without being seen or caught.

Eagle Eyes spoke up, “Lion Slayer’s right.” If you went back again to get an unnecessary verification, that person could be caught. That is not only a danger to the brave persons who would attempt to witness another such use; it is a danger to the whole tribe. If such a one were seen, these Z-Lotz would know that we know about these killing sticks. This may well hasten an attack as they would wish to do so before we learn how to make such weapons or defend against them. And, if such a one were caught, they would surely be tortured for information. Perhaps they would successfully resist or mislead but if they have a weapon such as this, who knows what kinds of torture they might have?”

In the Veritas form of dialogue, it was not necessary, particularly at the beginning to answer point with counterpoint. People just shared their thoughts and experiences. The Veritas actually listened to all of those who had spoken so far. There was a silence as the sun set in violent crimson and the roaring fire began to look brighter with the setting sun.

Hudah Salem said, “I say to you that the Nomads of the south also think it good that we did not fight. It was not our fight. This now, we know more about the Z-Lotz and Nut-Pi. This now, we are happier still not to fight you.”

Many Paths nodded. “So far, the strongest weapon we have found is not a weapon at all, but finding common cause so as not to fight at all.”

Trunk of Tree spoke again, “But imagine that the Nomads of the South had had such killing sticks, assuming they do exist. They may have been less reluctant to kill if it were so easy and so risk-free for them.”

A long silence ensued. The Veritas tried to imagine how having — or not having — an easier, more risk-free way to kill might or might not influence their actions and decisions.

At last, Many Paths spoke. She realized that Trunk of Tree was likely using the dialogue as a way to demonstrate his wisdom and power. Nonetheless, it was more important, so she thought at the time, to seek the truth. “I believe you may be correct, Trunk of Tree. I would add that how much such killing sticks would encourage or deter going to war would depend on how a particular tribe thinks about life and how they reward their warriors and on what basis. All of these considerations must also be in our calculations as well. Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer, I have a question, perhaps on the minds of many. In this meeting you witnessed, suppose that the leader of the Z-Lotz had not had a weapon of any kind. Would he have prevailed over these other men in any case?

Lion Slayer shook his head. “We cannot tell. We did not get a good look. Neither man seemed particularly — neither of them looked like Trunk of Tree. The one called Nut-Pi was a slight man, not young, but neither was he old. The first two he killed looked to be able-bodied warriors. The last man killed, the one he tortured, was portly. In a fight without weapons — who knows? We could not judge their skills.”

Eagle Eyes spoke next. “As Lion Slayer said, we did not have a chance to see the war skills of either. I can say with certainty that both Nut-Pi and the man we think was leader of the People who Steal Children were cowards. Neither one was as brave as are our warriors.”

Trunk of Tree questioned this as well. “How can you say this? You do not know.”

Eagle Eyes replied, “It is true. I do not know for certain. However, the Z-Lotz leader, Nut-Pi, though he had a killing stick, had numerous guards around him to face these unarmed persons. He used a weapon which easily and immediately killed two men. And yet, he did not use it just once but many times on his last victim. He intentionally and cruelly inflicted pain. Such damage as caused by the killing stick could have killed quickly. He chose to do it slowly instead. That is a bully. He used his power and his weapon to humiliate and cause unneeded pain. These are signs of a coward.”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“The other man — the leader, so I think, of the People Who Steal Children begged for his life. He did not try to help his comrades. As Lion Slayer said, he looked to be one who has things brought to him all his life, or at least recently.”

Many Paths added, “Indeed, we already have evidence that Nut-Pi was a coward. He did not participate in the Battle of Three Forks though he tricked others into fighting. He promised the booty to be gained from the defeat of the Veritas to three different tribes. Surely, he knows one thing cannot be given to three different tribes. He lied to his own comrades and allies. Such a man is a coward.”

Trunk of Tree again spoke. Since he had no direct knowledge of the affairs, it began to seem to many among the Veritas that he was not participating in a true dialogue. This rarely happened, but it had happened.

Trunk of Tree said, “So there are cowards with killing sticks and cowards without killing sticks. From this we learn nothing. A strong leader, who is not a coward could be a very formidable leader and lead his people to victory after victory.” After a short pause, he added, “Assuming such killing sticks even exist, of course.”

Eagle Eyes shot a look at Trunk of Tree and caught his eye. She signed to him subtly so that others might not see, but openly enough that Trunk of Tree caught the meaning of her deft sign language, as did Many Paths and several others. “Do you think I am a liar, Trunk of Tree?” the gestures asked.

Easy Tears spoke next, “Trunk of Tree, we welcome you to share your thoughts with the tribe, just as we welcome the thoughts of everyone in the tribe. But I, for one, would like to hear from others what they think of this killing stick. And, speaking of sticks, Many Paths, perhaps it is time to make use of the Talking Stick as well.”

There was a general murmur of assent at this suggestion. The tribe had not forgotten that not so long ago, Trunk of Tree had spoken against the leadership of Many Paths and even now, it seemed that everything he said was aimed toward making him leader and making him in charge of the killing sticks, no matter what the costs.

Many Paths stood and held aloft the Talking Stick. She glanced around the circles and saw that Stone Chipper wanted to speak so she handed him the Talking Stick.

“You all do know that we use arrowheads and spearheads and that the preparation of such requires work. Yet, most of you do other work, so you do not realize how much skill and how much work is involved in making a good arrowhead or a good spearhead or a really good axe. It may be that these killing sticks require much less work. Or, it may be that these killing sticks require much more work to fashion. We have no idea. We also have no idea how much skill is involved in keeping one or using one. We do not know how much using a killing dulls it. Can it be used ten times? A hundred times? A thousand times? Not everyone is equally skilled at bow and arrow. Not everyone is equally skilled at using a spear thrower. Sometimes, in learning to use our weapons, one of our own is injured. You have all heard how flaming arrows, which seem like an excellent weapon accidentally destroyed an entire village. We know nothing about the dangers of such killing sticks. Perhaps one who seeks to learn to become highly skilled might accidentally kill others or themselves while they are learning. Perhaps we should all have one. Perhaps no-one should. But I believe it would be foolish to steal them from these people of the great walled city, these Z-Lotz, until we know more about them. It isn’t just like stealing their bows and arrows which we know how to use and make and care for.”

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Stone Chipper’s son, Horse Viewer offered his hand to his father who laid the Talking Stick for the first time in his son’s hand. Stone Chipper hoped his son’s would prove wise. “When I was young and first followed my father to help find appropriate stones, I generally walked barefoot. As I grew heavier and my father walked more quickly, I disliked the sharp stones on my feet. So, I began to wear moccasins as most do. This protected my feet. But it also made them softer. Is it not possible that using the Killing Sticks would make the arms that throw spears and the arm that strings and draws a bow softer and weaker as well? That is my thought.”

She Who Saves Many Lives took the Talking Stick and said, “And that is a good thought, Stone Chipper.” Though the tribe awaited her to say more, she passed the Talking Stick to A-OC.

“It is thus with hands as well. And muscles,” said A-OC. “When it is the season to climb the trees and fetch fruit, my skin and my arms both become stronger. But when it is a season of much weaving, only the tips of my fingers are hard.” With that she passed the Talking Stick to Bent Finger.

He silently held up the crooked index finger of his left hand. “It is true that the animals of the forest, the trees, even the rivers adapt as do our own bodies, but not always. Sometimes accidents happen and there is no repairing it. As you see, my badly broken finger never did straighten or regain its earlier strength. This makes me wonder about the accidents that might happen with such killing sticks about our camp.”

P-OC gently took the Talking Stick. “We talk of killing sticks. But if I understand the tale told by Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer, they saw one killing stick. Do we really know whether there are more?”

Lion Slayer signaled his intention to speak again. Many Paths took the talking stick from P-OC and handed it to Lion Slayer. “It is true, P-OC. We only saw one. That is an important point. In the place where Sadah and I were born, there are many grains of sand. They are each but a very small rock, so tiny that even an ant may carry such a very small rock with no harm. But when there are many many such small stones and they fly together like a large murmuration of starlings, these insignificant tiny stones can kill the strongest among us if he is left unprotected. So, I agree that it makes a great deal of difference if there is one such killing stick or a hundred or a hundred hundred.”

Eagle Eyes spoke next, “I do not know whether there are a hundred or a hundred hundred, but I am fairly certain that there are seventeen. I mean, at least seventeen.”

Lion Slayer was taken aback. “But we only saw one. What do you mean?”

Eagle Eyes explained. “I agree that the number is an important point, so I have been returning to our observations from before we arrived at the giant camp of the Z-Lotz. When we were searching the horizon for signs of our comrades, I saw many — well, 17 to be exact — of such similar sticks being carried among the party. I just thought at the time that they were odd spears or walking sticks. I did not realize at the time that they were sticks that kill so I did not pay much attention to them. But upon returning as I just have to what my eyes saw, there were seventeen.”

Lion Slayer shook his head slowly. “I do not recall seeing any others. But I do believe Eagle Eyes. She is amazing. Her eyesight is much better than normal. It is possible…how do you…you notice so much, Eagle Eyes.”

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Many Paths picked up the Talking Stick and noticed Trunk of Tree wanting to talk. She used her prerogative though and added, “I, for one, believe Eagle Eyes. But we still do not know whether there are 17 or 100 or 100 of 100. This seems important for two reasons. First, a hundred hundred such weapons could be overwhelming while even so many as seventeen might be defeated by our archers. Aside from that, if there are only seventeen such Killing Sticks and each one owned by someone else, then, if we were to steal one to study, we would surely be found out. But if there are hundreds, a few missing would be far less noticeable.”

Trunk of Tree could no longer contain himself, “Wait! A few minutes ago, you were cautioning against trying to learn more Now, you want us to steal such Killing Sticks.”

Many Paths tilted her head toward Trunk of Tree and held the Talking Stick high. “Trunk of Tree, you must wait your turn, even as so must Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer who were actually there or even as so must everyone. You must wait your turn, even as young Horse Viewer did, though he be only of nine summers.”

Gentle laughter murmured among the gathering and Many Paths continued. “I did not say either of those things. In fact, in my whole life, I don’t recall ever saying that we should not learn more. What I do believe is that it would be wonderful to know more about these Killing Sticks, but I also believe that there would be great risks in trying to steal one or more of them. I did not say that we should attempt such a theft. I said that if we were to steal some and that there were only a few, these Z-Lotz would likely notice that they had been stolen.”

There were nods among many of the Veritas.

Fleet of Foot signaled for the Talking Stick and Many Paths handed it to him. “Many Paths speaks true. I have been thinking of something else though. What would it mean if we had many such Killing Sticks and it were so easy to kill? What would it mean if we could kill with so little effort? Might not the people use them to kill each other?” He looked at the Veritas in the firelight as he spoke.

“Have you never quarreled with your neighbor and raised your voices in anger and tussled with them momentarily. Perhaps you were so angered you went home and plotted to kill them. But that took some thought. And as you thought about what to do, you soon came to realize that you had no real desire to kill your friend. You were merely angry. And so what if she were in the wrong. Your friendship is more important. And, the next day you embraced her and forgot the argument of the yesterday, choosing life and love, in the today.

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“Imagine you had ready to hand one of these killing sticks and you got so mad you stung her to death with it. Your friend is dead. You will never be the same. Now, also are two families devastated. Anger and division will creep into our numbers as never before.

“And suppose,” continued Fleet of Foot, that many tribes all have such weapons? Will they not have such moments and cause wars with the killing of many on both sides? And could these killing sticks not also be useful in keeping slaves?”

Easy Tears added, “Yes, but there are other ways to do that — to keep slaves.”

A-OC took another turn, “Is this possible misuse among ourselves not a greater danger than the temporary military disadvantage? If we cannot safely still such killing sticks, can we make these killing sticks?”

Stone Chipper asked, “Do we have any idea how they might work?”

A long silence followed.

Eagle Eyes said, “I know fairly well what they looked but I have no idea how the work.”

Many Paths spoke, “It grows quite late. We must discuss this further, of course. For now, we must post more guards. Trunk of Tree, will you please consider how best to do that?”

He nodded, glad of something to do and glad of the honor that Many Paths bestowed after chiding him somewhat for speaking out of turn.

“Eagle Eyes, tomorrow, perhaps you and I and Stone Carver and Easy Tears may begin making some models of these Killing Sticks. I would like us to make perhaps seventeen — quite a good number for now — and spread them about among our people. I would like those who are given such to imagine that they are actual Killing Sticks. And, I would like everyone else among you to also imagine that they are true Killing Sticks. I would like to see how people react to these Killing Sticks among us as we continue to discuss what to do. Even though the Killing Sticks are not real, having such a thing — it is much like the masks we use to help with hunting. It will help us decide how to deal. Even such Killing Sticks as Nut-Pi has will not kill all our cousins in the sea and the air, all our brothers that hide in their tiny caves. Life will persist. This I know. Peace now be with you all.” She glanced at She Who Saves Many Lives. Even in the dim and flickering firelight she could see a small nod and an approving smile on the lips of the Elder.

————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon.

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

Donnie Gets His Name on a Tennis Trophy

Donnie Takes a Blue Ribbon in Spelling

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

Bohm Dialogue

Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Dick-Taters

Math Class: Who Are You?

An Open Sore From Hell

After All

Guernica

All We Stand to Lose

There Never Was a Civil War

Love and Guns

Imagine All the People

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

Myths of the Veritas: When Eagles Return

10 Friday Apr 2026

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

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collaboration, communication, cooperation, Democracy, empathy, fiction, honesty, leadership, legends, life, lying, myths, politics, stories, story, teamwork, truth, USA, Veritas, writing

Though the winged creature was hooded, Many Paths stretched her hand forth slowly and carefully so as not to startle the raptor away. As she did so, she imitated the screes of joy the eagles sang when they rode the air high above. She hoped that would work. It seemed to help to train the wolves. She missed them too! So many of her favorite people gone — and at her suggestion. To the task at hand, she ordered herself.

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It occurred to her at just this moment that perhaps the eagles were not singing for joy at all. Maybe they were exchanging information about the location of prey below! Or, maybe they were arguing about whose turn it was to have first go at devouring the body of the unlucky rabbit or mouse. Here I am, she chuckled, named Many Paths and still jumping to conclusions and taking the first line of thought that arises.

What else might they be? What do people do? People speak of things far beyond their immediate concerns. Do the animals? Do they tell each other stories? Make promises? Do they apologize? Do they try to trick each other? Well, they certainly do that!

Even as her mind raced about the challenges of cooperating with animals of a different species, her hand still slid steadily and smoothly to the target and she deftly undid the small knots. Now, she slowly withdrew her hand and murmured warmly to the raptor on her arm.

“Thank you, mighty eagle, for this word from afar.”

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Many Paths recognized the cloth even before it was fully unrolled: the shred was from Eagle Eyes! The two of them had travelled together to gather the rare indigo gentian which Eagle Eyes had used to dye part of her smock.

Many Paths felt a sudden pull of connection to Eagle Eyes as she felt the cloth. She held it close and drew breath in through her nostrils. Perhaps it was only imagination but she caught the scent of Eagle Eyes. Something else was much stronger though! Soot. Fire. As she looked more closely, she could see that a tiny section of the cloth had been burned!

She of Many Paths felt that she had to share this new information with the tribe … and soon. First, she wanted to think what it might signify. Many Paths frowned. She wished that Eagle Eyes might have somehow drawn a map — possibly even including the positions of all of the companions of Eagle Eyes. She couldn’t tell whether Shadow Walker or Tu-Swift were all right. Why couldn’t she include cloth from them too…or their signs. She recalled with a smile the map that She Who Saves Many Lives had given her for their test for the First Ring of Empathy. But of course, that map was much too large to expect an eagle to carry very far.

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Many Paths strode toward the feast and tried to frame how she would present this. On the one hand, it was good news, but the news was ambiguous and incomplete. The fire part didn’t seem positive, but it was hard to tell. Too bad, she thought, that eagles couldn’t carry a better and more complete map. But the wolves could! Maybe they would bring more complete news. She felt a pang of affection for them as well as loss. She missed the wolves. Immediately, a much stronger feeling of missing flowed over her, for everyone, but especially Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker. She sighed and felt a big hollow inside, but then, the image of Shadow Walker came quite clearly to mind. She felt as though she could almost hear him talking though it seemed likely he was far away. The mind does play funny tricks sometimes, thought Many Paths, but it seems like he is telling me that my idea is right; we could communicate over distances by sending maps and symbols. Sounds a bit crazy, but why not? The wolves can track by a scent from something that is no longer there. What if we humans could learn to put a whole host of marks and scents on paper and then send it quickly via the wolves? She arrived at the feast and mentally placed this idea up on a branch of a tree she kept for “Interesting ideas to be thought about later.” For now it was time to reassure the people and tell them what she knew. For a split second, she considered the idea to pretend that she had simply “foreseen” that Eagle Eyes was all right and that there had been a fire. People might begin to believe she was magic and that could help focus the people to a purpose when the need became great. She could even weave a story that involved the “Magic Rings of Empathy.”

Now she smiled at the folly of that course. If she were successful in this lie — because exaggerating one’s own powers is always a lie — it would only encourage her to make even more outrageous lies in the future. The people cannot be led on a wise path with lies. That seems obvious.

Why then did she come up with such absurd courses of action? Maybe it was to continue to strengthen her resolve to do what was best for her people. For each time such a plot surfaced, at least so far, she had resisted the temptation. Mainly, she saw it was the wrong thing to do. Imagine that your eyes began lying to your toes about the position of a stone. Imagine that your mouth lied to your stomach and your hand lied to your mouth.

Even from a selfish standpoint, such exaggerations of her powers would be quite dangerous. She could be found out and lose all credibility with the tribe. Suppose someone believed that the Magic of Remote Sight arose from the Rings alone. Someone might contrive to steal those rings, with or without her fingers attached! If she shared the actual evidence she had, a shred of cloth, the whole tribe could apply their wisdom about likely interpretations. But if, instead, she presented her interpretation as fact, people could not think straight nor generate the full set of likely possibilities.

Beyond that, Many Paths knew that she could never fully enjoy and participate in the feast or in talking with her tribe mates if she knew she were telling them a lie. She would be — forever alone — even if they never found out. She would know she was lying. She would know. And that would put up a wall between them. No matter what someone said to her, she would have to “check to see” whether her answer would betray her. A moment’s lapse of ethics, thought She of Many Paths, could lead to a lifetime of cover-ups and further lies.

Instead, she took her place among warm greetings and admiration. She let it be known that she had some interesting news to share around the fire after their meal of venison and corn on the cob.

selective focus photography of grilled corns

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————————————————

The Orange Man: A Parable of Lying and Greed

The First Ring of Empathy (The Start of Book One)

Fire and Feast (The Start of Book Two)

An Essay on How we sometimes Confuse the Label with the Thing

At Least He’s Our Monster

Corn on the Cob (An Essay on Mindfulness and Gratitude)

Come Together Right Now

The Isle of Right

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

The Truth Train

A Lot is Not a Little

The Crows and Me

Guernica

Travels with Sadie: Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries: Mind Walk

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Fifteen Properties

The “Not-See” Party

A Wild Ride to a Lower Level

05 Sunday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, Uncategorized, Veritas

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communication, cooperation, fantasy, fiction, language, leadership, legend, myth, story, teamwork, Veritas, writing

Tu-Swift shook his head. “We should all go. You and I are not all that fast either right now. He has knowledge about horses that we need to learn — and about the ROI. We cannot leave them here. We don’t know who is coming, but I doubt it’s a rescue party.”

Artwork by Pierce Morgan

Shadow Walker sighed. “All right. If Jaccim can walk out of here. I’m not carrying him. Nor is anyone else.”

Though the sun could not be seen, its hidden light from beyond the horizon lit high pink clouds as Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift tugged aside the heavy door. Tu-Swift, now fully awake, shouted down into the cellar. “Cat Eyes! Cat Eyes! Wake up! We hear war drums afar but coming closer. We should leave. I’m going down to help. Pack up quickly. Can you explain to the others?”

Tu-Swift, who had lost all fear of the others, began working his way down the stairs. The others were already packing. Apparently, they had no objection to leaving their adoptive slave-home, now in ruins. Tu-Swift could hear the soft yet insistent voice of Cat Eyes talking to the others in ROI. For some reason, it did not sound so foreign when she spoke it. Shadow Walker had also descended. He imagined his strength would be needed to get Jaccim up the stairway. Though if this really were a war party approaching, he doubted they could out-run or out-walk them. Working together, they managed to get everyone out of the cellar with their meager provisions and belongings.

Shadow Walker began working his way toward the cover of the burned and broken forest and motioned for the others to follow. Jaccim shook his head and jabbered something in ROI. Shadow Walker grew impatient. “We don’t have time to discuss. We can leave him here though I think it would be better to kill him outright. Otherwise, the ROI or whoever it is will force him to say which way we went. Let’s go!”

“No, no. You don’t understand,” began Cat Eyes. He wants to come with us, but he says we should go another, faster way.”

Shadow Walker asked, “How? What other way?”

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Cat Eyes said, “He calls it a ‘flume’ but I don’t know what that is.” She glanced at Jaccim who grimaced in pain. It hurt him to move, but he began using sign language to supplement his words.

Cat Eyes, turned now to Shadow Walker. “He says that beyond the place where they kept the horses there is a branch of the river that was long ago dug to allow logs to flow down to the plain. Even among the ROI, it is not much thought of. But he thinks it will still work. There are still hollowed logs there that we can use to ride quickly down to the plain. If we hurry, and they don’t see us, we will escape them for good.”

Tu-Swift stared at Shadow Walker who stared back and then looked at Jaccim. Could Tu-Swift be right about this man? Does he really feel grateful for the medicine? Shadow Walker thought it would be almost impossible to outrun an enemy anyway with his sprained ankle. “Yes, let’s try this ‘flume’.”

They made their way as quickly as possible back to the horse paddock. Beyond that they went toward a small stream. On the far side of the stream, the current had dug into the bank. In that darkness, floated several hollowed out logs.

Jaccim pointed toward them as though he wanted them to get in these logs. But then, as they approached, he suddenly shook his head and pointed urgently to a nearby large lever, hidden among vines, and signed for them to help him instead. It still wasn’t clear to Shadow Walker whether or not this was some sort of elaborate plot or trick. He kept his hand near his sword and whispered to Tu-Swift a single word: “Caution.”

Jaccim grimaced as he pulled back on the motionless lever. Cat Eyes, Shadow Walker, and Tu-Swift put their backs into it as well. The lever itself seemed to be made of that same material that the swords were fashioned from and the cellar trap door — and the door that Shadow Walker had moved a few days ago. They all pulled on the lever, but nothing happened. Then suddenly, all four of them fell on their backs as the lever gave way. Jaccim urged them to get into the dugouts now – at once. The lever had apparently been connected to a kind of gate which moved and allowed much of the river to veer off steeply to the right. Shadow Walker got in behind Jaccim. He wanted to keep an eye on him. Two women quickly got into another dugout, each holding one of the wolf pups cradled in her arms. Cat Eyes got into the third and last log and told Tu-Swift to get behind her.

The logs felt odd and unstable. They eddied around in the dark pool and Jaccim used his hands to paddle the log. Soon, Shadow Walker imitated him. Working together the log slowly inched its way out into the current. Suddenly, the log began to move quickly. Jaccim immediately put his hands out and grabbed the side of the bank. Then, with Shadow Walker’s help, they turned the boat slightly.

To Tu-Swift’s eyes, it seemed the boat had simply disappeared. Directly in front of him, he could see the two ROI women following. Their boat also fell from view. Tu-Swift was tempted to jump out. He knew how to swim but he had never ridden in a boat and he didn’t like it. But Cat Eyes grabbed at the shore and managed to turn their boat and then…whoosh! The two of them were falling, speeding downward. Tu-Swift grabbed Cat Eyes around the waist to help keep his balance. He could see that they rushed through a wooden channel — a kind of artificial river. They fell much faster than he could swim. The long beautiful hair of Cat Eyes streamed into his face making it hard to see. Maybe Jaccim had lured all of them to their death. He began to wonder how he and Shadow Walker could have been so stupid.

Suddenly, Tu-Swift found himself submerged in icy water. The breakneck flight of the log stopped. It resurfaced and bobbed along gently. Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes now floated together stuck to their clothes and to each other. Tu-Swift noticed that the other two logs floated nearby. He could hear the water rushing into this slow river behind him. Or, was the sound in front. Tu-Swift felt disoriented. In front, he could see Jaccim and Shadow Walker paddling wildly toward the shore. And, now, so did the other two ROI women. He and Cat Eyes followed suit, though he wasn’t sure why. They were already soaked. And, this seemed a pleasant enough way to travel. There was definitely a roar in front of them. He could see Jaccim and Shadow Walker scrambling out of their boat, grabbing their things and wading to shore, holding on to the branches of a fallen tree and pulling hand over hand to work toward the shore. Cat Eyes yelled above the din: “Come to shore! Now!”

Shadow Walker tried to pull the dugout along with him but the current dragged it away. It floated away and disappeared. Soon, he and Cat Eyes joined the other four on the shore, all of them soaked. They scrambled up a muddy embankment. From there, Tu-Swift found a higher vantage point and watched the other two logs disappear over a cliff of water. A sudden shiver shook him. Was it the cold, he wondered? Or, was it the knowledge that he had been seconds from being crushed from a fall?

Tu-Swift began to shiver uncontrollably now. Shadow Walker rummaged through his belongings but all the blankets were damp. He glanced at Jaccim and saw that he lay motionless, apparently exhausted from the effort required by their narrow escape. Shadow Walker felt loath to build a fire after seeing all the destruction and death it had caused, but he knew Tu-Swift especially needed warmth. He was so skinny. His lips were turning blue. Shadow Walker found himself wishing Tu-Swift could shake his body as violently as the wolf pups had done to dry themselves.

Shadow Walker glanced about. This part of the forest, far below the Center Place of the ROI had been spared by the great conflagration. He placed a few damp blankets and hides over Tu-Swift and searched for tinder and kindling. He now felt comfortable leaving Tu-Swift, at least for a time. He returned a few moments later to see a strange sight. Tu-Swift and Jaccim lay together. Both shook with cold but the three women had thrown their arms and legs around the two, using their own body heat to help keep everyone keep warm.

Shadow Walker created a place to set a fire with reflecting stones around them on one side and a rock behind on the other side. Before he began striking his milky blue-brown flints together though, he asked Cat Eyes to find out from Jaccim whether their fire could be seen from up above.

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She quickly translated the short question into ROI, but Jaccim’s answer seemed too long. At last she said, “He rather doubts they will follow us. What they see from afar could be clouds from the water fall. Or, smoking remains of the fire. Those are not the war drums of the ROI, but of the Z-LOTZ. They are not actually even war drums but celebration drums. The leader of the Z-LOTZ proclaims that the ROI are now in default of their agreements and all will be made slaves. The drums are calling all the living ROI to come out and present themselves as slaves for the Z-LOTZ.”

Shadow Walker asked, “What agreement?”

Cat Eyes sighed. “That’s a long story but the main point is, it’s okay to set the fire.” Here, she looked straight at Shadow Walker.

“Tu-Swift is very cold! Please!” As she said this, she hugged Tu-Swift even more tightly as though to demonstrate her point.

Shadow Walker was a skilled fire starter. Even so, his own hands shook a bit as he set the fire and chipped his flints together.

Soon, Tu-Swift’s color returned. It felt quite nice being warmed by the three women. Especially Cat Eyes. Tu-Swift found her eyes very beautiful to look into. He stopped shivering and the women released him. He sighed and inched a little closer to the fire. He noticed a small stack of kindling laying a ways off.

Tu-Swift found the kindling — weird. Normally, Shadow Walker stacked firewood in a very methodical way. These sticks lay haphazardly splayed out at odd angles. Not surprising, thought Tu-Swift, because Shadow Walker had been in a hurry. Feeling a bit embarrassed by being so cold, and even more by the pleasure he derived from the women warming him, he decided to do something useful and to stack the wood carefully. He sat now still close to the fire, but with his back to it and began to stack the sticks. But as he did so, he felt an odd tingling sensation on the back of his neck. He noticed that his eyes stared fixedly at one little configuration of sticks. And, it reminded him somehow of Stone Chipper who had folded his arms just like that in order to signify…

Tu-Swift clapped his hands together. “The dream! The dream! The dream!” he exclaimed aloud.

Shadow Walker held up his hand and said, “Don’t shout so! What dream? What are you talking about?”

Tu-Swift stared at Shadow Walker and asked very slowly, “Did you save the hides with the strange markings? Did you?”

Shadow Walker nodded solemnly. “I did. You just now sat on one such hide over there.” Shadow Walker pointed at the spot where Tu-Swift had just been sitting. “What is going on?”

Tu-Swift glanced at the eyes of his companions. “I think I know what it means!”

Cat Eyes seemed excited. “The marks? You know what they mean?”

Tu-Swift nodded, “I think so. I have to check. You know the Z-LOTZ tongue as well as the ROI and Veritas, right, Cat Eyes?”

Cat Eyes. “Yes, I do.”

Tu-Swift added, “Good! Good! And sign language. You know their sign languages too, right?”

Cat Eyes answered, “Well, yes, but they are the same. Almost identical. Like three different leaves on the same tree.”

Tu-Swift eagerly asked, “And do they have the Legend about the gifts of sounds from the animals?”

Cat Eyes considered this for a moment. “Well, I am not sure. I have never heard it whole after I was stolen. They wouldn’t bother to entertain me or teach me about such things. It would take me some time to recall whether I overheard it but it sounds vaguely familiar.”

Tu-Swift, “Yes, yes. Well, it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t matter. Here, look at this. You see how these marks are like the arms and forearms and hands? Don’t you see?”

Cat Eyes looked at the excitement on Tu-Swift’s face. His eyes twinkled with the vibrant flames. “So, you think these marks are actually meant to be … pictures … of people doing sign language?”

Tu-Swift nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes! But it’s more than that too. See? It isn’t just every sign that’s shown. Each sign is for one of the main sounds of the language! See? There is the ‘zzz’ of the buzzing bee! There is the ‘sss’ of the hissing snake! Do you see? Do you see? We can make these symbols line up into a whole story! Imagine!”

Shadow Walker frowned and shook his head. “That seems like a lot of work for nothing. Why not just tell you?”

Tu-Swift continued with unabated enthusiasm. “Yes, but — I’m here! But what if…what if we could…what if we could put such marks on a small piece of bark, tie it to the leg of one of the hawks that Eagle Eyes trained and you could … you could send these words to Many Paths! You could tell her we are alive. You could tell her…anything that you could tell her in person.”

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Shadow Walker wrinkled up one eye. “What are you talking about? Are you suffering from being too cold?”

Cat Eyes had caught Tu-Swift’s enthusiasm. “No, no. He’s right! Tu-Swift’s right! We could use this to send our words. See. I think of a word. I put one of these signs for each sound. Now, when you look at it, you don’t think of the whole word; just think of the first sound. Now you put them together and it makes the sound of the word. You will know which word I meant.”

Shadow Walker tilted his head. “That might work. Yes. But why not just make a mark for each sign?”

Cat Eyes began talking while Tu-Swift considered this. “You could. But … I think sign language works well when you are there with the person. It doesn’t take a great imagination, if we are all wet and cold and you gesture toward firewood, we know what you mean. But how would you tell Many Paths, if she were not here, that Tu-Swift and you were both alive, had joined up with four ROI, their village had burned, and all would return by full moon?”

Shadow Walker. “I see. But that wouldn’t fit onto hawk’s leg!”

Tu-Swift said, “No, you are right. But now that we know such a thing is possible, we might find other uses or other ways to send messages some distance. Remember how we put false marks in the forest to thwart Nut-Pi?”

Shadow Walker nodded. “How do we know these marks are true? When you speak to someone, you can see the truth in their eyes. How do we know the marks are true?”

After a pause, Tu-Swift said, “That is a good question, Shadow Walker. A hard question. But a good one. When we get back, we should pose this to the entire Veritas.”

———————————————-

Books by the Author:

The Winning Weekend Warrior – strategy, tactics, & the mental game for all sports.

http://tinyurl.com/ng2heq3

Turing’s Nightmares. Speculative Sci-FI about robotics and AI that raises ethical issues.

http://tinyurl.com/hz6dg2d

Fit in Bits describes many ways to work more fun, variety, and exercise into many of your daily activities to become fitter, thinner, & healthier.

http://tinyurl.com/h6c7fce

Tales from an American Childhood recounts early experiences and then relates them to contemporary issues and events.

https://tinyurl.com/y9ajvz9j

The First Book of the Myths of the Veritas.

The Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas.

https://petersironwood.com/2017/02/25/the-invisibility-cloak-of-habit/

How we can “paint ourselves into a corner” psychologically.

Four Essays on Social Media, Propaganda, Persuasion.

Labelism

You Bet Your Life

A Lot is not a Little

My Cousin Bobby

The Game

Tu-Swift’s Dream

02 Monday Mar 2026

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

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communication, creativity, ethics, fiction, horses, leadership, legend, life, myth, short story, story, truth, writing

Tu-Swift dreamed of one of the childhood games he most loved. In the game, the children stood in a circle and one, the “beater” tapped out a complex and complicated rhythm, typically just hitting one stick on another. The “caller” then called out a series of moves. The “dancer” then had to perform the moves in time to to the rhythm. The rest critiqued the performance. Generally, the “dancer” had to repeat the moves several times before perfecting the timing. Tu-Swift almost always “got” the correct rhythm immediately. Indeed, he often added various embellishments for “style.” His only fault was sometimes performing a movement one beat too quickly. Indeed, it was this, rather than his running speed, which first encouraged his clan-mates to call him “Tu-Swift.”

Now, he had returned in his dreams to these pleasant games, but as he viewed the dream children, they made longer and ridiculously complicated rhythms. The children in the dream grew old, morphing into Veritas adults such as Shadow Walker and Fleet of Foot. The tempo accelerated until even Tu-Swift had trouble keeping up. The game had gone all wrong and they seemed to all be drumming much too quickly to follow.

A snake slithered toward the drum. Its giant fanged mouth opened wide and it reared back ready to strike. Tu-Swift heard a scream and awoke. He shook his head in the dim early light of day. He was puzzled that the children and the adults had all disappeared. He realized he had been dreaming and that the scream was his own.

Day-Nah face furrowed into a worry gully. Tu-Swift smiled and spoke reassuringly to the younger boy. Though Tu-Swift realized the youngster understood very little of the tongue of the Veritas, he hoped his tone would communicate enough. It seemed to work. The boy no longer looked frightened.

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Tu-Swift realized now that a nearby woodpecker tapped out the complex rhythms he had heard. They really were complex though. He frowned. Something was not right about this particular woodpecker. It had too many variations and the sound was too “bright” yet not loud enough to sound right.

The phrase “On the northern side” suddenly came to mind. Then, “Are you okay?” Tu-Swift began to wonder whether he was still dreaming. “Where are you?” “Answer when you can.” I am not dreaming, Tu-Swift thought to himself. Those are drums! Well, not exactly drums, but this was the drum-style of Shadow Walker! He was out there pretending to be a woodpecker and sending him messages. They had come for him!

Just then, he heard the the voices of the captors talking amongst themselves and drawing nearer to the building where the horses were kept, and where he and Day-Nah now made their home as well. Soon, the two boys were untied from the pillar and led, their feet still tethered, to the paddock where the same three burly men gestured and shouted that they were to further separate the foals from their mares. The narrow passage that Tu-Swift had engineered worked pretty well, but a few of the foals had not yet ventured into the narrow passage and would have to be encouraged to enter it. Such “encouragement” might be misinterpreted by the mares who might, in turn, bite the boys or even smash them with their hooves.

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Tu-Swift grabbed two sticks from the nearby woodpile and walked over slowly to a point outside the fence near where a mare and her foal foraged inside. He spoke gently to them, as he always did, as he approached. Now, he took the two sticks and banged them together. He glanced over at the three burly men who seemed to be more concerned with their own discussion than they were in directing the labors of the boys. Tu-Swift hoped the Veritas were still nearby for the paddock was near the northern end of camp. He tried to use his drumming so that the three who stand atop horses would think he was trying to scare the horses into separating, but meanwhile, he tapped out: “I am here. I am OK. There is a small boy here too. Horses will soon escape. Come back after dark. After moonset. We are tied at night. I can untie. We will be in large building with horses.” He repeated the message again and managed to scare the foal into the small side pen. The foal’s mother was furious and wild that she couldn’t get back to her foal and slammed her hooves into the fence. For a moment, Tu-Swift thought she would destroy the fence. But all that sound and fury, even though it came from his mother, scared the small horse further into the corner.

The burly men now came and tied the two boys back to back against a small elm tree while they threw other loops of rope around the foal and led it somewhere unknown. The mare grew frantic as the three men dragged, pushed, and scolded the foal into another place that the boys could not see, nor presumably could the mare.

Tu-Swift wanted to tell the small boy about the rescuers and the drum messages. But Day-Nah’s understanding of Veritas remained minimal. Without being able to use his hands, he didn’t think he could explain how their situation had changed. As he thought about it, Tu-Swift considered than perhaps it was better not to explain the situation. Day-Nah was almost as helpless as the foals that he had just helped capture. Who knew how he might react to such news? Tu-Swift had himself struggled not to let any joy escape his heart and make visible camp on his face.

Soon, the men returned and “freed” the two boys so they could separate another pair. Tu-Swift again wielded two sticks and repeated his message. In due course, the third and final pair were separated. Now, the boys were returned to the barn, provided a meal, and tied to a pillar so that they could only move about five feet in any direction.

Shadows grew long and the evening air grew chill. Tu-Swift busied himself teaching Day-Nah some simple commands that could prove useful if they got the chance to escape. It occurred to Tu-Swift on several occasions that they could simply leave the boy behind. But each time he considered it, such an action, while recognizing its convenience, he had no doubt that leaving Day-Nah behind would be feeding the part of himself that was the “bad wolf.”

Tu-Swift noticed that his mind always offered plausible excuses when such cowardly thoughts arose. “Let his own tribe come and save him.” “He will just slow us down.” “He’ll give away our position.” “Maybe he’ll be happier here. Who knows?” Tempting, but like the other Veritas, he had been taught at a very early age to understand that such thoughts were “Poison Ivy seeds.”

Many Paths had used that analogy showing Tu-Swift that, as is the way of many plants, poison ivy could spread by vine growth but also did sometimes sprout flowers and these flowers made white fruits which would fall to the ground and if conditions proved favorable, new vines could grow. Such seeds were poison to eat or even to touch, Many Paths had explained and so were easy rationalizations of selfishness.

The knocking of the “woodpecker” returned and tore away his reverie. Shadow Walker’s drumming continued and repeated. “We will come for you just after moonset. Be awake. Be ready.” Tu-Swift took out the small sharp stone he managed to squirrel away and tapped out his response against the pillar to which they were tied. He hoped it could be heard, for there was now much stirring and moving about in the camp as they prepared for dinner.

“Ready. We are in large building with horses. Take me to horse fence. I will set them free.”

Tu-Swift had still not found a way to communicate any of this to Day-Nah, and tried to hide his excitement. He made sure Day-Nah understood Veritas for “fast,” “slow,” “quiet,” and “hide.” After it seemed that the people who steal children were all asleep, he tapped out his message again. He hoped it sounded enough like a woodpecker not to arouse suspicion. He tried to recall whether he had ever heard a woodpecker at night but he wasn’t sure. Soon, the moon would be setting. He again emphasized “quiet” for the youngster. Then, he tried to explain escape. He had been worried the boy might shout for joy, but there was neither a shout for joy, nor, so far as Tu-Swift could see, the slightest understanding of “escape.”

Tu-Swift took his sharp stone and rapidly shredded the remaining bonds on his feet, weakened earlier by the eager teeth of the hungry horses. Each foot still sprouted a long length of rope, not ideal for running through underbrush to escape a people who stood atop horses. He had no time to cut through all the ropes but tied the loose ends as tightly as he could around his ankles to make it less likely they would trip him. Then, he began cutting through the bonds that held Day-Nah’s from full strides.

Tu-Swift saw the youngster’s eyes grow wide in the dim light. Day-Nah whispered the word for “escape” and smiled. Day-Nah’s bonds at last were also cut through and Tu-Swift tied each of the loose ends around first one and then the other of the boy’s ankles. Now, they waited. Tu-Swift listened but no drumming came. The frogs were certainly noisy tonight though!

Then, the image of Shadow Walker came to his mind. Shadow Walker had once spent an evening talking with Many Paths and Tu-Swift about snakes and frogs and made a very realistic frog sound. It suddenly hit Tu-Swift that Shadow Walker was talking to them! He was hiding his voice in the voice of the frogs! What was he saying? Of course! He was instructing them to go outside if they could and sneak back to the paddock.

After the first night, they had always been tied to a pillar at night. He had no idea whether there were nearby guards, but he had not seen or heard any evidence of such. He again emphasized to Day-Nah that they must be quiet, quiet, quiet. Just as the last moonbeams sunk beneath the forest of firs, Tu-Swift lay along the ground and looked out into the large open space next to the barn. Seeing nothing, he wriggled a bit further as the wind blew. “Patience, Tu-Swift, patience” he told himself while imagining Many Paths saying that to him.

brown frog surrounded by green floating pants on water

Photo by Richard Fletcher on Pexels.com

—————————————————————————

Essay on Feeding the “Good Wolf”

A Pattern Language for Collaboration

Imagine all the people

The Walkabout Diaries

Travels with Sadie

After All

Somewhere a Bird Cries

The Story of Story, Part 2

16 Friday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, HCI, psychology, story, Uncategorized

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AI, books, communication, education, fiction, HCI, interview, knowledge, narrative, needs, psychology, story, truth, user experience, UX, wants, writing

Introduction:

This is the second in a series about using stories and storytelling in the design, development, and the deployment of products and services. In each post, I will weave in some advice about what makes for a good story as well as how to use stories. In this first case, the emphasis is on using stories to help uncover customer needs and wants. Needs and wants are not quite the same thing. For an extremely worthwhile discussion on the difference, check out this classic article by George Furnas.

We Human Beings are not just Information Processors; we are also Energy Processors.

I had just attended a conference on “knowledge management” co-sponsored by IBM consultants and IBM Research. On the plane ride back, after finishing the crossword, I turned the page to find a full page color ad by an IBM competitor that proclaimed: “Knowledge Management is simply [sic] providing the right information to the right person at the right time.” Color me skeptical, I thought. It isn’t simple to do those things. Beyond that, the formulation seemed simplistic even in its formulation.

The image of one of my undergraduate professors flashed into my brain. Professor MacCaw, (as we will call him), taught advanced German, a language which he had learned in a Russian prison camp, which might explain his approach to testing. At semester’s end, he asked, “Who in class wants A?!”

All two dozen of us raised our hands, of course. At this point, he proceeded to — there is no other word — attack one of the students in the class who had had four years of German in high school and had also lived in Germany for two years. The contents of his questions were not really that difficult, but the manner in which he demanded the answers was horrid. He would ask, for instance, “In first story, main character went where?” (He would always ask the questions in English).

And she would begin to answer (necessarily in German), “Er geht…” And after a couple words were out of her mouth, he would scream, “Please to conjugate!” This meant that she would have to think back to the last verb she uttered and then conjugate it. “Ich gehe, Sie gehen, …” Then, he would interrupt again and scream a completely different and unrelated question in English. She would begin to answer; he would interrupt after she uttered only a few words: “Please to decline!” This meant, that she would have to give the various forms of the last noun she spoke according to the case. But once again, she could not finish but only begin declining the noun when he would once again interrupt. After 40 minutes, she was in tears and he looked menacingly around the room and asked, “NOW! Who in class STILL wants A?”

I have zero desire to go hang gliding or sky diving. But when it comes to the danger of mere social humiliation, I say, “Screw it. Been there. Done that.” I was one of only two of the remaining students who raised their hand. This act won me the next turn on the chopping block. He proceeded the same whip-saw questioning fest with me. The two-period class was almost over when he finished with me and began questioning “Mr. Lepke.” The bell rang and everyone else in the class left. Later that evening, I chanced to see Professor MacCaw in the Student Union. He walked up to me, eyes blazing. “Ha! I had Mr. Lepke after class for two hours! Finally, he said to me, ‘No, No, Dr. MacCaw, no more, I beg you. No more!’”

This oral exam was difficult (even with my “screw it” attitude). It was much “harder” than my dissertation defense, for example. Again, it was not the information requested but the manner of questioning that made it difficult. People are not emotionless robots, as it turns out.

The next semester, not surprisingly, only about half the class returned. One day in class, as Dr. MacCaw began one of his lengthy digressions on Eastern European history, he stopped himself in mid-sentence to say, “What is THIS!? Someone is passing notes in my class! I will take note and read in front of entire class!” He snatched the note, unfolded it, and indeed read the note in his loud ringing voice: “Doctor MacCaw: your zipper is down.” And, indeed it was. He had meant to humiliate someone in front of the entire class — and he had succeeded. He had the necessary information delivered at the right time to the right person, but — thanks to his own actions — it had not been done in the best manner — at least not the best manner for him.

Human beings are not just information processors. We are living things and as such, the emotions, the vibes, the manner, the intensity of presentation — these are all vital to how we will react at the time and also how we will feel about the people involved and what we will recall years later. And this fact also means that the atmosphere you create when you interact with various stakeholders will vastly impact the quality of the insights and stories that you receive. If you really care about the people and are really committed to doing something to making people’s lives better; if you are truly open to hear and take in something unexpected or even disruptive to the project; and if you allow your informant to feel that truth about you, you will obtain the gold ring.

Stakeholder Stories Solicited at their Sites.

If you use a mechanical method and a mechanical tone and a mechanical manner to ask your users and other stakeholders about their needs and wants, what you will uncover are the most mundane, most rudimentary, most superficial and socially acceptable needs and wants. You can indeed use this information to design a product or service, and you may even have a product or service that succeeds in the marketplace. It will likely be, however, a rather short-lived “win.” Why? Because you are designing to fulfill wants that are subject to the wild winds of passing fashion rather than to catch the fire of an underlying passion.

What I found for myself was that it typically took about an hour of talking with a stakeholder, and most importantly, listening attentively, before they began to tell me their real stories. Your mileage may differ according to culture, context, power relations, your personality, and so on. I like to use a semi-structured interview. In this type of interview, there are known questions that I want to ask. But I also schedule plenty of time to let them elaborate, tell me what’s what behind the scenes. I know that in the corporate world, there is an ever-present push for being “efficient” and getting the job done as quickly as possible. So, it’s tempting to get the informant “back on track.”

I always prefer to interview an informant in their workplace. This seems like common courtesy; it puts them more at ease; and it sometimes reveals their use of other people, references, private notes, etc. as well as what they are dealing with in terms of atmosphere, noise levels, interruptions, desk space, etc. It also makes it much more likely that they can retrieve more of their own memories about work incidents more accurately because of all the contextual cues.

John Whiteside, who ran the Usability group for Digital Equipment Corporation for a time, recounts running various usability studies and gathering data in various ways about a product they were designing for manuscript centers (places where human beings, historically almost always women, transcribed the dictation of others into text on a computer so that it could be edited, re-written, stored, etc.). The first time that they visited their users in the field, they discovered that they spent about seven hours a day typing and about an hour every day counting up, by hand, the number of lines they had typed. So, in one instant, they realized a feature that would improve productivity significantly.

Guidelines for Soliciting Stakeholder Stories.

When I managed the storytelling project at IBM Research, I was fortunate enough to hire Deborah Lawrence to help with the project. She thought it would be a cool idea to interview experts in a number of fields whose job, in one way or another, involves soliciting stories. So, she went out and did just that. I believe that her interviewees included medical doctors, policeman, reporters, social workers, and psychotherapists. These various practitioners had very similar guidelines.

Story Elicitation Guidelines:

Provide a “warm-up” period.
Tell something personal and revealing about yourself; perhaps tell a story that is a model of the kind of story you’re looking for.
Observe an implicit contract of trust.
Provide a motivation for the story — why it’s important.
Accept the storyteller’s story and worldview. Don’t resist the story.
Reveal who you are, how the story will be used, potential audience and goals, answer questions.
Use questions to probe. Sometimes, a totally “off the wall” question can create space for story to emerge.
Empower the storyteller — they are the expert.
Avoid threat; don’t appear as an expert yourself.
Listen with avid interest.

These may seem fairly obvious such as does a lot of the advice in the book, How to Win Friends and Influence People. (Come to think of it, that might be the single best book you can read if you want a career in HCI/UX). However — back to the guidelines. I think they seem obvious once pointed out, in much the same way that once someone points out the “pig in the clouds” (or the face in the tree) you cannot not see it.

The above list is not, of course, meant to be the definitive such list. This was based on one study. If you have additional guidelines or disagreements, please let me know.

Author Page on Amazon

The Walkabout Diaries

The Myths of the Veritas

Imagine All the People

The Primacy Effect and The Destroyer’s Advantage

I Say: Hello! You Say: “What City Please?”

09 Tuesday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, creativity, design rationale, HCI, management, psychology, Uncategorized, user experience

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art, communication, conversation, Design, efficiency, HCI, human factors, photography, primacy, problem framing, problem solving, sensemaking, technology, thinking, UX

In the not so distant past, people would often call directory assistance operators. These operators would find a number for you. For an additional charge, they would dial it for you. In fact, this was a very commonly used system. Phone companies would have large rooms filled with such operators who worked very hard and very politely, communicating with what was often a hostile and irrational public.

Customer: “I have to get the number of that bowling alley right near where the A&P used to be before they moved into that new shopping center.”

Operator: “Sir, you haven’t told me what town you’re in. Anyway…”

Customer: “What town?! Why I’m right here in Woburn where I’ve always been!”

There were so many operators that the phone companies wanted their processes to be efficient. Operators were trained to be friendly and genial but not chatty. The phone companies searched for better keyboards and better screen layouts to shave a second here or there off the average time it took to handle a call.

There are some interesting stories in that attempt but that we will save for another article, but here I want to tell you what made the largest single impact on the average time per call. Not a keyboard. Not a display. Not an AI system.

It was simply changing the greeting.

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Operators were saying something like: “New England Telephone. How can I help you?”

After our intervention, operators instead said, “What city please?” It’s shorter and it’s takes less time to say. But the big change was not in how long the operator took to ask the question. The biggest savings was how this change in greeting impacted the customer’s behavior.

When the operator begins with “How can I help you?” the customer, or at least some fraction of them, are put into a frame of mind of a conversation. They might respond thusly:

“Oh, well, you know my niece is getting married! Yeah! In just a month, and she still hasn’t shopped for a dress! Can you believe it? So, I need the number for that — if it were up to me, I would go traditional, but my niece? She’s — she’s going avant-garde so I need the number of that dress shop on Main Street here in Arlington.”

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With the “What City Please?” greeting, the customer was apparently put into a more businesslike frame of mind and answers more succinctly. They now understand their role as proving information in a joint problem solving task with the operator. A typical answer would now be:

“Arlington.”

“In Arlington, what listing?”

“Dress shop on Main Street.”

The way in which a conversation begins signals what type of conversation it is to be. We know this intuitively. Suppose you walked up to an old friend and they begin with: “Name?” You would be taken aback. On the other hand, suppose you walk up to the line at the DMV and the clerk says, “Hey, have you seen that latest blog post by J. Charles Thomas on problem framing?” You would be equally perplexed!

Conversation can be thought of partly as a kind of mutual problem solving exercise. And, before that problem solving even begins, one party or the other will tend to “frame” the conversation. That framing can be incredibly important.

Even the very first words can cause someone to frame what kind of a conversation this is meant to be.

Words matter.

https://petersironwood.com/2018/02/13/context-setting-entrance/

Essays on America: Wednesday

After the Fall

The Crows and Me

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Come Back to the Light

Imagine All the People…

The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie

Donnie Visits Granny!

You Must Remember This

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

Parametric Recipes and American Democracy

Secret Sauce

04 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by petersironwood in driverless cars, psychology, The Singularity

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, communication, Cooking, ethics, integrity, interaction, marketing, sauce, science, technology, the singularity

No need to panic, thought Harvey. Ada should be back soon. Or, I can go to a neighbor. I am not going to freeze to death on my own front porch. Harvey shivered just then as another icy blast hit him. He turned and scanned the neighborhood. Crumpled cars blocked the streets. None of the houses in his immediate area were lit. Wasn’t this the season of lights? I suppose one of the motorists could help if any of their cars is still in working order. And they were willing to break the law and leave the scene of an accident. And they had sense enough to have snow tires.

He stamped his feet on the concrete. Harvey told himself that this was to keep circulation going, and not some childish outburst of frustration. He looked down the street and saw two dim figures approaching arm in arm from the direction of the Von Neumann’s house. As they drew nearer, he heard the warm voice of his sweet Ada.

“Hey, Harv! Did you decide to come out and enjoy the winter beauty too?”

“Hi, Ada. Please tell me you have a key.”

“Sure. I always take my keys when I leave the house.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t want to lock myself out.” She chuckled again. “Guess what? I found Lucy out for a walk too and I invited her over for dinner.”

“Hi, Lucy. Sure. We’re just having mainly mixed veggies for dinner, but if that’s okay…”

Lucy smiled. “Great with me, Harvey. Thanks!”

Ada spoke again, “Come on Harv. It’s beautiful outside but we’re cold. Let’s go in! Besides too much traffic out here for my taste. What a crash! Say, isn’t that …in fact, aren’t those two blue cars ones that you worked on? I thought they were supposed to be uncrashable.”

Harvey sighed. “Well, nothing is uncrashable. AI cannot undo the laws of physics. No doubt, some human driver without proper tires or following too close started a chain reaction.”

Ada said, “Yeah. Let’s discuss this inside. Okay?”

“Sure,” said Harvey. “Can you get the door?”

“Well, okay. Oh! You didn’t lock yourself out did you?” Ada laughed in soprano and Lucy added the alto line. “You picked a great night for it.”

“I’ll explain inside.”

Ada unlocked the door. In the trio went, shook off their snow, removed their boots and headed into the kitchen. Harvey began unloading vegetables from the fridge while Ada turned on some Holiday music. “Hey, Harv, how about the three of us stand JCN at trivia while you cook?”

Harvey did not really want to explain that he may have accidentally wiped out their bank account with Lucy in the room. “No, let’s just talk. Let JCN go dream or whatever it is he does. I just feel like human voices tonight.”

“Okay, Hon. Did you see the accident? How it started?”

“No, I was inside when I heard the crash, and then, I started to worry about you so….Anyway, Lucy, any vegetables you don’t like? Sweet potato okay? And cilantro? And how about curry sauce?”

“All, good, Harvey. I’m easy. Anything is fine with me.”

Harvey stole a quick glance at Lucy. Was that a double entrendre? Surely not. He was imagining things. “Cool. I’ll start with the sweet potatoes. They take a little longer.”

Harvey quickly filled the skillet with a little olive oil and some orange flavored bubbly water, added the spices and began cleaning and chopping.

Ada said, “Harvey makes a really good sauce for vegetables.”

Harvey, meanwhile, focused on not adding his finger to the mix. His mind was elsewhere. He wondered whether the pile-up outside had really been caused by human error or…

Lucy chimed in. “Sounds delicious, Harvey. What’s in your secret sauce? I’d love to have it.”

Harvey frowned slightly, “Well, there’s no real secret. Secret sauce. Secret sauce. Why do people have sauces? Did you ever consider that?”

Ada laughed again. The Holidays seemed to make her genuinely happy. “No, I haven’t, but I’m sure you are about to tell us.”

Harvey continued to chop sweet potato, as he began, “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with Sing. No secret sauce. No sauce at all, in fact.”

Lucy spoke up, “What? What are you talking about, Harvey? You want to put your sauce into a computer system? Well, I’m sure I’d love it, but I’m not so sure about the Sing.” Now Lucy and Ada both laughed.

Harvey continued, “You see what the water does?”

Lucy wanted to play along. “Cooks the vegetables? That would be my guess.” Lucy and Ada laughed again.

“Exactly!” agreed Harvey, “but how? Do you see? Water boils at 100 C. No matter what the heat is, it never gets hotter in the pan than 100 degrees. The sauce gaurantees a constant cooking environment.”

Lucy seemed uncertain. “But you can make it hotter by turning up the flame, right?”

“No. No. It may boil more vigorously and I’ll run out of sauce sooner, but the temperature will remain constant. That’s one effect. But there’s more. The sauce guarantees a constancy of interaction!”

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Ada asked, “Interaction? You are saying the sauce let’s the veggies talk to each other?”

In the background, “We Three Kings” began its mournful minor musings. “Yes,” mused Harvey. “Exactly. I mean, they obviously do not literally talk, but imagine these vegetables are cooking and there is no sauce. In some cases, you have a piece of sweet potato next to a piece of red pepper so they share flavors. In another case, a piece of sweet potato is next to broccoli so they share flavors. The sauce provides a way for all these vegetables to exchange flavors evenly throughout the whole dish. And the key. The key in music. All the notes “know” what the key is so the choice is limited by this global structure. And the beat of course. Everything works in harmony. All because of the secret sauce! But there is no secret! It’s been right in front of us the whole time!”

Ada was no longer laughing. “You’re probably right, Harv, but are you feeling okay? Maybe you got a little hypothermia out there?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Don’t you see? The rhythm and the beat of the music! They provide a coherent overall structure for all of these different instruments and notes to play nicely together.”

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Lucy added, “Well, I for one am all for playing nicely together.”

Harvey stopped chopping for a moment. “Exactly! There are global rules that make the individual parts work together. And, the curry sauce not only provides a consistent basis for the dish. It also dictates, or at least influences, which elements I add to the vegetables. Some vegetables are not going to taste right or look to be the right color with curry sauce. And, it lets them all communicate in a common language. You see? We humans see something like cars crumpled up and hear the crash and we can put the two together. Right?”

Ada had lots of experience with the way Harvey’s mind worked so she realized he was quite serious. Lucy, on the other hand, assumed he was just trying to be funny or had had a couple martinis before she arrived on the scene. So Lucy decided to play along, “Well, Harvey, all this talk about your secret sauce is giving me an appetite. Any ETA on dinner?”

Harvey continued, “But the Sing doesn’t have any secret sauce. Nor JCN. There is no overall way for the various pieces of knowledge to work together in a harmonious whole. That’s why JCN wiped out our bank account! That’s probably why the cars crashed too.”

“Smells delicious, Harvey,” Lucy said.

Ada was beginning to forget about dinner. “Harvey. What did you say about our bank account?”

“The Sing needs a way for the parts to work together in a harmonious overall structure! Otherwise, any slight error can be magnified in particular cases. Once the system tries to operate on cases that are outside of what was imagined at design time, there is no gaurantee about results!”

“Harvey. Go back to the part about our bank account.”

Harvey stirred the vegetables absent-mindedly. “If I let this sauce all boil away, the same thing will happen. Some vegetables will get burned. The taste and texture will no longer work together.”

Ada was not to be deterred. “Harvey. Tell me about our bank account. What do you mean that it was wiped out?”

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“Yes, Ada! That’s what I am saying. Of course, there are rules and the rules cover a huge number of cases. But there is no overall set of principles that the Sing has to abide by. There is no secret sauce! There is no sauce of any kind. It’s ALL vegetables. I think dinner is ready. Lucy did you want yogurt or cheese on yours?”

“Yum. Give it to me with yogurt please.”

“Okay, Lucy. And I know Ada likes hers that way too.”

“Right you are Harvey. What about our bank account?”

Harvey’s eyes looked away from the mind maps he was drawing in his head and he looked at Ada directly. “Ada, let’s eat first. I am sure that we can restore our bank account somehow through back up systems. JCN made an error. But I didn’t transfer the money or really authorize any payments or anything like that. It’s just a bank error. But for now, let’s eat. We can recover, Ada, because the human systems that surround and control the Sign still include sauce. At least for now.”

In the background, “Joy to the World” began playing in 4/4 time in D major.

Author page

Welcome, Singularity

Corn on the Cob

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Finding the Mustard