• About PeterSIronwood

petersironwood

~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

petersironwood

Tag Archives: Democracy

Jaccim Knows the Way

01 Friday May 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

communiation, cooperation, Democracy, dialogue, diversity, fantasy, fiction, leadership, legends, life, myths, peace, politics, problem solving, sense making, short story, stories, strategy, tactics, tales, truth, Veritas, war, writing

photo of trees and mountain

Photo by Brandon Montrone on Pexels.com

Among the several dialogues brought on by recent revelations — Killing Sticks, Walled City, Tamed Horses, and Drawings that Talk — the one that Tu-Swift invariably participated in dealt with Other Veritas. Tu-Swift did find the topic itself of considerable interest but his main motivation was that he would see, and sit beside, Cat Eyes. 

Cat Eyes seemed to him exotic, not just because of her amazing eyes, but also because she had lived in such different circumstances from most of the people he knew. He found the other two ROI women someone exotic too, but it was slow work understanding each other and they just never held the magic that he felt for Cat Eyes.

Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes also shared a life-altering experience that Tu-Swift’s other friends could not really fathom — being torn from family and thrown into a small box. They were both forced to do something for others. Though they had both hated that, they both learned something as well. Tu-Swift had learned much about horses and he had freely told his tale to the Veritas and answered all the questions that anyone asked him: Sooz, Cat Eyes, Many Paths  — he would tell anyone who asked. In fact, he rather enjoyed the attention. 

Cat Eyes had learned something about this strange new way of communicating using the “Drawings that Talk” and they were working together to understand the small bit of such drawings that they had. But when Tu-Swift asked her mundane and seemingly easy questions about her time with the Z-Lotz, she would often get a faraway look in her eyes, say something vague and then ask him another question. It piqued his curiosity because she recalled some things in extreme detail such as the very large dwelling within the Walled City where she lived for several years. But when he asked her whether she had her own partition, she claimed she couldn’t recall. 

86A389C7-4CD7-42E3-ABFA-A555A5BB24CB

Tu-Swift found himself slightly suspicious. If she wasn’t being honest about her memory, maybe she just made up the tale of the other tribe of Veritas. Yet, he felt sure that story was true. He wanted to go on an expedition to see such for himself. 

Many children, having been stolen from their own tribe would become fearful and timid. Tu-Swift however, perhaps because he had an active role in his own escape, felt as though he desperately needed to learn more about the world. If there were things such as People Who Steal Children, and Killing Sticks — things that could tear his family apart and tear his tribe apart — things that he had never known about, he wanted to learn as much as possible about as many things as possible. And the Veritas over the Twin Peaks intrigued him. Perhaps they also had Killing Sticks — or even more powerful weapons. Or, yet another way of communicating. 

In wanting to learn more about the Veritas of Cat Eyes, Tu-Swift was hardly alone. As the tribe discussed trying to reconnect with this lost tribe, nearly everyone wanted to do it, but they were also much moved by the words of Cat Eyes who had described that people had died in the past trying to find their way back. Though abducted young, Cat Eyes was sure that she had not been taken over this melting glacier. She had been strapped on the back of a horse and had caught random glimpses of woods and fields. From the tale of Shadow Walker, as confirmed by his companions, the People Who Steal Children are exceptionally bad at hiding their tracks. That makes for a curious dilemma. Why did these Veritas not try to find Cat Eyes when she was stolen? 

It was argued that, of course, such a rescue party — perhaps several — may have followed them and fallen into a trap. Cat Eyes had no way to know. They could not solve the mysteries until they had a chance to dialogue with these Veritas of the mountain, but no-one could find a good plan to get there. Essentially, the same dozen people had met three times and talked themselves in the same circles. 

186DDAB7-08D8-436A-8F97-5D0C9B552F1F

Now, they sat for a time in reflective silence. While in silence, Jaccim approached their circle and caught the eye of Tu-Swift. Jaccim gestured for him to come over. Tu-Swift glanced at Cat Eyes and wordlessly asked her to accompany him. Jaccim and Tu-Swift could each make themselves understood to the other, but it took time. It would be more efficient with Cat Eyes there to translate. Jaccim realized, of course, that Tu-Swift was no longer his captive. In many ways, their roles were reversed though Jaccim was free to roam among the Veritas. Tu-Swift was working with Jaccim to construct a suitable place for their horses. Besides the mare & colt that had come with them, another stallion and a mare had found their way to the Veritas. Jaccim had reached the point in training where he could use Tu-Swift who seemed to have an innate talent for rapprochement with the creatures. 

The last thing he wanted to do was to impose on Tu-Swift which would remind Tu-Swift and possibly others that Jaccim was of the People Who Steal Children. He never thought of himself that way but he understood others might. He’d rather be known as someone who could make a contribution. Jaccim therefore asked if they were done with their dialogue for now. He observed nothing was being said. Times of silent reflection were not common among the ROI so he assumed that they were likely “done” but he did not want to be disrespectful of their ways.

Cat Eyes explained to Jaccim the dilemma that they had been discussing and explained that they were thinking silently of how to communicate or reach the Veritas by the Twin Peaks. Jaccim frowned and said, in ROI, “Why not just take the path the ROI take? We could go there on horses once these are trained in a few weeks. We wouldn’t have to steal children.” 

Instead of translating into Veritas forTu-Swift’s benefit, Cat Eyes began having an excited conversation with Jaccim in ROI. At last, Cat Eyes told Tu-Swift the good news. Then, she grabbed Jaccim by the arm and brought him into the circle. She explained to everyone that this man knew a way to ride horses into the land of the Veritas who lived near the Twin Peaks. She might find her home or she might find only an empty place, once lived in, but now deserted. 

mountain covered with snow

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Where Do You Draw the Line?

The Orange Man

The Forgotten Field

Tools of Thought: Many Paths

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Who Won the War?

After All

The Crows and Me

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

The Isle of Right

The Dance of Billions

The Walkabout Diaries: Mindwalk

Travels with Sadie: Taking Turns

Bohm Dialogue

 

  

Freedom and Local Knowledge

16 Thursday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, essay, politics, psychology

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

autocracy, Democracy, Dictatorship, fascism, freedom, garden, life, nature, politics, truth, USA, writing

Consider the photograph below. Tell me what you see and think about what you infer based on the combination of your perception of the photo and your general knowledge. You might want to jot it down. 

Let’s do a similar exercise based on the photograph below. Again, what is your take-away? I’ll give you a hint. I live in the San Diego area and these photos were taken just a couple days ago (early April, 2026) near where I live. 

I took the first photo coming out of the grocery store after doing the shopping. What I “saw” pleased me. I “saw” that my car had an empty parking space on both sides. That makes loading the car from the grocery cart easier. My car is the dark Lexus just beyond the large red pick-up truck. I can recognize my car from almost any small portion of it. 

I took the second photo on a Wednesday afternoon. It shows me that it’s still sunny out. It also shows that the gardeners have done with the work and left. The last thing they do is to take out  to the curb the lawn trash, the garbage can, and the recycling bin. I can’t see the bins, but I can see the shadows of the bins. When the gardeners come, I open the gate to the garden. Since they are now gone, I plan to take the dogs out in the back. I will first have to re-shut the garden gate so they don’t go bounding out of the garden into the street. 

There’s very little chance that you would have any way to figure out what these stimuli mean to me in my context and constraints and goals. And that’s okay. You have hundreds of goals, constraints, and habits that I know nothing about. 

It would be absurd for me to try to direct your life and it would be equally absurd for you to try to direct mine. Luckily, we live in a free country. Of course, there are some constraints on that freedom. It’s not legal for me to go steal stuff from my neighbors nor is it legal for them to steal things from me. But in many areas, large and small, each of is free to do as we wish. My neighbors might take their own trash cans out to the street and do it on their own schedule. 

Not everyone on the planet is lucky enough to live in a free country. 

A dictatorship seeks to control everything about your life. They do not take into account your goals, your context, your habits, your preferences, your constraints. They don’t care. They have neither the knowledge nor the desire to put in place controls that will be right for me. They won’t be right for you either. They won’t be right for anyone.

Except themselves. That’s what dictatorships do. They take power in order to control you, enslave you, and steal from you. 

And, if they feel like it, they’re perfectly fine shooting you in the face after you wish them a Good day.

——————

Finding the Mustard

The Self-Made Man

Author Page

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Travels with Sadie Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries Natural Variation

All We Stand to Lose

Dick-Taters

Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

FREEDOM! 

The Self-Made Man

The Orange Man

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

The Dance of Billions

An Open Sore from Hell

Roar, Ocean, Roar! 

Imagine All the People

Lion Slayer & Eagle Eyes Return

13 Monday Apr 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

America, Democracy, empathy, fantasy, fiction, leadership, legends, management, myths, politics, power, story, strategy, tactics, USA, Veritas, writing

Although Lion Slayer had not specifically been tested or trained the way that Eagle Eyes had been, since he was a human being, he could read the excitement on the visage of Eagle Eyes as she crouched down, turned back and scurried back toward him. 

60BBE396-CC08-43F0-BB72-B2CA37D7B5FC

“What did you see? What’s there?” asked Lion Slayer. 

“I saw an old friend. The Mountain of Twin Peaks. We are only two days from our Center Place. Sorry, I mean…well, the Center Place of the Veritas. Who knows? Perhaps we will soon see all our friends. Let me return to the crest and scan the horizon for trouble for a while. If all looks well, we should continue our journey.”

“I pray to soon see once again Hudah Salem and that she is well. And, for Fleet-of-Foot as well.”

Soon, they both lay on their bellies at the crest and scanned the land below them for any signs of trouble. It occurred to Eagle Eyes that Lion Slayer was unlikely to see something that escaped her own eyes, but she kept that to herself. And, she could well be wrong. Just because she could see details and patterns that escaped most people did not prove he was incapable of recognizing patterns that she could not see. After all, he had spent years seeing patterns in a different environment than she had. He might well see dangers that she would have missed. As Shadow Walker discovered, a snake may find you by your heat. She imagined for a moment being a snake finding Lion Slayer by his heat. That line of though, for some odd reason,  reminded her that Lion Slayer looked strong and handsome.

E4B07C37-8061-4923-B1D1-EF1CFD4EB0B5

After a time, they glanced at each other, smiled, and nodded to signal their agreement that it was time to move forward. Though they had spotted no trouble, because they were visible on this downslope for a good distance in many directions, they moved only when the wind stirred and kept from moving in lock-step. Soon, they reached the cover of a large wood. They entered the forest in good spirits. Eagle Eyes had reassured Lion Slayer that they would very soon reach lands that she was intimately familiar with. 

“If we’re lucky,” she claimed, “we may make tomorrow night’s feast!

————————————————————

Meanwhile, Trunk of Tree had somehow convinced himself that he would make a better leader than Many Paths. Try as he might, he could not convince others to share this opinion. All he did as he sought out support was to distance himself from others and encourage them to distrust him. Prior to his questioning of Many Paths, he had actually been popular and well-respected among the Veritas, both for his strength and for his not inconsiderable military instincts. But this campaign, he reflected, is going very badly for me. He brooded on his failure and recalled that ALT-R had used POND MUD in his various schemes. As he paced back and forth along a line of wild blueberries, he turned the problem this way and that. Aloud, he said, “Who can be my POND MUD?” 

mudface

As chance would have it, Many Paths had come with Easy Tears to pick some blueberries and overheard his odd question. Preoccupied as he was, Trunk of Tree did not notice their presence. Many Paths found herself tempted to keep around the bend out of sight to see whether Trunk of Tree would say anything else. But she felt a mild dishonesty fringed such an action so she playfully announced, “Well, met, Trunk of Tree. I don’t think that things ended well for POND MUD, nor for ALT-R either. But I am sorry if you are mourning him. I felt bad that we lost both of them to the forces of greed and deception. In the end, it was as though they were the spawn of The Orange Man.” 

Trunk of Tree glanced back and forth between the two young maids and his cheeks reddened. “Well, I’m not really mourning him. I was just curious — do you know anything about their friendship? I mean, I don’t see why POND MUD did whatever ALT-R said. Do you understand it?” 

“Not fully,” answered Many Paths truthfully. “I did find out that POND MUD somehow got it in his head — well, because ALT-R told him so — that ALT-R had saved his life. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am almost certain that ALT-R tricked POND MUD into getting in the quicksand in the first place. And he could easily have pulled him out with a vine or brach or rope, but he made POND MUD really scared and convinced him he had to literally put his face in the mud in order to get out.”

“So….? Did you set him straight?” asked Trunk of Tree. 

“I tried to. I think many people told him the same thing. But he kept asking more people. He was looking for a certain answer — that ALT-R had saved his life. But no-one else thought so. That just made him — somehow — believe ALT-R … harder? Is that the word? As though he insisted on hanging on to this false belief. I don’t fully understand that part.”  

closeup photography blueberry fruits

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

The three of them began silently partaking of the delicious berries. After a time, Many Paths said, “Have you ever started to lose your balance and then the harder you try to right yourself, the more out of balance you become? It felt a little bit like that. POND MUD couldn’t help himself and when he did, he began to feel guilty — as though he were betraying his friend ALT-R to even consider whether he had been telling the truth. Ironic, eh? ALT-R was using him — abusing him really. But whenever POND MUD thought along those lines, he felt guilty so … so he was more peaceful inside to just believe the lies of ALT-R. I don’t really know, Trunk of Tree, but that is my surmise.”

“How stupid of POND MUD!” exclaimed Trunk of Tree, a trifle too loudly, it seemed to Many Paths. 

“Indeed,” answered Many Paths. “I feel sorry for him. I keep wondering what I could have said to allow him to see the truth that was staring him in the face.”

Trunk of Tree got a faraway look in his eye. “Perhaps you didn’t properly use the Rings of Empathy. Maybe…just maybe it takes actual physical strength to force insight onto someone.” 

Easy Tears frowned and tilted her head at that comment. Many Paths gave a sardonic smile. “You might be right, Trunk of Tree. I do not have such an understanding from She Who Saves Many Lives. It’s not…It’s just a ring. Well, seven of them. I use them to … connect with people; not control them. I have never tried to use them in the way that you propose.”

“Exactly. You’ve never even tried. That’s the problem with women. You and She Who Saves Many Lives aren’t using the true power of the rings. If a man had them — a man who had power in his heart and soul and body, he could make people see the truth. That’s why I think I should be leader. I would not be afraid to use the power of the rings.” 

tornado on body of water during golden hour

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Many Paths reached into the crevice between her breasts and pulled on a leather thong. Out through the neck of her tunic a small leather pouch popped. “Well, let’s try your experiment then. Here. Easy Tears is enjoying those blueberries. As am I. But here, borrow the rings and see whether you can convince her they are no good.” 

“What? You can do that? You would do that? You would give me the Rings of Empathy? You’re a fool, but thank you.” He held out his hand and Many Paths plonked down the pouch into Trunk of Trees ample hand. “I’m not giving them to you. I’m lending them. Have a go.” 

Trunk of Tree could hardly believe his good fortune. He had plotted and schemed to obtain the Rings of Empathy and Many Paths had given them to him. He thought: I can get everything now. He held all the rings in his hands and begin concentrating as he intoned, “Easy Tears, you do not like the blueberries. You hate them in fact. You will give all of yours to me.” 

Easy Tears began trembling. She fell to the ground and muttered in a strange voice, “I love blueberries. Oh, no, I hate blueberries. I love them. I hate them. No, no. The power of the ring is too strong. Oh, they are burning me. The blueberries are setting me on fire. Oh, no!” She began rolling uncontrollably on the ground. 

1E99532E-B1E7-47FF-8698-2B20283E07FC

Many Paths could see that Easy Tears was convulsing with silent laughter.  Many Paths quickly knelt down beside her and whispered into the ear of Easy Tears “Don’t humiliate him. Break it to him gently.” 

Trunk of Tree held his hands high and shouted with joy. “You See. You see. I can harness the magic of the Rings.” 

Easy Tears was laughing so hard now that her face was wet with tears and she couldn’t catch her breath. 

Many Paths considered joining in the fun and leading on Trunk of Tree. In some fundamental way, that would be cruel. Wasn’t it just as wrong to bully Trunk of Tree with her superior insight into human nature as it would be if he used his superior strength to bully someone? Among many possibilities she considered that she wanted to sow doubt in his mind quickly but also gently. “Do you remember, Trunk of Tree, that wrestling trick you taught me when we were kids? I think you called it “willow wand”? Is that right? And the harder someone rushed at you…”

“Why are you asking about wrestling?” sneered Trunk of Tree.  Did you see how I bent her mind with these rings? I don’t understand why you never tried it. Or, maybe you did but you’re not strong enough to make it work.”

Many Paths sighed. 

“Trunk of Tree,” she began, and noted that a hint of exasperation had crept into her voice. She tried to concentrate on what she admired about Trunk of Tree and spoke again, this time with genuine affection. “Trunk of Tree, you know what a great jokester Easy Tears is and how she has facility to fool others with play acting. Right?” 

IMG_3191

“What are you saying? That she faked it? That was a real curse. Look at her even now, she writhes in pain. I am sorry, Easy Tears. I didn’t know how powerful I would be with the rings.” 

“Oh, Trunk of Tree,” chuckled Easy Tears, “You went along with my play-acting splendidly. I think we may have really fooled Many Paths there for a moment. Right, Many Paths? Admit it. You thought, just for a moment that maybe they really were magic. Come on. Admit it.” 

Many Paths nodded and smiled. Easy Tears had some brilliant thoughts. She thought: This way, I can ‘take the fall’ for the joke and save Trunk of Tree’s pride, provided only he’s smart enough to play along. “You did. You did. For a moment there, you two had me going. What’s that sound? Drums. Listen. Two of our own approach. It’s Lion Slayer and Eagle Eyes. They’ve returned. Let’s go hear their tale.”

Many Paths turned and ran toward the Center Place of the Veritas, deftly snatching her pouch with the Seven Rings of Empathy out of Trunk of Tree’s hand before he could even react. Soon, Easy Tears and Trunk of Tree were running behind her, eager to hear what news they had brought. At least for now, Trunk of Tree’s thirst for power seemed to her to have evaporated like a morning mist under the rising sun. Many Paths felt happy and grateful but for some reason, a seemingly random thought came to her:

“Winter is coming.” 

86A389C7-4CD7-42E3-ABFA-A555A5BB24CB


Author Page on Amazon.

The Myth of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field. 

The Orange Man.

The First Ring of Empathy

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

A Query on Quislings

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

Satire Slain; Fans Mourn Death of Genre

What About the Butter Dish?

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

The Walkabout Diaries:

Travels with Sadie

Donny Takes a Blue Ribbon in Spelling

Imagine All the People…

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

Guernica

All We Stand to Lose

Who Won the War?

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Fish Have No Word for Water

 

Myths of the Veritas: When Eagles Return

10 Friday Apr 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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. 

silhouette of bird above clouds

Photo by Flo Maderebner on Pexels.com

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.” 

animal avian bald eagle beak

Photo by Anthony on Pexels.com

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. 

A7A8D582-4B4A-4A7C-99CD-F4B9ADB9E82A

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. 

IMG_1496

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

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

 

————————————————

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

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

Author Page on Amazon

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

At Least He’s Our Monster

Come Together Right Now

The Isle of Right

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Truth Train

A Lot is Not a Little

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

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

Join the Throng and Sing the Song

27 Friday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, life, music, poem, poetry, politics, truth, writing

Stolen files 

Strong denials 

Murderous lies of pedophiles

And there were promises for all

All along the nonsense wall

The dreams of Dreamers

Screaming in the lethal night

While crusaders stealing 

Trailing long red streamers

Illegally dealing 

Pretending to fight for the Right

The wheel will turn

The time will come 

The music will hum

The fire will burn

Christmas decorations all blood red

Gardens of roses ground to dust

Pastures of plenty planted with lust

Prosperity drizzled and died 

Perfidy raged unchecked instead

Hate reared its ugly orange head

Revealing the cancerous rot inside

And all around this hellscape pranced

The greedy few who never glanced

At those who died from bullets & bombs

Tearing the infants from pleading moms

The wheel will turn

The time will come 

The music will hum

The fire will burn

Thrashing our friends 

While hugging the thugs

The sicko prances and pretends

Apes Mussolini with mindless mugs

Your taxes all frittered 

Away on a whim

Cajoles the embittered

It’s all for him

Thousands of times he lied and he lied

And real people died

Thousands and thousands for the price of his pride

He cares not a whit

Nor even a half

He has not a wit

Nor even a half

His words are clouds that wisp in the wind

His actions alone write his own epitaph 

There isn’t a virtue that he hasn’t sinned

He licks at the hooves of a gold-painted calf

The wheel will turn

The time will come 

The music will hum

The fire will burn

The people awake 

Their blinders they shed

The people this March 

Their shackles they shake

Prove power instead

The people will march

Lady Liberty—her torch at last is lit

The bell of freedom rings the land

The music plays from every band 

The drummer drums on every kit


The watchfire burns

Everyone learns


Power is ours if only we take it

America works if only we make it


Come and join in joyous song

Come and join the millions strong

Come and be where you belong


Come and help us right the wrong

Come and join in joyous song

The Ailing King of Agitate

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

The Dance of Billions

An Open Sore from Hell

Myths of the Veritas: Many Pains for Many Paths

23 Monday Mar 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bohm Dialogue, Democracy, dialogue, discussion, faith, fiction, leadership, life, politics, story, truth

IMG_4108

Many Paths awoke in a start and saw that all around her, there was a rosy glow. Why? Her heart raced when a fire-image crept into her mind. She scrambled up and peered outside. Ah. The rosy glow was merely from an unusually beautiful sunrise. She smiled at herself, happy that the alarm had been false. She looked down at her right hand and noticed the studded club in her hand. She had no recollection of having grabbed it. 

Many Paths suddenly shook her head. She shocked herself to realize that there was a small part of her that was actually sorry it hadn’t been an emergency of some sort. 

{Translator’s Note}: The Veritas were apparently all taught from earliest years to acknowledge seemingly contradictory feelings and then, when conditions permitted, to track down what was going on. It was considered very important not to be living with contradictions of any kind. Factual contradictions, value contradictions, and even emotional contradictions needed to be sorted.  

Failure to resolve or at least understand such conflicts was thought to almost certainly cause problems. From a contradiction of facts, anything can be “proven.” A contradiction of values can lead to vacillation — which is inefficient — as well as breaking trust with others. The Veritas considered the breaking of trust to be a very serious crime. Their whole society, like any free society, was based on trust. Breaking that trust is tantamount to attempting to destroy society. 

A contradiction in feelings did not mean that the tribe member needed to decide which feeling was “correct.” Though they apparently did not have a modern knowledge of anatomy, they were well aware that many parts of our body have muscles arranged in antagonistic pairs. Often feelings are arranged the same way. They considered it important to understand the origins of feelings and then to choose which one to act on based on probable outcomes.

Many Paths quickly realized that a true emergency, a visible enemy, even a necessary evacuation would allow her to do something. And, doing something–anything–would be more pleasant than this incessant waiting. And there were the mutterings. As the days wore on, people looked at her differently. She did not hear any open questioning of her leadership, but when she drew near, she could tell that conversations fell silent or switched to “pleasant” topics. If she were leading them in active battle, they would consider her a more active leader, and she herself would feel as though she was somehow “helping” her tribe reconnect. And, she especially missed Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift. Not knowing whether they were dead or alive or wounded somewhere — these led to extremely unpleasant images and feelings. 

She prepared herself for her day and let it be known that she wished to have a council fire and dialogue that evening. Rather than pretend that everything was wonderful and that her leadership was unquestioned, she thought it better to encourage others to share their ideas about what else might be done. 

IMG_3320

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

The rosy glow of the morning gave way to a sweltering day of hazy sunshine. After her own chores were done, she decided to walk among the people and pitch in with their chores and discover what was on their minds individually. She noticed Stone Chipper and his son, Horse Viewer headed back toward the river where Horse Viewer had been the first among the Veritas to see a person standing atop a horse. She thought it worthwhile to quiz them gently when they were back at the precise place where Horse Viewer had first seen those Who Steal Children. Sometimes, people can recall that which first escaped them when they are once again in similar circumstances. Anyway, it would be cool near the creek and Many Paths knew there was a small nearby lake with Pickerel and Arrowhead. She judged it was likely too early to gather the Pickerel seeds but the Arrowhead tubers could be harvested any time. 

They walked in silence for a time. At last they neared the creek and Many Paths said, “Horse Viewer, can you show me where you stood when you first saw the man on the horse?” 

A large, radiant smile lit the small boy’s face. He loped over to a spot near the outlet to the lake. He turned back to the adults, jumped up and down a few times. “Right here! Here’s the spot! I was looking across to there.” 

Many Paths strode up to him quickly. “Can you do me a favor, Horse Viewer? Can you close your eyes, please?” The boy complied as Many Path continued, “Now, can you picture anything else?” 

fullsizeoutput_1b1a

“Well,” said the boy without opening his eyes, “there was a kind of rope or strap coming from the mouth of the horse to the hands of the man who stood atop the horse. Although…he didn’t really stand on the horse. He stood on something on the side of the horse. And, the man…the man was wearing a black, hairy mask on the lower part of his face. The man … the man kicked the horse. I think he kicked the horse with his heel into the side of the horse. That’s all I remember.” The boy opened his eyes and stared at Many Paths. 

“Thank you, Horse Viewer. Your memory is good. Can you think of anything else?” 

The boy closed his eyes again, but opened them soon. “No, not really. Except…I couldn’t really see the man very well, but he was … stiff?” 

Many Paths glanced at Stone Chipper and back to the boy. “What do you mean by ‘stiff’?”

Horse Viewer frowned. “I mean. He was riding so fast! He should have been scared or happy or … something… but his face was blank and his body was … stiff … as though he felt neither joy nor fear in riding such a wondrous beast.” 

IMG_7209

Many Paths nodded. “You are a good observer, Horse Viewer. If you think of anything else, let me or your father know.” Now, help find some good stones for arrowheads. We may need many more soon. Meanwhile, I will also be gathering arrowheads. She smiled and gestured toward the margin of the lake. 

Stone Chipper said, “Many Paths. I also have something to say.” 

“Yes? What is it?” 

Stone Chipper looked at Many Paths and said, “I want you to know that I think you are a good leader.” He paused. “I do not think it’s your fault we were attacked at feast. And I don’t think it’s your fault that our search party has not yet returned. And we all of us thought sending a small search party was most appropriate. I don’t think it made sense to send a larger party. We don’t know yet what we are dealing with. As my son said, these people are not … they are not Veritas … and we do not yet know how they think or what other weapons they may have. They lie. We know that much from Friend of Squirrel. To pretend to trade in peace and then attack? They are not good people, I think. They are a great danger to us all. This is not the time for rash action. When you chip a stone properly, you must turn it this way and that. You must chip carefully or you will break the stone so that nothing good is left. I have made such a mistake of too much haste myself. Then, I must start over. We don’t want to break the tribe. That’s all. That’s what I think.” 

Many Paths sighed, nodded, and smiled grimly at Stone Chipper. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. She took both his hands in hers, looked in his eyes and said, “you are a fine maker of arrowheads, sir, and you are raising a good son. We will see how long it takes me to gather arrowheads and we may or may not walk back to the Center Place together. But for now I take your leave.” She then strode to the side of the lake. She removed her moccasins, and began wading into the cold, refreshing water. 

IMG_9452

—————————————————————

By late afternoon, Stone Chipper and Horse Viewer had gathered a heavy bag full of stones to be chipped. Likewise, Many Paths had a large number of Arrowhead tubers. They decided to return together to the Center Place. They had not gone far though when they came across Trunk of Tree who seemed to have been waiting for them though he seemed surprised to see the three of them together. 

“Hello, Many Paths! Have the three of you been collecting stones?”

Stone Chipper answered, “Well, I have been collecting stones along with my son, Horse Viewer, as you now call him. Many Paths has been gathering for tonight’s feast.”

“Oh. Interesting. Gathering food. May I talk with you privately, Many Paths?” 

She glanced at Stone Chipper who shrugged. Many Paths, said, “Yes. What is on your mind.” Trunk of Tree looked back at Many Paths but said nothing until the other two were well down the path and out of earshot. 

“Many Paths, you know I support you totally, right?” 

“Well, thank you Trunk of Tree. I do appreciate that.”

Trunk of Tree, chewed on his lip for a moment. “Well, yes. The thing is, some of the braves grow impatient. They wish to send out a larger party. They say you are afraid to do that because you’re afraid to find out that Shadow Walker is dead. And Tu-Swift. As long as we all stay here, we will never know and you can pretend they are still alive.”

Many Paths drew back. “What? I — no, I do not think either of them are dead, but if they are, I will get over it. I do not counsel sending more people out until we learn more from those who went to discover more about this enemy. I am not afraid of finding out they are dead. I appreciate your support, but …. “

Trunk of Tree stopped in his tracks and turned toward Many Paths, laying his thick hands upon her upper arms and turning her toward him. “If you truly appreciate my support, why not show it?” 

0483CC2A-1D87-46D3-9D8E-A41E3D8772B4

Many Paths frowned. “I just said that I appreciated your support. You puzzle me.”

“Many Paths, you are beautiful, but unused to the ways of men. I can show you those ways and you will be a better leader for it. I like you. You know I do. But it is time to acknowledge that Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift are not coming back. You need a family. I can provide that family, if you favor me. Let’s just try a handful of kisses and see how we like it. If either of us doesn’t like it, you can find someone else. But meanwhile….” Trunk of Tree tightened his grip on her arms and drew his body close. He closed his eyes and attempted to plant a kiss on her mouth. She quickly raised both hands above her head and brought them down quickly on the thick forearms of Trunk of Tree. She thus escaped his grip, but only momentarily. “NO!” she screamed. “We talked about this already. I am for Shadow Walker. He’s only been gone a short while. He will return. He’s your friend, or so we both thought. What is with you? I thought you were supporting me! Trying to force a kiss is not supporting me!” 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry. You’re just so beautiful. It is hard to resist.” 

“Trunk of Tree, you are strong. You can do difficult things. So you can leave me alone. I do not want to complicate…it would be such an absurdly bad idea. What do you think would happen?” 

“I think you should raise children with me. I am strong and I could be leader but I would listen to you for advice. We could lead this way together. Strength of body and strength of mind together. No-one would then question us.” 

Many Paths lidded her eyes, set her jaw and looked at him with dagger eyes. “I want people to question me. These are difficult times. I want everyone’s input, but I do not in any way want to raise a family with you. Indeed, I don’t wish to have children now! For what possible purpose? So that they can be stolen away by the horrible People Who Steal Children? If you object to the way I am handling things, then bring it up at the Dialogue after dinner and quit trying to force yourself on me. No. No. NO!” Trunk of Tree again tried to kiss her and this time Many Paths swung her elbow across his nose, breaking it. 

IMG_3191

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

Trunk of Tree had now grown angry and felt for a moment like breaking every bone in her body. But he saw that Stone Chipper must have heard their argument and quickly head back down the path toward them. Horse Viewer was close behind. Trunk of Tree grimaced and placed what he thought was a bland, pleasant smile upon his face. “Oh, hello, Stone Chipper. Sorry, we got a little excited at the prospect of killing the People Who Steal Children.” 

Many Paths slowly shook her head and looked at Trunk of Tree with great disappointment. “We’re done talking, Stone Chipper. It’s time to go back now so that we can feast on some Arrowheads.” She spun on her heel and begin striding down the path. Stone Chipper looked sternly at Trunk of Tree and let him pass so that he could keep an eye on him.

——————————————-

186DDAB7-08D8-436A-8F97-5D0C9B552F1F

Original Artwork by Zoe Colier

   

After a wonderful feast, capped off with herbal tea, most of the tribe gathered for another Dialogue. Many Paths began. 

“As you know, we all agreed to send out a small search party both to find and return Tu-Swift and also to find out more about the People Who Steal Children. They have not yet returned. I am hopeful they will return soon with knowledge and with Tu-Swift. But I also understand that it is frustrating for the rest of us to feel as though we are doing nothing. Let us together once again contemplate what else we might do.” 

Everyone was silent for a time. At last, Trunk of Tree spoke. “I know I speak for many who are afraid to speak for themselves. We believe the search party is dead or captured. We have learned nothing about these People Who Stand on Horses. We can stay here and do nothing. Or we can go and seek our revenge. I am strong and a warrior. I do not like sitting here like women simply gathering food and waiting to be attacked. I think it is time to consider a new leader.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives spoke next. “And who might that leader be?”

Silence.

Trunk of Tree spoke then. “If no-one else will step up, I will do it. I will find these People Who Stand on Horses and will kill them all.” 

Stone Chipper spoke next. “It is not true that we are simply gathering food and doing nothing else. Just today, I gathered many more stones that I can chip for more arrowhead and spearheads. It will take some time, but not a time overly long. And meanwhile, we all know that we have made it more difficult in many ways and in many places for People Who Stand on Horses to attack us. And, now we are all wary. They fooled us before. They pretended to come in peace. We will not be fooled twice. I, for one, stand with Many Paths.” 

There was a general murmur of assent. 

After much talk of many paths and Many Paths, She Who Saves Many Lives spoke again. “I am very curious, Trunk of Tree. Just this morning, I heard you also support Many Paths. Now you speak against her. What made you change your mind?”

“I thought about it more. That’s all!” Trunk of Tree said. 

His voice held too much anger to signal thinking so She Who Saves Many Lives persisted in her questions. “Does your change have anything to do with your falling down and breaking your nose?” 

Trunk of Tree burst out angrily, “I never said I fell! I…I mean.… I don’t know how I broke my nose. It doesn’t matter!” 

She Who Saves Many Lives laughed gently. “I find that a bit hard to believe. I am a woman who has seen many winters. No doubt, I may sometimes now find that a fly has bitten me when I did not notice. But even I would be quite sure to know when and how I broke my nose. If you do not wish to speak the truth in our deliberations, then, do not speak at all.” 

“What?! All right. You want to know the truth? Many Paths broke my nose.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives smiled slightly. “Really? And why was that?” 

Trunk of Tree blushed scarlet. “She tricked me. She got mad because I told her the truth: that Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift are dead. She didn’t like that.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives spoke even more softly. “Have you seen the bodies?” 

Trunk of Tree grumbled. “No. Of course not. But why aren’t they back? Everyone knows they’re dead!” 

She Who Saves Many Lives spoke again, “I do not think they are dead. What do you think, Many Paths?” 

“I feel very strongly that neither of them are dead. But…I do feel that both Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker have been injured. I do not know for sure, but that is how I feel. I know it sounds a little odd, but when I touch the Rings, I feel as though I can connect with both of them. I feel as though they are alive. But that is not proof. I would suggest that we think about other defensive measures. 

“I think we should all sleep a sound sleep tonight and we can discuss tomorrow whether we want a new leader. As for me, I cannot for certain foresee the future. I do not believe any leader may guarantee what will happen. Not She Who Saves Many Lives. Not Trunk of Tree. Not me. No-one. So, I have to ask myself what does it mean when someone claims that they know what they do not know?” 

A-OC raised another question. “Is it true what Trunk of Tree said? Did you break his nose?”

Many Paths glanced at She Who Saves Many Lives. “It is true that I broke his nose. Yes. It is not true that I tricked him or that I broke his nose because he said my love and my brother were both dead. Saying this did not make me angry because I believe he is simply wrong. And, one day, we will know the truth of their destiny.” 

P-OC next spoke, “Then why did you break his nose?” 

Many Paths stared at Trunk of Tree. “Trunk of Tree: you and I worked together on many things. We are friends, I think. Why don’t you tell the tribe why you think I broke your nose?” 

Trunk of Tree shut his lips together tightly and folded his arms across his chest. “I will tell you what I think. I think I should be leader. I am strong and decisive. I will lead you to a victorious … victory. I will … we will steal all their things and be richer. That’s what I think and it doesn’t matter why you broke my nose. Let’s vote tomorrow morning as Many Paths suggests. Or does she perhaps want to suggest another twenty things we should think about instead?” 

Trunk of Tree stomped off. The rest of the tribe looked back to Many Paths. 

Many Paths looked at each person and spoke softly. “So be it. We shall vote in the morning. Peace be to all.” She raised her voice and cupped her hands aside her mouth as she added, “And peace to you, Trunk of Tree.” 

Stone Chipper added in a loud whisper, “Or, as we may now call him, ‘Trunk of Tree with Broken Branch’.”

IMG_3192

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

——————————————————- 

Books by the Author. All are available on Amazon in both paperback and ebook.

The Winning Weekend Warrior focuses on the ‘mental game’ for all sports: strategy, tactics, and self-talk with examples from golf, tennis, softball, etc.

Turing’s Nightmares describes various possible scenarios of the future of technology — especially robotics and Artificial Intelligence.

Fit in Bits suggests many ways to work more fun and exercise into daily activities such as traveling, sitting in meetings, shopping, playing with kids, etc.

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

Website with earlier stories, essays, and poems.

Essays on America: The Game

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Essays on America: What About the Butter Dish?

Corn on the Cob (An Essay about mindfulness and gratitude)

Come Back to the Light Side

Try the Truth

The Truth Train

 

 

 

The Many Shiny Things

18 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics, psychology

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, fantasy, fiction, life, poem, poetry, politics, short story, truth, USA, writing

You spy the many shiny things

Along the road to you-know-where.

The whistle of the wind who stings 

The stench of burning flesh and hair.

The numbers prove you must be rich!

Why care about the starving child?

Why care for homeless vets in ditch?

Why care if kids are raped, defiled?

The liars all have puffin lips.

Their hair is long; drops straight and gold.

They glare at you with hands on hips;

The lies they spew are eons old. 

AI-generated

And yet within your heart of hearts

You feel a teeny prick of guilt.

Your cure is caress their farts. 

And lap the floor for blood they’ve spilt.

Just get along and sing their song

Of hatred, lies, and “I-Not-See”!

The rights they wrong to get along;

The stench of their autocracy.

Photo by Tom Fisk on Pexels.com

The stench of their autocracy

The stink of dead democracy.

Then wash with white theocracy.

While Coward leads the cowardly.

You thought you’d gain more shiny things

Along that road to you know where.

Instead you kiss their slimy rings

And wash their dirty underwear.

You help to squelch the good and true

Your soul’s a bridge that you have burned.

Betraying true Red, White, and Blue.

A place in hell is all you’ve earned. 

The stench of sick autocracy:

It bathes your brain eternally.

You coddled cancer; pay the price. 

A gram of courage would’ve been nice. 

But you’re too late now. 

You’re just another cow— 

Another slice of steak,

For Conmen to take.

Author Page

Where Does Your Loyalty?

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

Labelism

An Open Sore from Hell

After All

All We Stand to Lose

The Stopping Rule

At Least he’s our Monster

Wednesday

The Game

You Bet Your Life

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

Myths of the Veritas: Feast and Fire

07 Saturday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

celebration, Democracy, empathy, ethics, fantasy, feast, fiction, leadership, life, short story, story, strategy, tactics, truth, Veritas, writing

Myths of the Veritas: Book II

{Translator’s Note} In what follows, I was able to make use of a new class of self-correcting statistical algorithms that allows for a more detailed depiction of the spoken and drum languages of the Veritas. This work has been aided immeasurably by archaeometrical modeling and, in particular, the Schliemann-Baudhayana equations. Needless to say, these advances notwithstanding, narrative reconstruction is still fraught with numerous perils and is still as much an art as a science — a distinction lacking, so far as we can tell, in the thinking of the Veritas themselves who conceived of truth and beauty as tree and fruit.

—————————————————

Feast and Fire

“Well, why wouldn’t we? It is faster, right?” Tu-Swift grew impatient with his older sister. 

Many-Paths however, simply smiled as she answered. It was a genuine smile too, not the patronizing smile of an older, wiser sister; nor the forced smile used today as a means of manipulation; rather, her smile was nothing other than a genuine expression of her heart. 

Many-Paths could don an expression and feign a tone of voice as well as anyone. She, like most of the Veritas, simply chose not to feign feelings with other members of their own tribe, or indeed, with any other tribe excepting only in the case of true enemies like the Cupiditas had been. 

The reason that Many-Paths smiled was this: she appreciated the passion of her younger brother and his single-mindedly determination to prove his point even if it meant overlooking things that he himself knew to be true. Many-Paths was of an entirely different nature, as indicated from her name. As leader of the Veritas, Many-Paths had passed many trials of empathy and fair judgement. And as a leader, she was well-aware that the tribe needed people like Tu-Swift who would press on and on for something no matter what. And as a leader she was also well-aware that the tribe needed people like Many-Paths to provide a check on such ill-conceived enthusiasm. 

IMG_3192

So, Tu-Swift felt the actual kindness in the voice of Many-Paths as she answered gently. “I think you yourself know the answers to why we might not choose to do it even if it is faster.  I also think you can imagine conditions under which your method would be considerably slower.  But meanwhile, I can hear that the voices of the people are happy and loudening. We ourselves should also be making our way to the feast.”

Tu-Swift needed no further encouragement to attend a feast, especially the feast of Bel-Tanay, with its promise of fresh greens, strawberries, grilled fish, and honey-sweetened ground nuts. He spun on his heel and hurtled toward the Center Place. So quickly did he turn and so quickly did he begin to sprint, and so thoroughly did the image of honey-sweetened ground nuts capture his attention, that he immediately slapped his body into a small sapling which rebounded him backwards at the feet of Many-Paths. He was a tough little boy, graced with a lithe and muscular frame. Hence, he sprang back up almost as quickly as the sapling had slung him backwards. “Sorry,” he muttered to the sapling as he once again sprinted toward the feast. 

Many-Paths shouted after him with good humor: “Are you too swift Tu-Swift?” She shook her head slightly, still unsure whether he had even heard her gentle rebuke let alone truly processed it. There would be other opportunities, she thought. Many-Paths had no more desire to change the nature of To-Swift than she did to change a rabbit into a tortoise. She pictured a brown rabbit with a white tail plodding methodically along with his long legs splayed out sideways. Without a shell, such a slow and furry tortoise would stand no chance to survive the predations of eagle or fox. As She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives had taught her, each branch of life must be its own form. Yet, rabbit, tortoise, and human beings also made choices. One of the most important a human being could ever make was simply accepting that no one path is most appropriate for every occasion. 

Many-Paths could still have caught up with her younger brother for she had also inherited feet that flew. And, this natural talent she had nurtured. She had explored various loping, skipping, and sprinting gaits thoroughly to see for herself how various gaits worked best under various circumstances of terrain and weather. This day, this moment, however, required no speed whatever and Many-Paths found it more pleasant to stroll to the Center Place, anticipating the savory salmon laid on a bed of wild lettuce and garnished with grape tendrils; the rich warm acorn and wild rice pudding; the tangy sweetness of fresh strawberries. 

Before she rounded the guardhouse that blocked her view of the gathering throng, she tried to imagine the various groups and sub-groups that would be eating together. As leader, it often proved useful to be able to predict such matters. Her predictive skills improved daily though perfection at such a task might be years, perhaps even decades away, as She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives had explained soon after she had bestowed upon Many-Paths the Seventh and Final Ring of Empathy. 

“Your skills will continue to improve,” She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives had explained, “provided only that you walk a balanced way using both legs and both minds – the mind that sees what may be and the mind that sees what is actually there.” 

Many-Paths had nodded solemnly because she “understood” what Saves-Many had meant though the depth of that understanding had deepened considerably over the years. In her mind that sees what may be, Many-Paths first pictured Shadow Walker and she predicted that he would likely be already chatting with Eyes-of-Eagle and Fleet-of-Foot whom she had not seen for nearly a year. Many-Paths thought it likely that one of the Nomads of the South would have accompanied them. Trust was still a bit fragile between the two tribes but trade, and games, and sharing stories, and playing drums, and dancing, and sharing meals — all of these had served to grow many bonds between the two tribes. And surely today’s feast with the wonderful aromas she now inhaled could only serve to strengthen ties between the tribes. 

fullsizeoutput_17b8

Many-Paths walked into the clearing of the Center Place. She glanced around quickly to see how people had arranged themselves. The groupings largely confirmed her hypotheses except that strangers occupied the space near — no, wait! There they were! Eyes-of-Eagle, Fleet-of-Foot, and even Shadow Walker had donned robes in the manner of the Southern Nomads. The craftily constructed garb fooled her eyes so badly that she had not even recognized her friends at first, not even Shadow Walker! She laughed at how she had been fooled. In this case, she had even know where to look, but she had still found it difficult to see what was truly there. Walking a balanced way did indeed prove to be a life-long challenge. 

As Many-Paths made her way to her place, she exchanged many small waves and nods with other in her tribe. Though all were aware of her role as leader and the vital role she had played in the storied victory in the war with the Cupiditas, the people did not indulge in various displays of deference or position. They gave great weight to her words, despite her youth, because of her intelligence and competence, not because she held some “position.” Unlike the Cupiditas, no-one bowed deeply to her or waited to see what she thought before offering their own honest opinion. She dressed in deerskins much like the others of the Veritas. Typically, as today, she wore the Seven Rings of Empathy threaded onto a knotted necklace of leather. Only this and her radiant manner set her off from her compatriots. 

B34DF6E7-63B2-4217-956C-6F64011A74F2

As she approached, the animated chatter of her friends stopped and they all rose to embrace her. Shadow Walker’s embrace held the most strength and the most warmth. She found herself blushing slightly. She wished to clear her mind so she could properly welcome the visitors from the Southern Nomads. That took precedence over her own considerably awakened desire. 

“Well met, new friends from the south. I am Many-Paths and I am much impressed with the raiment you provided! These people sitting next to you are my friends from birth. Yet, I at first did not recognize them. So cleverly did you fashion these robes! My congratulations. I must confess that I am led toward three paths at once. I wish to know more about such magic and skill. I want to learn about you and what you think of the Veritas and yet, I also want to learn from my friends about their adventures in your lands as well. Sometimes, you see, Many-Paths has too many paths to choose from.”

“I am happy most glad to meet you at last, She-Who-Walks-Many-Paths-to-Save-Many-Lives. I am happy most glad you like the robes of. We have brought such a glad one for you as well. I am known among my tribe as ‘Lion-Slayer, The Silent One’ and this is my wife, Hudah Salah.”

Hudah Salah now stepped forward and took both hands of Many-Paths in hers and looked into her eyes. Many-Paths returned the gaze. “It is nice. I to meet you in person. My husband is yes glad to be Lion-Slayer. He does not often be called ‘Silent One.’ 

Lion-Slayer chuckled. “I make joke. I like talk.” 

“I do too,” chimed in Fleet-of-Foot. “I like to eat even more! Please pass the salmon!”

Tu-Swift, grabbed the plate quickly and passed it to Fleet-of-Foot, his favorite ‘Uncle.’ Before he had finished handing off the platter, an urgent cry rang out in his ears, sharp above the general happy din. 

“To arms! To arms!” It was Many-Paths issuing commands! Tu-Swift wondered whether she had gone mad. Why was she saying that in the middle of a feast? He shook his head to wake himself up in case he had been dreaming. Again, she was shouting, “To the Cottonwoods!”

IMG_0051

But shaking his head changed nothing, everywhere warriors were readying their weapons and now Tu-Swift’s consciousness seemed to shatter into an incoherent blur of sound and color and pain. He heard whooshing arrows twang into wood. He saw an arrow land on a table near him. Color shot out from the shaft. He could feel the heat and taste the pain. Fleet-of-Foot wrenched him around and in one swift motion snapped the arrow in two, pulled out the shaft and wrapped a makeshift bandage around Tu-Swift’s forearm. 

All around him, Tu-Swift saw arrows streaming and flaming down from the sky; he saw his people gather weapons. He saw his sister leading a band of warriors out across the water toward a stand of trees. This, he thought, is where the arrows come from. This arrow. This arrow came through my arm. I am shot. That’s why I hurt. I have to help fight. Tu-Swift rose to his feet and immediately felt very light-headed. He grabbed a large flint carving knife. He fell to his knees, crawled under the table and fainted. 

fullsizeoutput_123a

————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Creation Myth of the Veritas

Fragmentary Myth of the Veritas

The First Ring of Empathy

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Somewhere a Bird Cries

At Least he’s Our Monster

Tools of Thought: And then what?

You Know

The Walkabout Diaries: Natural Variation

It’s not your fault; it’s not your fault

The Cupiditas

27 Tuesday Jan 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

America, Cupiditas, Democracy, Dictatorship, empathy, fiction, governance, greed, history, leadership, life, myth, politics, power, treachery, truth, USA, Veritas, writing

fullsizeoutput_2449

{Translator’s Note}: As has probably been obvious to the reader, translation into English from the legends of the Veritas is a non-trivial task; not only is the language different; so are the times, technology, and culture. Nonetheless, these difficulties pale compared with the next translation which mainly involves a different tribe, known to the Veritas as “The Cupiditas.” In what follows, I rely on several sources of scholarship as well as what the Veritas had to say about The Cupiditas. Where the difficulties become nearly unsurmountable, however, are those fragments of oral history passed along by The Cupiditas themselves. I won’t bother to recount all the difficulties, because doing so seems too much like whining. After all, I am well fed, living in a house with central air conditioning and heating and able to avail myself of modern technology. I do want to let, you, the reader, know how dubious these translations are however, not to gain your sympathy, but to alert you to numerous possible inaccuracies. 

First, the Veritas valued truth extremely highly and had developed numerous strategies to preserve the accuracy of their oral history. By contrast, the Cupiditas, as you will soon see, valued power, not truth. As a consequence, every time there was a regime change, those in power revised, re-interpreted, and redacted, insofar as possible, the oral history of the Cupiditas to make out “their side” to be the “good guys” and the powers most recently deposed to be the “bad guys.” 

Second, the difficulty in translating the myths of the Veritas often consists of finding expressions subtle enough in English to handle the many shades of gray that the Veritas routinely used in such matters as “causality” and “responsibility.” Native English speakers, for instance, see nothing problematic in statements such as: “Mary was sad and it was John’s fault.” Is this sadness temporary, permanent? Is it constant, cyclical? Is it really plausible that Mary’s sadness has zero to do with anything other than John? And, what does it mean to say it was John’s ‘fault’ exactly and solely? I may write such a sentence so that English speakers understand it given the current level of sophistication of our culture. The actual Veritas descriptions, however, are always much more nuanced. Causality is always characterized among the Veritas as a web of interconnections and never as a linear set of linkages.

 

 

 

 

 

By contrast, there are very few subtleties in the language of the Cupiditas. They seldom attempt to use what we would call persuasion. People are arranged in a strict power hierarchy and whenever a person higher in this hierarchy states something as fact it is supposed to be obeyed, retold, and believed regardless of how absurd or wantonly cruel it might be. If, a few years later, violence leads to a repositioning of the power hierarchy, what was “true” before is now often “false” and now people were expected to obey, retell, and believe even the precise opposite of what they passionately believed weeks before. Since most adults among the Cupiditas had experienced several such “shifts” of what was “acceptable belief,” it seems as though either they had become incapable of knowing the “truth” or they had become too jaded to care.  

Third, as I mentioned, some of what follows is from what is certainly the much more accurate and less self-serving oral history of the Veritas. They were apparently even more mystified by the cultural choices of the Cupiditas than we are and that cast some doubt on how much the Veritas descriptions can be relied up. That the Cupiditas were less well off on almost every dimension is borne out by the archeological evidence. Yet, I remain suspicious that even the truth-seeking and empathic Veritas could ever be completely accurate in their recounting of what happened among the Cupiditas. 

Fourth, Chomsky notwithstanding, in many cases, the Cupiditas did not appear necessarily to speak or even think in complete sentences. Here, I am not referring to the kinds of ellipsis or implicit commands that occur in English. While eating at the table with you, I might lift up my bread, catch your eye and say, “Butter?” meaning, “Would you please pass the butter (so that I can butter my bread).” This is understood by people in our culture. Among the Cupiditas, however, for an underling to use such language with one of a higher status would be considered highly insulting. Instead, the lower status person would be expected to say something along the lines of: “Oh, excellent one! Would it please you to allow me to partake of the butter and thereby increase my great debt to you?” On the other hand, a person of higher rank might well merely speak the word, “Butter.” In this case, it might or might not be an implicit request to pass the butter. It was intentionally vague and ambiguous. Lesser ranked people would silently pass glances trying to guess upon whom the honor of passing the butter had been bestowed. If too long a time passed, the high ranking person might suddenly grab the butter and smash it against the wall or into the face of a nearby lackey. On the other hand, if someone passed the butter, the higher ranking person, might say, “NO! TELL me about butter, idiot!” In other words, the higher ranking person would be intentionally vague so that no matter what was said or done, the other person would be wrong. One of many Cupiditas leaders who reveled in this game was the one called, NUT-PI.  

Legends of the Cupiditas: NUT-PI’s Plan. 

america arid bushes california

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Although there were many changes and variations in the legends of the Cupiditas, on one thing these legends all seemed to agree. The rather barren and desolate lands that the Cupiditas lived on now were the result of treachery and trickery on the part of the Veritas. Indeed, nearly all of the many problems that beset the Cupiditas were blamed on the Veritas while only a few were blamed on more distant and somewhat less prosperous tribes. For their part, the Veritas were amazed that the Cupiditas survived at all, given their insistence on warping and even denying the truth. The Veritas had learned long before even their most distant legends not to over-fish, over-hunt, or over-harvest in an area and thus destroy the very things that brought sustenance to the tribe. Moreover, when the Veritas built or hunted or gathered, they were always trying to try out new ways and to improve on how they did things. Usually, new ideas did not improve things but occasionally new ideas were an improvement and these were kept. While the Veritas worked and silence was not demanded by the character of the enterprise (e.g., stalking shy creatures), they talked or sang or chanted. By contrast, the Cupiditas tribe did the tasks of their tribe under the constant harassment and belittling of those in charge and new ideas were generally dismissed out of hand even on the rare occasions when they were brought up at all. This is not to say that innovation was absent in the Cupiditas. Apparently, NUT-PI himself rose to power by inventing a new way of killing. Rather than oust his opponents with spear or club, he poisoned them. He often killed them without their even knowing that he was vying for power over them. In this way, he quickly became the most feared among the Cupiditas. According to NUT-PI, those who opposed him angered the gods and those gods therefore destroyed his enemies, invariably striking them with “mysterious illnesses” causing them to go blind while their tongues turned black and their limbs grew ever more weary till at last they fell upon the ground writhing in pain and soon expired.  

IMG_0022

Previous leaders of the Cupiditas had risen to power through a combination of physical strength and guile. As they grew older, their physical strength began to wane slightly and the younger from among the Cupiditas vied among themselves for power and position until one felt strong enough and skilled enough to challenge the current leader.

Sometimes, the challenger would become the new leader and sometimes they would be killed outright or at least maimed to the point of no longer posing a threat. To the Veritas, such a procedure for choosing a new leader seemed preposterous! The chosen leader of the Cupiditas, always a man, could compel any woman among the Cupiditas to mate with him. Initially, this custom seemed to increase the average strength among the Cupiditas. However, the resulting inbreeding inevitably led to numerous health issues among the tribe. NUT-PI did not particularly enjoy physical combat and instead spent many of his days alone capturing small animals and discovering which plant tisanes had the most profound effect. At one point, he challenged the Cupiditas leader to mortal combat with spears. NUT-PI covered the spearhead of his weapons with an extract of hellebore mixed with datura. 

As was customary, in the rough-hewn stone arena before the “contest” began, NUT-PI offered two identical spears to the leader. As the leader reached for the first one, NUT-PI deftly slashed the hand of the old leader, CHOFM. It was not a deep cut, but sufficient poison leached into his bloodstream to cause weakness, confusion, and partial paralysis. A few quick thrusts and NUT-PI fatally wounded CHOFM. Despite his older age, CHOFM was much stronger, quicker, and more skillful than NUT-PI and would have easily won a “fair fight” with any sort of weapon. The tribe of Cupiditas, however, immediately hailed the new leader, as was their custom. 

{Translator’s Note}: The events described above are one of those many places where the worldview of the Veritas differs significantly from that of the Cupiditas. The legends of the Cupiditas do not distinguish between a contest won by treachery and a contest won by skill or good luck or superior strength. The Cupiditas already had a long tradition of pledging instant allegiance to whoever is the leader without any regard to how they got there. 

After many moons, NUT-PI proved himself to be a ruthless leader, even by comparison to other leaders of the Cupiditas. In order to keep the peace among the tribe, since he offered nothing in the way of true leadership, he roused the Cupiditas to a fever pitch of hatred for all that they had [supposedly] lost to the Veritas. 

black and white cold fog forest

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The next year, the winter seemed to last into spring and then into early summer. Hunting proved sparse and NUT-PI feared that the anger he had aroused might morph so as to be directed at him. Indeed, he rightly thought that fighting the far-away Veritas might seem to the people of the Cupiditas to be much more difficult than challenging and replacing their own leader. Also, the Veritas were known by all to be both more numerous and more prosperous than the Cupiditas. An all-out war against the Veritas would have been madness and although they spoke of it publicly as though it would be an easy victory, each of the Cupiditas secretly knew such a war would be hopeless. For his part, NUT-PI kept a close watch for any signs of a youth who might grow strong and skillful enough to challenge his power. He planned to poison any such youth before he became strong enough and confident enough to issue the challenge.

Such a challenge as was awaited by NUT-PI did not come. Instead, after the long, cold winter, the mandatory morning adoration songs for the leader of the Cupiditas were interrupted by two such ones as were not expected at all. By their garb, they were known to be of the Veritas. The Cupiditas thought it both stupid and brave for two such ones to walk right into the camp of the Cupiditas. Of course, the Veritas, while knowing that their customs were quite different from those of the Cupiditas, had no inkling of how heavily reviled they had been by NUT-PI. So, those two from the Veritas did not suspect that approaching the Cupiditas would be particularly dangerous. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As they walked deeper into the Cupiditas camp, POND MUD and ALT-R found themselves surrounded by more and more of the Cupiditas. Though ALT-R had grown ever more clever at reading and manipulating people, he mainly did so through his words. He was not well versed at all in the language of the Cupiditas and his palms grew sweaty and the throng of people swelled in numbers. Even the much stronger POND MUD though slow and brash well understood that he and his friend were no match for the strength of the entire Cupiditas people. While ALT-R understood only a little of the language of the Cupiditas, he and even POND MUD could tell that the people surrounding them were being derisive and threatening. At last, the tension became overwhelming as many of the Cupiditas hunters jabbed their spears threateningly at the two. So, ALT-R forced himself to speak in a loud, confident voice, supplementing his words with gestures that were common to all the tribes. 

“Oh, great and wondrous people of the Cupiditas, we bring great news to you and wish to speak with your great and legendary leader, CHOFM!” Though fearful, ALT-R made his voice ring loud and clear in the crisp morning air. 

His words brought a much more sudden change in mood than ALT-R expected. Several braves ran off from the group to inform their leader who was lounging in his large, private cabin. The crowd as a whole began chattering angrily among themselves and became even more threatening to the pair. 

ALT-R tried to understand what was going on and wished to choose his next words so as not to further darken the mood of the crowd. He gestured expansively to indicate the whole village. “You of the Cupiditas are a marvelous and strong people. I see many strong people among you. I see many cabins. I see many tents. I see that you are a prosperous and strong people.” The Cupiditas were feeling anything but prosperous and many took the words of ALT-R as sarcasm since they “knew” the Veritas were far more prosperous. ALT-R knew his flattery was not working well but had no idea why. He hated his lack of fluency in the tongue of the Cupiditas and struggled for something else to say by way of flattery. As he scanned the village for inspiration, he saw someone emerge from the largest cabin. This someone was dressed in finer garb than the other Cupiditas and was surrounded by several servile sycophants. 

brown wooden percussion instruments

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

ALT-R stared at the man and bit his lower lip. He wondered whether this was the leader of the Cupiditas, for he, like the other Veritas, had always heard that CHOFM was a rather large, older, well-muscled man. But this did not well describe the obvious leader who emerged from the cabin. Perhaps he was ill. That would explain his diminished stature as well as the fawning attitude of those around him. Among the Veritas, such fawning behavior never occurred even for She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives but only signaled someone in a temporary state of great need. Still confused, ALT-R cursed himself for not having chosen a smart, knowledgeable friend who could help him rather than the one he could most easily manipulate. 

NUT-PI spoke. “I am NUT-PI, the King of the Cupiditas. I am not CHOFM. I vanquished that old man before the last fall harvest, oh, ill-informed one of the Veritas. What gifts did you bring me?” 

ALT-R wished that She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives were here to advise him. Immediately, he pushed this thought from his mind. He hated the leader of the Veritas, who had overlooked him as the next leader and furthermore banished him from the tribe – a rare and terrible punishment. But it did remind him of the Rings of Empathy that he possessed. 

“I am he who is called ALT-R and I bring you, oh, great leader of the Cupiditas, these wondrous and magical rings imbued with special powers by the shaman of the Veritas. My companion also brings his rings as gifts. Though these are magical and wondrous, they are but tokens of our esteem. Our real gift is the gift of knowledge. We have come to show you how to conquer the Veritas, not through superior computations [sic] but through knowledge. We are of the Veritas and know the Veritas. We know where their lookouts are; we know their habits; we know their weapons; we know their strengths and weaknesses. We can show you how to defeat the Veritas. All I need is your word to make me small King of the Veritas to your large King of all in these lands. And, my friend POND MUD, of course. Also to rule under you.”

NUT-PI said flatly, “Show me these rings.” 

ALT-R eagerly fished out his rings and nudged POND MUD to do the same, which he did grudgingly. ALT-R knelt before NUT-PI and offered up his rings. He quietly backed away, head still lowered. He whispered for POND MUD to do the same. And so it was done. 

NUT-PI considered the rings, turning them over in his hand and letting the morning sun play upon them. They were indeed beautiful and well-made, but he was quite skeptical of magic. He had his own “magic” after all, consisting of the poisons he used to keep his power. The Cupiditas may think he was magic but he knew what the real secrets of his success were: poison and ruthlessness. We will see whether your knowledge of the Veritas is sufficient to save your lives. Come!” He turned and walked back toward his cabin, gestured for them to follow and snapped his fingers at his body guards. 

Inside the cabin, NUT-PI seated himself upon an ornately carved wooden chair raised several feet off the floor on a dais. POND MUD and ALT-R were forced to kneel on gravel before him while a score of well-muscled guards pointed their spears at the head, throat, and chest of the two from among the Veritas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NUT-PI looked at the two disdainfully. “Speak! Be quick! What do you know of how to defeat the Veritas!” 

ALT-R now found himself having to speak plainly in a foreign tongue about complex things. He was ordered to do so quickly and he was already feeling pain in his knees. Yet, if he spoke in too little detail, he would be dismissed as a fraud. On the other hand, if he spoke in too much detail, he knew that he had no guarantee that the Cupiditas would not kill them both and use the knowledge anyway. He stared at the gravel wondering whether it would ease his pain or worsen it if he tried to shift his position just a little.

NUT-PI enjoyed his obvious discomfort and played the rings in his hand while he started at the two. “WELL?! Do not think to waste my time!” he barked. 

ALT-R decided to reveal the scope of his knowledge first and then delve into ever more detail, vowing to ignore the pain until he could read that NUT-PI was sufficiently impressed. He would also make it clear that it would be necessary for him to accompany the Cupiditas in their raid in person. Thus, he began to reveal the general habits of the Veritas such as the fact that guards were not always positioned in the same place. At the full moon and the empty moon, these posts rotated among over a hundred vantage points that were chosen in some unknown way by She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives. ALT-R knew where the guards were now so he could sneak back into the lands of the Veritas and discover their new hiding places when the moon showed no light. For the guards took no pains to cover their trails from the campsites to their guard posts. Each guard also had a small drum for raising an alarm. It would be critical to sneak behind the guards from the direction of the Veritas, once the new positions were known. It must be done very quietly and with camouflage under cover of rain if possible. Each such post must be taken quickly, the drums destroyed, and the guards murdered. It would not be necessary to kill all the guards initially. The Cupiditas only needed to murder those on the side of the deep forest that bordered the lands of the Veritas. 

 

 

Photo by Pedro Figueras on Pexels.com

 

 

 

ALT-R had never known such pain and yet, he kept reminding himself that he needed to convince NUT-PI of the depth and importance of his knowledge. He also painted a picture of beautiful women to be raped, full storehouses to be ransacked, and many fine artifacts that could be stolen. While it would be possible to annihilate the Veritas outright, it would be far more profitable to take them as slaves, he explained. He and POND MUD could be excellent at being the slave drivers for they spoke the language of the Veritas and knew their customs. They would be well positioned to foresee any uprising or rebellion and destroy any such tree of rebellion while still a seedling. “But of course, that choice remains with you, oh Great One,” said ALT-R fawningly. ALT-R had told a different story to POND MUD and promised him he could have any woman of the Veritas or the Cupiditas once they had become co-leaders of both lands and villages. Dull as POND MUD sometimes was, ALT-R hoped he would have the sense not to interrupt or reveal this now. He had made it as clear as he could to POND MUD to volunteer nothing. 

agriculture basket beets bokeh

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

At last, NUT-PI grew weary of listening for it was hard work to understand the twisted tongue of ALT-R and besides that, NUT-PI’s stomach growled for among all the Cupiditas he was the last to have a morning meal. So, he put an end to the interview, at least for now. 

“Enough! I will think on this and announce my decision on the morrow. Guards, take these two, denude them, bind them hand and foot in the center of the village upside down so my people may look upon the Veritas and realize they are nothing special and can indeed by conquered. When you have bound them securely, come back here that we may plan our invasion with or without their help. Perhaps they will be of future use as well. Or perhaps we will feed them to the wolves. Or, perhaps we will learn how they are made inside. Arise now and go! After you have secured them, warn the villagers not to kill them before I give the command, though if they wish to hurt them a little or humiliate them, to enjoy themselves. Stress, however, that they are not to kill these two until I give the word. GO!” 

ALT-R tried to stand and found himself struggling like an oldster. She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, he thought, could have come to her feet more gracefully. 

So, it was that ALT-R and POND MUD found themselves in the middle of the camp of the Cupiditas, strapped to large logs, hog-tied and upside down, subject to the taunts and worse of the villagers through the long day and the longer night without benefit of food or drink or privacy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even a dictator needs confidantes and so it was with NUT-PI. Now, these were with NUT-PI to plan. While the Veritas had very detailed maps of the entire area, those of the Cupiditas were far less accurate. Nonetheless, they knew the location of the thick forest that protected one side of the lands of the Veritas. They planned their attack as well as the training and selection of the warriors. One of NUT-PI’s captains obliquely brought up the question of who would be the best slave driver of the remaining Veritas. 

NUT-PI laughed and said earnestly, “Do you think me a fool, INGO RICHES? You can never trust a Veritas. And you can never ever trust a traitor. They are both! Of course, I will choose one of you to be slave-driver of the remnants of the Veritas. These two will both be killed once Victory is assured. Till then, they can serve as useful tools. They will then be killed as slowly and painfully as possible in the middle of the main camp of the Veritas to illustrate to the Veritas what happens to any who defy me. That will be their final gift to me. I will decide later who will have the Veritas to run as they wish, but do not worry, INGO RICHES, you are among the candidates. We must first put all our thought into winning this war for the Veritas are not an easy foe. They are wily and well-trained. We will use these two, but let them grow more humility as they contemplate their possible fates while hungry, thirsty, fearful and humiliated. Besides, I want to know why they came here. So far, this one who calls himself ALT-R had not really answered that question completely. But he will in the morning. Or the next morning. Or the next. Eventually, I will discover the truth. And this I promise you and all the people of the Cupiditas – we will conquer the Veritas and rule the world.”

IMG_9162


Author Page on Amazon

The First Ring of Empathy

The Second Ring of Empathy

The Third Ring of Empathy

The Fourth Ring of Empathy

The Fifth Ring of Empathy

The Sixth Ring of Empathy

All We Stand to Lose

After All

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

D4

Dick-Taters

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Orange Man

At Least he’s Our Monster

The Ailing King of Agitate

An Open Sore from Hell

 

Abracadabra!

20 Tuesday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in apocalypse, The Singularity, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

"Citizens United", AI, Artificial Intelligence, biotech, chatgpt, chess, cognitive computing, Democracy, emotional intelligence, ethics, HCI, life, prediction, psychokinesis, technology, the singularity, truth, Turing, USA, UX

IMG_7241.JPG

Abracadabra!

 

Here’s the thing.

 

There is no magic.

 

Of course, there is the magic of love and the wonder at the universe and so there is metaphorical magic. But there is no physical magic and no mathematical magic. Why do we care? Because in most science fiction scenarios, when super-intelligence happens, whether it is artificial or humanoid, magic happens. Not only can the super-intelligent person or computer think more deeply and broadly, they also can start predicting the future, making objects move with their thoughts alone and so on. Unfortunately, it is not just in science fiction that one finds such impossibilities but also in the pitches of companies about biotech and the future of artificial intelligence. Now, don’t get me wrong. Of course, there are many awesome things in store for humanity in the coming millennia, most of which we cannot even anticipate. But the chances of “free unlimited energy” and a computer that will anticipate and meet our every need are slim indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This all-too popular exaggeration is not terribly surprising. I am sure much of what I do seems quite magical to our cats. People in possession of advanced or different technology often seem “magical” to those with no familiarity with the technology. But please keep in mind that making a human brain “better”, whether by making it bigger, or have more connections, or making it faster —- none of these alterations will enable the brain to move objects via psychokinesis. Yes, the brain does produce a minuscule amount of electricity, but way too little to move mountains or freight trains.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, machines can be built to wield a lot of physical energy, but it isn’t the information processing part of the system that directly causes something in the physical world. It is through actuators of some type, just as it is with animals. Of course, super-intelligence could make the world more efficient. It is also possible that super-intelligence might discover as yet undiscovered forces of the universe. If it turns out that our understanding of reality is rather fundamentally flawed, then all bets are off. For example, if it turns out that there are twelve fundamental forces in the universe (or, just one), and a super-intelligent system determines how to use them, it might be possible that there is potential energy already stored in matter which can be released by the slightest “twist” in some other dimension or using some as yet undiscovered force. This might appear to human beings who have never known about the other 8 forces let alone how to harness them as “magic.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is another more subtle kind of “magic” that might be called mathematical magic. As known for a long time, it is theoretically possible to play perfect chess by calculating all possible moves, and all possible responses to those moves, etc. to the final draws and checkmates. It has been calculated that such an enumberation of contingencies would not be possible even if the entire universe were a nano-computer operating in parallel since the beginning of time. There are many similar domains. Just because a person or computer is way, way smarter does not mean they will be able to calculate every possibility in a highly complex domain.

Of course, it is also possible that some domains might appear impossibly complex but actually be governed by a few simple, but extremely difficult to discover laws. For instance, it might turn out that one can calculate the precise value of a chess position (encapsulating all possible moves implicitly) through some as yet undiscovered algorithm written perhaps in an as yet undesigned language. It seems doubtful that this would be true of every domain, but it is hard to say a priori. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is another aspect of unpredictability and that has to do with random and chaotic effects. Imagine trying to describe every single molecule of earth’s seas and atmosphere in terms of it’s motion and position. Even if there were some way to predict state N+1 from N, we would have to know everything about state N. The effects of the slightest miscalculation or missing piece of data could be amplified over time. So long term predictions of fundamentally chaotic systems like weather, or what your kids will be up to in 50 years, or what the stock market will be in 2600 are most likely impossible, not because our systems are not intelligent enough but because such systems are by their nature not predictable. In the short term, weather is largely, though not entirely, predictable. The same holds for what your kids will do tomorrow or, within limits, what the stock market will do. The ability to do long term prediction is quite different.

In The Sciences of the Artificial, Herb Simon provides a nice thought experiment about the temperature in various regions of a closed space. I am paraphrasing, but imagine a dormitory with four “quads.” Each quad has four rooms and each room is partitioned into four areas with screens. The screens are not very good insulators so if the temperature in these areas differ, they will quickly converge. In the longer run, the temperature will tend toward average in the entire quad. In the very long term, if no additional energy is added, the entire dormitory will tend toward the global average. So, when it comes to many kinds of interactions, nearby interactions dominate, but in the long term, more global forces come into play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, let us take Simon’s simple example and consider what might happen in the real world. We want to predict what the temperature is in a particular partitioned area in 100 years. In reality, the dormitory is not a closed system. Someone may buy a space heater and continually keep their little area much warmer. Or, maybe that area has a window that faces south. But it gets worse. Much worse. We have no idea whether this particular dormitory will even exist in 100 years. It depends on fires, earthquakes, and the generosity of alumni. In fact, we don’t even know whether brick and mortar colleges in general will exist in 100 years. Because as we try to predict in longer and longer time frames, not only do more distant factors come into play in terms of physical distance. The determining factors are also distant conceptually. In a 100 year time frame, the entire college may or may not exist and we don’t even know whether the determining factor(s) will be financial, astronomical, geological, political, social, physical or what. This is not a problem that will be solved via “Artificial Intelligence” or by giving human beings “better brains” via biotech.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whoa! Hold on there. Once again, it is possible that in some other dimension or using some other as yet undiscovered force, there is a law of conservation so that going “off track” in one direction causes forces to correct the imbalance and get back on track. It seems extremely unlikely, but it is conceivable that our model of how the universe works is missing some fundamental organizing principle and what appears to us as chaotic is actually not.

The scary part, at least to me, is that some descriptions of the wonderful world that awaits us (once our biotech or AI start-up is funded) is that that wonderful world depends on their being a much simpler, as yet unknown force or set of forces that is discoverable and completely unanticipated. Color me “doubting Thomas” on that one.

It isn’t just that investing in such a venture might be risky in terms of losing money. It is that we humans are subject to blind pride that makes people presume that they can predict what the impact of making a genetic change will be, not just on a particular species in the short term, but on the entire planet in the long run. We can indeed make small changes in both biotech and AI and see improvements in our lives. But when it comes to recreating dinosaurs in a real life Jurassic Park or replacing human psychotherapists with robotic ones, we really cannot predict what the net effect will be. As humans, we are certainly capable of containing and testing and imagining possibilities and slowly testing them as we introduce them. Yeah. That could happen. But…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What seems to actually happen, however, is that companies not only want to make more money; they want to make more money now. We have evolved social and legal and political systems that put almost no brakes on runaway greed. The result is that more than one drug has been put on the market that has had a net negative effect on human health. This is partly because long term effects are very hard to ascertain, but the bigger cause is unbridled greed. Corporations, like horses, are powerful things. You can ride farther and faster on a horse. And certainly corporations are powerful agents of change. But the wise rider is master or partner with a horse. They don’t allow themselves to be dragged along the ground by rope and let the horse go wherever it will. Sadly, that is precisely the position that society is vis a vis corporations. We let them determine the laws. We let them buy elections. We let them control virtually every news medium. We no longer use them to get amazing things done. We let them use us to get done what they want done. And what is that thing that they want done? Make hugely more money for a very few people. Despite this, most companies still manage to do a lot of net good in the world. I suspect this is because human beings are still needed for virtually every vital function in the corporation.

What will happen once the people in a corporation are no longer needed? What will happen when people who remain in a corporation are no longer people as we know them, but biologically altered? It is impossible to predict with certainty. But we can assume that it will seem to us very much like magic.

Very.

Dark.

Magic.

Abracadabra!

Turing’s Nightmares

Photo by Nikolay Ivanov on Pexels.com

After All

All Around the Mulberry Bush

All We Stand to Lose

The Crows and Me

The Last Gleam of Twilight

Guernica

The Orange Man

Donnie Visits Granny

The First Ring of Empathy

An Open Sore from Hell

The Impossible

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Pattern Language Summary

The Midnight Flight to Crazytown

To Be or Not to Be

Peace

Who Won the War?

We Won the War! We Won the War!

The Dance of Billions

At Least He’s Our Monster

Stoned Soup

Fifteen Properties

Tools of Thought: And then what?

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

All that Glitters is not Gold

As Gold as it Gets

Gold Standard

Who Kept the Wonder?

Roar, Ocean, Roar

When Greed’s the Only Creed

The Self-Made Man

← Older posts

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • May 2026
  • April 2026
  • March 2026
  • February 2026
  • January 2026
  • December 2025
  • November 2025
  • October 2025
  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • July 2025
  • June 2025
  • May 2025
  • April 2025
  • March 2025
  • February 2025
  • January 2025
  • December 2024
  • November 2024
  • October 2024
  • September 2024
  • July 2024
  • April 2024
  • March 2024
  • February 2024
  • January 2024
  • December 2023
  • August 2023
  • July 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • January 2015
  • July 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013

Categories

  • AI
  • America
  • apocalypse
  • cats
  • COVID-19
  • creativity
  • design rationale
  • dogs
  • driverless cars
  • essay
  • family
  • fantasy
  • fiction
  • HCI
  • health
  • management
  • nature
  • pets
  • poetry
  • politics
  • psychology
  • Sadie
  • satire
  • science
  • sports
  • story
  • The Singularity
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • user experience
  • Veritas
  • Walkabout Diaries

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • petersironwood
    • Join 662 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • petersironwood
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar

Loading Comments...