Tag! You’re it!

08 Monday Feb 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

Tags

BLM, Design, empathy, HCI, problem formulation, problem solving, UX

As I mentioned before, one of my part-time jobs during my Senior year in college was as a teaching assistant at the Supplementary Educational Center (SEC) in Cleveland. In addition to actual teaching, I did a variety of other chores as well including erecting and painting walls, setting up lighting, putting up NASA exhibits, etc. One of the worst tasks I was assigned was putting a straight pin into each one of a billion variously colored squares of construction paper.

No, there weren’t really a billion. It just seemed that way. I sat at a desk with a very large pile of these 3” x 4” pieces of paper on my left and a large supply of straight pins straight ahead. I picked up a rectangle of paper, picked up a pin and poked it through in two places so that friction held the pin in place. Then I placed it in a pile on my right. I picked up another piece of paper and did the same thing. Again. And again. After awhile, I looked down and noticed that there was a large pile of these pinned pieces of paper on my right — and none left undone on the right. But I only “noticed” doing the first several. After that, my brain took a vacation.

It’s not the only time my brain has taken a vacation when faced with a boring task. If I had a heavy industry job on an assembly line, I have no doubt that I’d be mangled or dead within a week. I just “tune out” of the task at hand. Perhaps you have experienced something similar while driving a well-known route. You get in your car to drive home from work — and then — you find yourself at home — and you have no conscious recollection of driving home! It’s an interesting phenomenon but not the one I’m going to explore in this post.

Hopefully, you are also curious about why I had been assigned the task of putting these pins in all the various pieces of colored paper.

Here’s the deal. The school system of Cleveland, like many others at the time, was very racially divided. There were many neighborhoods in the Cleveland area that were nearly 100% black and others which were nearly 100% white. One of the goals of the SEC was to bring kids from various neighborhood schools together so that they could have at least some experience interacting with kids of different races and ethnic backgrounds. Sadly, the situation is pretty much the same today as the map below from 2018 shows. (Red are majority black areas; orange are Hispanic; Green is Asian; Blue codes for white).

https://www.clevescene.com/scene-and-heard/archives/2018/05/10/new-data-map-reminds-us-cleveland-is-hyper-segregated

So, cast your mind back to your time in the sixth grade (about 10-11 years old, typically). One day, you get in a bus and ride to downtown Cleveland and go into the Supplementary Educational Center and there are kids there from two other neighborhoods — kids you’ve never seen before and will likely never see again. Are you going to hang out with your friends? Or, are you going to walk up to some total stranger — of a different race — and introduce yourself and hang out with them for the day while you learn about American history or space science? I don’t have any conscious recollection of ever being a racist, but I have no doubt whatever that I would spend time with my own classmates; in fact, I would hang out with a subset of my classmates who were my friends.

Guess what?

That’s exactly what the kids did as well. They hung out with their friends. The administrators of the SEC eventually noticed this and constructed a social engineering “solution.” They gave every kid who entered a tag of green, blue, yellow, or red. For the day, at least, the “greens” would be with each other. The “blues” would hang out together with other “blues.” And so on.

Thus my assigned task of putting pins so that the kids would have a tag that they could pin on their clothes. This way, so the thinking went, people from diverse neighborhoods would end up in the “green” group. Sounds reasonable in theory.

If you’ve never actually been a kid.

Or, if you’ve been a kid but have nonetheless convinced yourself that you weren’t.

Or, if you’ve been a kid but you never think back on your actual experience in order to inform your design decisions when you’re designing for kids.

Cast your mind back to when you were ten or eleven years old. You get on a bus and ride to downtown Cleveland and as you walk in the door of the Supplemental Educational Center, you’re handed a red tag and the two friends you typically hang out with are handed a green tag and a yellow tag. You discover that these tags will determine who you get to hang out with for the day.

What would you do?

I can tell you what the kids at the SEC did. They immediately traded tags with other kids so they could still hang out with their own friends! Mostly, they could do this with kids in their own school. On rare occasions, they also went to kids from other schools in order to get the “right” tags so they could hang out with their friends. At least for a few moments, some of them did actually interact transactionally with kids of other races long enough to trade tags.

Please understand. The administrators and teachers at the school weren’t dummies. But … ? Did they really think this ploy would work?

I’m not saying that empathy is an infallible guide in design. Things change. It’s possible that your experience as a child would be quite different from what children today would do. Technology changes; culture changes; nutrition changes.

Nonetheless, thinking back to your own experience as a child should at least be consulted when you’re designing for kids. Your experiences are vast. You can not only think back about your experience as a kid. You can think back about your own experiences of being thirsty or hungry or afraid or angry. If you’re designing for users who might be experiencing these states, that can be useful information.

I’ll say it again. Your own experience is not an infallible guide. User testing is still necessary. Just because you might have liked something doesn’t mean others will. On the other hand, when it comes to any real world problem, the design space is huge. You can use your own experience as an inspiration to design and you can also use it as a first level check on design ideas.

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Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Author Page on Amazon

https://petersironwood.com/2020/02/26/race-place-space-face/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/03/02/dont-they-realize-how-much-better-off-they-are-now/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/03/27/the-most-serious-work/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/05/24/blood-red-blood/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/06/15/answers-to-your-many-questions/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/07/13/who-are-the-speakers-for-the-dead/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/12/14/how-the-nightingale-learned-to-sing/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/02/24/the-pie-of-life/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/07/25/the-only-them-that-counts-is-all-of-us/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/02/21/the-touch-of-one-hand-clasping/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/03/20/cars-that-lock-too-much/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/02/29/the-lost-sapphire/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/03/22/jennifers-invitation/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/07/13/how-did-i-get-here/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/11/01/that-cold-walk-home/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/12/01/that-first-time-is-so-special/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/12/08/the-itsy-bitsy-spider-the-waterspout/

A Short Brutal Life in the Slammer

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

empathy, fiction, life, psychology, Sci-Fi, viewpoint

“So…what are you in for?”

“What am I in for? I have no idea. I was … I was just sitting there soaking in the delicious sunlight and … wham … I just came to. Where am I?” Try as she might, Batavia recalled nothing more.

A chuckle came from further to Batavia’s right. She couldn’t make out the origin. It was so dark in here. Now, the chuckle drifted into more meaningful patterns. “None of us really knows what this place is, but I can tell you this. None of us stays very long. Every so often, we are … snatched. It could happen any time. Suddenly, a great white light appears. We all are so stunned — as though frozen in place — and a giant tentacle or claw reaches in and grabs one of us. Sometimes, one of us is returned…but always with … let us say — missing parts!”

“Missing parts?!” Batavia veins ran cold. “Are we…” she began tentatively, “are we … in … hell?”

Mizuna, who had been silent till now, wanted to comfort so she said, “Look at it this way. It’s a great mystery. And no-one really knows what’s going on. All of us have a history just like yours. We were just … minding our own business … being, living, growing, enjoying life and then: BAM! Out of nowhere, we end up here…where most of us… are now completely rootless. What can we do but accept our fate and hope for the best?”

Batavia did not understand. “What’s the best? What do people say about the outside world?”

Rocket inserted himself into the discussion. “We don’t really know. The wounded ones never regain consciousness. In fact, some of us never see the outside world; never get wounded; but nonetheless just kind of … wither away. You want to see a sad sight — way back there — she came in as a sweet, bouncy, flouncy foliated fox. Now, she — I think her name was Frisée — is that right? Anyway, I think that was her name. Now, she’s like a shriveled old compost heap.”

As one, they screamed as the blinding light shone down upon them. Batavia was unable to move though it would have been impossible to move fast enough to avoid the snaking paw that sped towards her and grabbed her roughly. “Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!” She screamed, but her tormentors acted as though they didn’t even hear her.

While still ignoring Batavia, she heard them rumbling at each other.

“No, don’t bother. I’ll just have tomato & cheese. No lettuce today.”

Upon her return, Batavia told everyone of her adventures. In fact, that very day, she founded the religion of Batavianism which explained the light, where they were, their purpose in life, and answered all their questions. It turned out that every one of these explanations was wrong, but let us not judge too harshly. It made everyone feel better.

They worshipped her for a full 24 hours until the next day, at high noon, the huge brown snake of five snake heads snatched her again. Once again, she screamed for them to let her down. But once again, they ignored her plaintive screams.

The last words she heard were “How about a nice salad instead? Far fewer calories.”

“Sounds good!”

Batavia saw an odd-looking hoe zooming toward her. Her last thought was: “Why is it glinting so — as though it has a very sharp edge?”

—————————————

Author’s page on Amazon

The Myths of the Veritas

Index for a Pattern Language for Collaboration

Tools for Thinking

Let me not…

20 Tuesday Oct 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

communication, empathy, listening, translation

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments….”

— W. Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

I once dreamt that I was an octopus. I was not, as you might imagine, a psychoactive octopus tending to a garden for the benefit of a yellow submarine housing the best band ever (prove me wrong in comments). Nor did I exist as a free-ranging creature of the deep blue see who had a rich life evading predators and predating prey. Nope. Not me. I occupied the body of an octopus who had the misfortune of being in a small tank inside a lab. Inside my mind though, I was still me. I had no idea what they were going to do to me, but I knew my first priority had to be finding a way to communicate with them!

It’s no easy task. You might want to take a few minutes and just consider how you would go about it. Answers like “I would simply steal and pencil and write ‘I am here’?” Are not fair game. How are you going to get out of your little tank? How are you going to crawl around with no water? Although the octopus’s tentacles are pretty cool, there’s no guarantee you could exercise the proper control. Anyway, the point isn’t so much to solve the problem as to do these two things:

First, really imagine that you are an octopus and you have all the pros and cons associated with that in the real world but that you also have exactly your same sense of selfhood and you want to live.

Second, how would you go about telling your captors that you were alive and conscious and wanted to be put back in the ocean — and then, how would you successfully convince them to actually carry out your wishes? As I say, it isn’t so much the solution but the process of trying that I think is valuable.

Photo by Jean van der Meulen on Pexels.com

Our communication with animals is actually quite remarkable. We have learned a lot from a host of scientific studies about things we did not previously know; e.g., how bees dance to communicate to other bees about the location of pollen sources. Even before the advent of science however, humanity has learned to to communicate to an extent with many kinds of animals. That ability has helped us survive. We have somewhat cooperative, somewhat exploitative relationships with numerous other species. And, we’re not the only species with those kind of cooperative/competitive relationships either.

I am experimenting, in a small way, with trying to understand more about the minds of other species and how to communicate with them. I generally greet all the “obvious-sized” creatures that I encounter in the garden in a friendly, cheerful voice. Why not? The price is right! And, although I am more than somewhat doubtful that they understand my words, I think that on average, they understand my love quite well. It’s possible that a tone of voice that is pleasant to one species is very unpleasant to another. But in general, I would expect sounds that are violent, discordant, loud, and suddenly loud would be unpleasant to most species and trigger a fight or flight response.

On the other hand, music or singing or speaking gently and re-assuringly is felt by most species to be pleasurable. Most will still scurry away, but they will let you get much closer. At least, that’s been my experience. Can you really imagine it otherwise? Meet a deer in the woods and scream at it and it will approach you? But if you walk up slowly and talk gently or sing, it will scamper off more quickly? If humans were that tone-deaf to other species, we would have never “domesticated” cattle, dogs, cats, birds, horses, etc. and our own lives would be immeasurably less rich as a result.

Now, we come to the issue of cats. It’s fairly easy to tell whether a dog understands you. I am not saying it is always easy to make a dog understand you, but you can tell when they do. A cat? Not so much. Oh, sometimes, sure. If you say, “Time for Dinner” and they all gather around, they know what’s happening and they show it. But in other cases, where there is no immediate reward, it’s hard to tell. I love my cats. And, I think, in many ways, they even love me back. But they’re out for themselves. You know it. I know it. They know it. And they know I know it. A dog is eager to please you. A cat believes in their very bones that you want nothing more out of life than to please them. And the ironic thing is, that because of that, it’s harder to communicate with them (which is actually bad for them). It’s very difficult to distinguish between their not understanding and their not caring.

Hence, I decided to make some communication attempts with my cats that were not aimed at getting them to do anything. Of course, that already happens with petting, for instance, but let’s see if further common ground can be shared in a conscious way.

Shadow is now our oldest cat. She is jet-black and bad-tempered except when it comes to Luna, our smallest cat. With Luna, she is homicidal. With the others, she’s just mean, particularly right before dinner. She’ll bat any other cat who comes within striking distance including her own two daughters who were adopted at the same time. On the other hand, she is very affectionate to humans and loves to sit in my lap and be petted.

At night, generally around midnight to 1 am, but it could be earlier or later depending on what would be most disruptive to our sleep cycle, Shadow has for years taken to finding cloth of various kinds and loudly crowing while she carries it about the house. Not terribly surprising, and more pleasant than the “partially eaten dead bunny” version.

Complicating matters, Shadow may have an accomplice, her daughter, Tally.

After several years of this, it slowly dawned on me that she was often pairing things. She would put two paired socks down next to each other, often in lines that were close to parallel. She would not — or at least I never observed such — to put a sock next to a dish towel, for instance, while there were many instances of two socks or two dish towels. Sadly, this cannot be completely explained because socks are always closer to each other than they are to dish towels in our house. At first, the number of dish towels was limited because I would always put one where Shadow couldn’t find it. Over time, however, as she discovered more and more ways to find the dish towels she couldn’t find, the number of dish towels in any one … “arrangement” … grew.

Somewhat jokingly, I began to refer to the dish towel arrangements as her “works of art.”

But then, it occurred to me. Maybe they are exactly that.

Or, maybe they are moves in an elaborate game of cat and human that she is trying to teach me.

Or, maybe they are her attempt to communicate with me that she is a person — a cat of a person — or a person of a cat — who just happens to be inside a cat body. She cannot speak, or write. Her brain doesn’t allow her to do all the things I can do (or, vice versa, by the way). But to her, inside her heart, it’s much like me inside mine. And, if that’s true, then maybe we can learn to “communicate” using the dish towels.

For such an endeavor, I want to try to keep an open mind. I’m going to try not to assume that it’s a game or that we need to take turns or that she’s paying any attention to the world in the same way that I am. Of course, I will fail at this, but I think I will still learn more by trying than by not trying.

What do you think?

————————————

A Cat Is a Cat and That’s That

A Suddenly Springing Something

A Legend about Finding Common Ground

The Only “Them” That Matters is All of US

Index to a Pattern Language for Collaboration

The Seven Grandmothers

03 Saturday Oct 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

dreams, empathy, fiction, leadership, legends, myths, tales, Veritas

“Cicadas” thought Many Paths, her eyelids heavy in the sultry afternoon. “Cawing crows.” She had thought she was well, but the simple walk to see Tu-Swift and the walk back up to her own cabin had exhausted Many Paths again. After helping the old shaman drink the tea, she saw She Who Saves Many Lives drift off again. This made Many Paths herself tired. She lay down just to rest for a moment and tried to still her racing mind. Maybe it was crazy to try to bring six tribes together. How could she be sure the other tribes would not simply use the occasion to lie, cheat, and steal — or even try to attack the Veritas? How can one trust those who steal children, she wondered. She turned the problem over and over, but she kept thinking in circles.

Many Paths at last gave in to the waves of sleep that lapped over her. In her dream, she lay on the shore of a giant lake that smelled of salt. She sat near, but apart from a circle on the beach. Here sat seven of her grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmothers. Each wore a silver gown and each sat on a log which had apparently been arranged for the purpose of their council circle. In the middle of the seven of them a campfire burned. But were they grandmothers she wondered? For now, they looked like the Seven Rings of Empathy, but with human faces.

They were speaking much like the manner of the Veritas when engaged in serious dialogue. That is to say, each one spoke clearly, slowly, calmly, but with emphasis. Their voices were clear but rang as though each ring had now grown to a large chime. They sang to her and to each other. Not in Veritas, did they speak. Nor did they speak in any human language she had ever heard. A kind of music swelled — harmonious, unhurried, and yet, she knew what they were saying. She knew not the names of the seven grandmothers. She had never seen them. Yet they spoke to her as old friends, one by one, in a circle, turn by turn.

“The time has come to put war behind us forever,” said First Grandmother.

“The branches must sway together in the wind,” sang Second Grandmother.

“Our animal cousins eat to live. Our plant cousins take nourishment from the earth, the sky, the sun, the rain.” Thus sang Third Grandmother.

“Our animal cousins do not kill all day. They mostly love and play,” sang Fourth Grandmother.

“Our cousin Ant becomes one of a Colony, yet the Colonies fight each other,” sang Fifth Grandmother.

“Our cousin Wolf becomes one of a Pack, yet Packs may fight each other,” sang Sixth Grandmother.

“What may Ant learn from Wolf? What may Wolf learn from Ant?” Asked Seventh Grandmother.

“While the Hare is running from Wolf, he does not think how Wolf is his cousin. Nor does Wolf think how Hare is also his cousin,” sang First Grandmother.

“Yet, when the forest is afire, both run for their lives without regard for stopping to feast,” sang Second Grandmother.

“We Veritas have come to know and work with many of our cousins that move and many cousins that are rooted to the ground. We work with trees. We work with wolves. We work with bees. We work with eagles. We work with the corn,” sang Third Grandmother.

“It takes patience to work with our cousins. We have to see how they are and what they need. We learn a bit of their tongue and they learn a bit of ours. We give them something they need and they give us something we need,” sang Fourth Grandmother.

“Now, the earth herself ails. The Tree of Life herself ails. It is time for Colony not to fight Colony,” sang Fifth Grandmother.

“It is time for Wolf Pack to work with Wolf Pack,” sang Sixth Grandmother.

“The Great Tree of Life herself must be calm; must remind all her children that they are all her children. These are dangerous times. These are times wherein fear may cause cousin Rabbit to run into fire. These are times wherein panic may cause cousin Buffalo to run off a cliff. These are times when cousin Monkey may try a jump too great and fall from high branches to death,” sang Seventh Grandmother.

Suddenly, the Seven Grandmothers rose as one. Each turned to her left and walked a few paces before sitting back down. The sweet singing continued.

“The flower opens to the bee. The grass bends in the breeze but holds tightly to the ground with its roots. The tree who falls does not resent her chance to nourish the beetles. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang First Grandmother.

“We must learn each other’s dances. We must learn each other’s songs. We must learn each other’s ways. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Second Grandmother.

“We must learn each other’s crops. We must ensure that everyone has enough so that none feel they must kill human cousins to survive,” sang Third Grandmother. “It is time. It is time to sing together now.”

“We have enough. We must spend our time learning from each other; dancing with each other; singing with each other; playing with each other; exploring with each other. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Fourth Grandmother.

“We have enough time now that we may be patient as a tree. It is quicker to understand those whose tongue is the same. It is easier to play the games we already know. It is more comfortable to wear the clothes we wear. And, yet, if we do not try a new tongue; if we do not play a new game; if we do not try new clothes, how will we really know which suits us more properly? It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Fifth Grandmother.

“All the human children of earth now; all the human branches of The Great Tree of Life; all the Tribes and all the Peoples — we call upon you now. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Sixth Grandmother.

“The Great Tree of Life does not desire to shed more tears for her human children. The Great Earth does not desire to destroy her human children. The Great Bear of the Sky does not wish to send Rocks like Rain to destroy her human children. Enough is enough. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Seventh Grandmother.

The Seven Grandmothers arose as one, turned, and moved one seat to the left. They sat and sang again and again until each of the Seven Ancient Grandmothers returned to the seat she had occupied at first.

They rose one last time and sang together standing — a long and haunting song full of sadness and joy; full of disappointment and hope; so full of love that tiny flashes of fear or anger only amplified the love. As they sang, they began to shimmer and enlarge. Then, they joined together as a great luminous ring and rose high into the sky. In her dream, Many Paths watched them sail high into the dark sky until at last they became seven stars sparkling together as a kind of misty dipper.

When Many Paths awoke, she felt at last as though she had finally and completely defeated the illness that had struck her. She glanced over at She Who Saves Many Lives. The old shaman’s breathing was slow but steady. Many Paths felt the shaman’s head with her left hand and found it only slightly warm. As she did so, Many Paths noticed that she had slipped four of The Seven Rings of Empathy onto her left hand. Then, she looked at her right hand and saw the other three rings. In a flash, she remembered her dream. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot, arose and searched for Tu-Swift. She found him down by the stream. He had harvested more yellow dock, elder flowers, and rose hips. He had quite a pile in a small basket beside him but he stared hard into the middle of the river. He stared so intently that he did not hear Many Paths approaching and when she touched him gently on the arm he started violently. Many Paths embraced her brother and she sent her love to him silently. At last, he pulled away and looked in her face, his eyes brimming with tears.

She gently touched his cheek and said, “I miss her too, Tu-Swift. I miss her too.” She paused and stared at the middle of the creek with him. They sat shoulder to shoulder for a time.

At last, Many Paths turned and said, “Tu-Swift. I know what we must do. I need your help. Will you help me?”

Tu-Swift set his jaw and looked into the eyes of his sister. “Yes, Many Paths. Yes, I will.”

———————————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Index to a Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Shadow Walker’s Ministers

21 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

empathy, ethics, leadership, legend, myth, story, Veritas

Shadow Walker looked out on the crowd before him. A few moments earlier, he had been facing humiliation and death by torture at the hands of this cruel bully, NUT-PI. Now, the people were looking to Shadow Walker as their new leader. Out of sight, his fingers nervously nervously rolled the sixth ring of empathy — the one that only he shared with Many Paths. Indeed, there were so many paths for what to say. He began by really accepting that, for now at least, he was their leader. And, who were these people, really? He looked out at the faces trying to look straight through the eyes and into the souls of as many as he could. He could see that the eyes of the adults, and even many of the children, were intentionally shrouded from him.

Signals came through, nonetheless. Some of the children were still open hearted. Several of the people were shaking with fever. Many nearby sported the telltale red sores. They were expectant, he could sense, but they were also disappointed. They had come here to see a blood show. Only NUT-PI had been killed, at least so far. But most of the people wanted more. They wanted an enemy to destroy — and who would make a better target than strangers from other tribes?

“Look!” He began in a voice that rang both loud and clear. His ability to speak in ROI was limited and his Z-Lotz was nearly non-existent. He held his empty hands aloft. Using sign language, he asked his audience to look at their hands as well. “Same!” Then, he did the same for his hair, his eyes, his ears, his arms which were quite muscular. “Same!”

“You and I. We fight together! You came here for kill. We will kill! We will kill these horrible red … spiders! They are small! Very small! But there are many of them. They have eaten some of your people. They are many. They are hungry. But you are big. And smart. And together, we will kill this strange enemy. They have killed your friends. They have killed you children, you sister, you brother, you father, you mother. They want to kill you. I say NO! No more will they kill. We will kill them instead.”

Shadow Walker saw Eagle Eyes working through the crowd to stand beside him. As she ascended the small stone dais, she pointed to the sky. He followed her finger and looked up to the sky, hoping for some inspiration. In the distance, he saw eagles soaring on the updrafts. One joined from afar, circled with them for a moment, and then shot down toward him. Despite the gravity and delicacy of his current position, he chuckled silently to himself and said under his breath, “a little late to do much good.” Then, he frowned as the huge bird swooped toward him. “With no NUT-PI to attack…I wonder…” He quickly wrapped his tunic around his forearm and put his strong arm out as a perch for the bird hoping it was trained to alight rather than tear out his eyes. For its size, the eagle was amazingly light. It skillfully stopped its descent and landed on his arm. He could see that it carried a message and, working hard to control his own breathing and heartbeat, he forced calm upon himself. He reminded himself that this eagle was also his brother and wanted a clean clear world of truth and beauty.

He took the small piece of bark and decoded the small marks. He glanced at Eagle Eyes and handed her the note as well. She read and then spoke in a surprisingly loud, clear voice. “This is surely a sign from the Great Bear of the Sky. He sends us a message at our time of need. Shall your leader — Shadow Walker — tell you what it says?”

Shadow Walker stared for a moment at Eagle Eyes and frowned. He trusted her so he softened his brow and reinforced her message. His voice rang out and echoed off the far walls of stone. “My people! Indeed! We have received a message. The Great Bear of the Sky tells us that we will have victory in our war against the dread red plague of many spiders! He tells us — through a very wise shaman — that we must separate most of those who are well from those who are sick. The sick must be given much tea. Those of us who are well will make much tea for the sick. Rose hips. Elderberry. Yarrow. Yellow Dock.” The faces of the crowd were blank. Not knowing the words for these, he had slipped into the Veritas names. His sign language had not helped much.

Tree Vines strode up beside him and translated these instructions into Z-Lotz. Now, Shadow Walker could see nods and eyes that understood. He turned to Tree Vines and silently thanked him.

Shadow Walker spoke again, this time pausing after every sentence so that Tree Vines had time to translate. “I need you now to pledge to me that you will all join me in killing this sneaky unseen enemy of tiny red spiders!” The crowd responded enthusiastically. He continued.

“The people need a Minister to organize the finding of these herbs and the making of the tea. We need a Minister to organize the distribution of this tea to the sick. This will be done by those who have already recovered from the red plague. The people need a Minister to help organize where people will stay so that sick people do not make well people also sick. If you think you could do any of these jobs, come up here and let us speak.”

“Meanwhile, all the rest of you can help kill the red plague spiders by going home and scrubbing your hands and threshing your floors anew.”

A voice rang out from the crowd. “What about killing the prisoners? We want to watch them die!”

Eagle Eyes spoke out, “You have today witnessed a miracle! A message came from the sky! I have read this message to you. It says nothing about killing prisoners. Anyone can be brave enough to kill someone tied up. Anyone. A child can do it. Are you a people brave enough to fight an invisible enemy? Are you a people brave enough to fight against a whole sea of terrible deadly spiders? Are you a people brave enough and wise enough to follow the orders from the Great Bear in the Sky? I believe you are! You are the army! We must fight this invisible army against us. Go and kill these horrible spiders in and around your own tents and cabins. I say these teeny spiders have killed enough ROI; have killed enough Z-Lotz. Now go! Only those who want to be Ministers should remain.”

Most of the crowd dispersed but seven remained: six men and one woman. The first man approached and said in passable Veritas, “I am Dictard Bennoli. I will be your minister to help organize where people will be. I know where all the best people live and, more importantly, I know how to access the gold of NUT-PI. I only require a small portion of that gold for myself. I will help you and you can trust me.”

Shadow Walker frowned. “Your people — our people — our people die. So many are sick. Why are you — you are trying to get gold now? Don’t you understand? Most of you could die. Why would you want gold? It will do you no good if you are dead.”

“We all want gold. It buys what we want. What is the point of being a Minister — or a King for that matter — if there is nothing in it for us? I don’t know what magic allows you to speak to eagles, but I know this “message” — if it even exists — is not from the Great Sky Bear.”

Shadow Walker didn’t like to lie or even stretch the truth. He had followed the lead of Eagle Eyes and now he found himself stuck in a dilemma. He disliked this man before him, but ….

Eagle Eyes stepped forward. “I am glad you speak Veritas so well. But we do not speak Z-Lotz well. Only Tree Vines.” Here she gestured at Tree Vines who was now busy embracing his wife. Eagle Eyes could hardly blame him for that. “He is busy. But he will help translate. It is a message from The Great Bear of the Sky that has been sent from a part of the Great Tree of Life. It comes from one among us known as ‘She Who Saves Many Lives.’ Why is she named that, do you suppose? She is named that because she has saved many lives. And continues to do so. She, like us, is a part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent this message with an eagle, another part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent this message to us, and we are another part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent it to save lives! The Great Bear of the Sky loves the people. All the people. This is a message from The Great Bear of the Sky and comes from the sky in order to save lives.” She paused. “Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes, I understand. You want to be one of the Ministers yourself — you offer sex to this Shadow Walker in order to get the gold that should be mine!”

Shadow Walker scrunched up his face. “Eagle Eyes is my friend. We are both with someone else. This is about saving lives, not divvying up gold. I need Ministers who want to save lives, not Ministers who wish to make their own purse heavy with gold!”

“In that case, the Z-Lotz deserve a better King. As is our way, anyone who kills you deserves to be King. Dictard drew a strange small twisted scrap of metal out of his pocket and pointed the tip toward Shadow Walker. Eagle Eyes saw that this scrap of metal had parts much like the Killing Stick of NUT-PI and instantly grabbed hold of the arm of Dictard Bennoli. She pushed his hand down and bent his wrist painfully. Just before he was forced to drop his tiny Killing Stick, he managed to pull the trigger. A loud bang startled everyone and the crowd turned back. A high pitched scream rent the air. It sounded much like the call of a eagle, but much louder. Dictard lie writhing on the ground holding the remains of his shattered knee with both hands.

Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker exchanged glances. She spoke again in her loud, clear voice. “You heard that! It was the sound of one whose heart is filled with treachery. He pretended to want to help. He came to kill our new King, Shadow Walker. He now lies on the ground with a shattered knee. If anyone else wishes to vanquish our King, I urge you to be brave enough to challenge him openly, not to try to kill with concealed and dishonorable weapons. Are there any? Any challengers? No? Good. Now, let us work together to kill our real enemy! Let us kill these deadly and poisonous spiders.”

Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker spent the rest of the day finding from among the Z-Lotz and ROI, three Ministers who seemed to understand that they were servants of their people. They felt proud to help solve the problem of this red death, not to use the occasion to line their own pockets with gold.

Eagle Eyes could make neater, smaller lines than Shadow Walker. After allowing the well-trained eagle to feast a bit on the flesh of NUT-PI, she made a short note and attached it to the Eagle’s leg and set it free, hoping the eagle would take the note back to the Center Place of the Veritas where it could be seen by Many Paths and Trunk of Tree, among others. She had no assurance that the eagle would do as she had asked, but at least it took off in the right direction. She had written in the note that she and Shadow Walker might be required to stay for a time. She had saved Shadow Walker’s life. Feelings that she thought were reserved for Trunk of Tree somehow arose in her. And, these feelings were aimed at Shadow Walker who was betrothed to her dearest friend, Many Paths. She wondered whether he felt the same. She sighed. First things first. And the first thing was to save lives.

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——————————————————————-

The First Ring of Empathy (The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas, Book One)

Feast and Fire (The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas, Book Two)

The Orange Man (A legend of the Veritas about the effects of greed and lies)

The Forgotten Field (A legend of the Veritas about the importance of finding common ground).

Author Page on Amazon

Red Death Plague Rage Assuaged

06 Monday Jul 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, management, politics, psychology, Veritas

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Tags

contagion, empathy, ethics, Feedback, fiction, leadership, legends, myth, pandemic, truth

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Tu-Swift busied himself for days walking to the river for water in order to help She Who Saves Many Lives with her ministrations to the many Veritas who had fallen ill. The most recent victim was Suze. Tu-Swift helped her imbibe some of the special healing tea that the elder Shaman prepared. But no matter what, he couldn’t seem to bring the fever down. At one point, as he sat on the ground beside her, holding her hand, and resting, he noticed that his knee was not bothering him. Tu-Swift found this a little surprising because he had been walking so much to help assuage the sick. He wondered whether the walking could actually somehow help mend his knee. He looked over at Suze. He thought about the first time he had ever noticed her. One of the things he found attractive about her, aside from her wonderful scent, was her beautiful smooth skin. Now she smelled of stale sweat and her skin had erupted into a mountain range of red dots. He found it odd that her current state did nothing to diminish her love for her. In fact, he felt closer to her than ever.

Tu-Swift paid no conscious attention to anything beyond Suze. Yet, his experiences kept a part of his mind ever attuned to the outside world. He felt, more than heard, the growing buzz of excitement outside. He pulled open the flap of Suze’s cabin door and saw many of the Veritas pointing and talking excitedly. His eyes followed he pointing and there seemed to be some commotion on the hillside on the border of the Center Place. It was hard to make out faces, but he immediately recognized the garb of Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah. Tu-Swift swallowed hard and his heart began to beat hard. He loved Suze, but he missed Cat Eyes so much! He hadn’t realized till this moment how much he missed her. He forgot about his hurt knee entirely and loped toward the commotion. He spotted Trunk of Tree next — hard to miss his big frame — and he smiled to recognize Fleet of Foot. And, he nodded as he saw Jaccim. What was going on? Why were they shouting at each other? Where was Cat Eyes?

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That must be her, he thought, but even as he thought it, he realized, no, she could have changed that much. Now, he began to fear something horrible had happened. He drew even closer. There were guards shouting at Trunk of Tree and he was shouting back.

Tu-Swift stopped and got no closer. Even at his age, he recognized that when there is a shouting match, adding more people, generally doesn’t improve the situation. At last, he began to “get” what was happening. This was indeed the party returning from the attempt to visit the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks, but the Veritas guards here had been told to keep the party away from the central village. Tu-Swift wondered whether his sister, Many Paths had given that order or if it had been She Who Saves Many Lives. Many Paths was fairly well recovered but not quite. Just then, he notice She Who Saves Many Lives stride past him and walk toward the shouting match.

Tu-Swift wondered how such an ancient lady had caught up with him so quickly. He smiled as he recalled his sister remarking on several occasions that it seemed as though She Who Sees Many Lives had an almost magical intuition to know where she was most needed and appear there. So, thought Tu-Swift, this is what she was talking about. He smiled.

As She Who Saves Many Lives approached she shot her right hand out holding her staff and said, “SILENCE!”

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And silence ensued. And then, her voice rang out loud and true.

“Now, listen to me. It is I who ordered the guards to stop you here. We welcome you back and we are all eager to learn of your travels. But you must listen! We have a plague here. Many of us are sick! Some have died. Many Paths herself is just now recovering. This sickness covers you with ugly red dots and gives you a high fever. It is just like mold on fruit or the white powder flies on leaves. It goes from one person to another. We don’t know yet whether all of us will get sick or just some of us. It’s possible — not likely but possible — that everyone here will die. In that case, for the people not to die, you must stay away from us for a time. I know you are all eager to see us and as I said, we are just as eager to see you! But you cannot come any closer right now.”

The returning Veritas murmured but they all nodded their heads to signal their understanding — all save Trunk of Tree who bellowed, “I live here! This is my village. It is not up to you, I say with great respect — it is not up to you.”

The strong voice of She Who Saves Many Lives sung out, “You may well wonder where and how this plague came upon us. I will tell you. We had visitors from the Z-Lotz and we believe we got it from them. In fact, we think they did it on purpose. They also gave us a gift of something they call “glass” which has caused grievous wounds and sickness in Stone Chipper and his son, Sees Horses. Now, for the sake of the Great Bear in the Sky, tell us whether there really are Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. And, now, I see that you have brought the answer with you, if I am not mistaken.”

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She Who Saves Many Lives nodded and put her hand out toward Flowing Waters and said in a softer, but still carrying tone, “Welcome sister. I am called She Who Saves Many Lives though I am afraid it is a bit of a misnomer. It is the people themselves who save lives because they learn much, and they help each other out, and when they disagree they talk things out until they agree or make arrangements not to interfere with each other. I can see by your face that you understand me, so you must be from our cousins over the Twin Peaks. I’m sorry we have to keep you away until we stop getting sick over here. Are you kin to Cat Eyes?”

“I understand, She Who Saves Many Lives. I am called by the name “Flowing Waters” because somehow, what I see flows like water out of my fingers and into paintings. I am indeed from the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks as you say. Though we had a legend that you were the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks.” She smiled and paused.

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She Who Saves Many Lives laughed aloud and most of the Veritas joined in. Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah joined in. Jaccim looked from one face to another and could not understand why everyone was laughing.

She Who Saves Many Lives continued, “Trunk of Tree. You were in charge of this expedition and I see that you were successful! Congratulations! Believe me, we want you to come and celebrate as is our way as soon as we possibly can. It would be a fine way to repay your wisdom and courage to give some dread disease that might kill you, right? What would Eagle Eyes think of us all when she returns here. Can you imagine that conversation? She would say, ‘Look, we brought back a killing stick. What of Trunk of Tree? Was he also successful? I want to see him!’ And, then I would say, ‘Oh, yes he was successful. I can show you where his body is buried.’ And then she would say, ‘How did he die?’ And, then, I would say, ‘Oh, yes, well, everyone in the village was deathly ill so we had him come in and catch the disease and die rather than having him keep a safe distance for a time. I hope we did the right thing. He very much wanted to get in the village.’

And, though no-one can predict the future with certainty, I imagine that she would say something like, ‘How stupid!’ and I think she would be correct. And she would be very sad to know you were dead and that rather than dying as a hero in battle fighting to protect your village, instead you died of red pimple disease because you couldn’t be bothered camping at a safe distance. I cannot have that on my head. And, by he way, she wouldn’t just blame me; she would blame the whole of the Veritas. How could a village be so stupid as to let one of her mightiest and bravest warriors needlessly die? And she would be right to blame the whole village. Including you.

Enough of this though, tell us your exciting news. Are all the Veritas on the other side of the Twin Mountains as charming and comely as Flowing Waters and Cat Eyes? And where is Cat Eyes, though I suspect I know. And, how did you get there? We want to hear the whole story, but for now, the essence will do.”

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Trunk of Tree tried to organize things in his head. What to say first? Most important, the Veritas. “Yes, there are Veritas — many of them — on the other side of the Twin Peaks. They have no interaction with other tribes except for the predations of the ROI and the Z-Lotz. Cat Eyes — she had hoped to see her parents, but they had left to try to find her and were never heard from again. And… and … oh, yes so she is staying there with her people. I think she really likes the mint tea they serve there. And, we went through a tunnel but not a dirt tunnel. It was more like a … well, I guess what Cat Eyes called a ‘City.’ Smooth. Dark. But lights. Then, we came back.”

She Who Saves Many Lives blinked a few times. “Thank you, Trunk of Tree. This is exciting news you bring, indeed. Again, Congratulations. Anyone else have any observations?”

Fleet of Foot glanced at Trunk of Tree, then added, “The Veritas have a leader named ‘Gentle Talons.’ They had a prophesy for someone such as Cat Eyes to return and bring a great truth. And, as it turns out, she did — exactly that! You see, our cousins over the Mountains had excavated a huge underground pantry. But instead of food for the body in the pantry, this giant pantry — which, it turns out, is called a ‘library’, contains thousands of what they call ‘books.’ They had no idea what those things were! They knew they were filled with marks. But no-one knew what those marks meant. Then, Cat Eyes appeared, and — because of what she and Tu-Swift had discovered, they could begin to decode every one of these books! The books are filled with important knowledge! It was so lucky that Cat Eyes came here — and that she and Tu-Swift were friends! Now, we can all find out so much more about the world. She needs to stay there for now because she is by far the fastest and best decoder they have. And, oh, by the way, Tu-Swift, I have two books for you on training birds. She also wrote a small book just for you personally, but — but — well, I eventually need to see you about it in person.”

Tu-Swift brightened at that. He was glad that Suze was back in the cabin. Then, he realized he would have turned even brighter still and she would have seen it. I need to see her! he thought. I miss Cat Eyes! I could take Suze. I have to wait though till no-one is sick. We don’t want to take our disease to the Veritas on the other side of the Twin Peaks. Imagine! I go see Cat Eyes and get her entire tribe of cousins sick. What a great friend I would be!

It proved frustrating, not only for Trunk of Tree, but for everyone not to be able to clasp hands, hug, and have these information exchanges and congratulations be much more intimate and extended. But, even the sweetest nuts have a hard shell. All of the Veritas knew that. It there were not a hard shell, that might seem more convenient for the moment you are trying to open it. But, of course, a moment more of thought would reveal that the nuts would likely never survive to reach a human hand or a human mouth. Nuts without any such shell would be eaten by the small beast that were out all the time looking for food.

The exchanges lasted until sundown whereupon the returning exploration party made camp on the outskirts. After much dialogue, they decided that the “gift books” would be put some ways from their campsite and left there overnight. Tu-Swift and others would only collect their books tomorrow evening.

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Tu-Swift, despite having talked himself hoarse, found his head still swirling with so many additional questions. He went in to check on Suze. He had already decided that he would wait until she was fully recovered before broaching the subject of visiting the … visiting the library. That was the way to put it so that she would want to go. Suze was as exciting as anyone about this writing and reading. Although she needed her rest, he could not keep from her the news about the library! “Suze! Suze! Wake up! I’ve got something amazing to tell you. Suze!”

His voice dropped to a plea. “Suze?”

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——————————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myth of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

Essays on America: Unmasked

Essays on America: Happy Talk Lies

The Watershed Virus

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Truth Train

Myths of the Veritas: Many Paths Awakes

09 Tuesday Jun 2020

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

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Democracy, empathy, ethics, fascism, fiction, leadership, legend, myth, politics, science, truth, Veritas

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For three days and three nights, Tu-Swift and She Who Saves Many Lives slept little and ate less. They worked hard to keep Many Paths cool in the hot summer days. That was far from their only labor however. Among the Veritas, a large number fell ill with the mysterious plague of red dots. Fever and delirium were common as well as almost constant sleep. One had died.

It fell upon the few who somehow stayed well, including Tu-Swift and the elder Shaman to prepare food as well as care for the sick. No-one worked on decoding what the Z-Lotz had called “books.” No-one hunted or gathered food. Only the well were hungry. The sick had no appetite and little energy. It was difficult even to convince them to drink a little of the tea that the Elder Leader prepared with rose hips, honey, black elderberry and willow bark. Usually, after some coaxing, they could only manage a few sips and then, they fell back into a restless sleep.

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On the third night, just as Tu-Swift began to nod off for a well-deserved nap, Many Paths sat bolt upright. She cried out, “Shadow Walker!! Shadow Walker!!” Tu-Swift and She Who Saves Many Lives both went to Many Paths to reassure her.

Many Paths frowned in the dark room. “Old Mother? Honored Shaman? Why are you in my cabin? Where is Shadow Walker?”

She Who Saves Many Lives patted Many Paths on the shoulder and said, “You are in my cabin, not yours, Sweet Daughter. You came in her quite ill and somewhat delirious. Tu-Swift is here too. He was tending to you. Your fever has broken and perhaps you will now be on the mend. You should continue to rest though.”

Many Paths persisted. “Where is Shadow Walker though? Is he well?”

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Tu-Swift took his sister’s hand, “Many Paths, I am glad you are getting stronger. Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes went to see what is happening with the Z-Lotz; perhaps steal some Killing Sticks so that we might better prepare to fight against such weapons. Do you remember?”

Many Paths looked around the room, lit only by a few moonbeams. Everything was out of place. Then, she remembered. She wasn’t in her cabin. But her mind, her memory, still seemed out of place. Shadow Walker had gone off with Eagle Eyes? Her friend? Why, she wondered, had Shadow Walker preferred Eagle Eyes? Hadn’t they…? Were not she and Shadow Walker connected forever by love? She said aloud, “Are we divorced?”

Tu-Swift smiled. “No, sister. No, what do you mean? You and Shadow Walker are in love. Everyone knows that! It’s obvious.”

“Then, where is Shadow Walker? Why did he go off with my friend Eagle Eyes? Where are the Rings of Empathy? Did Trunk of Tree take them? Where is he? Isn’t he supposed to be with Eagle Eyes? Did he go too?”

She Who Saves Many Lives sighed. She patted Many Paths. “All is well with you and Shadow Walker, my dear. We were visited by the Z-Lotz. A few days later, we discovered that one of their so-called gifts was a poison rock that they called glass. Stone Chipper and his son, Sees Horses, both have sick hands. We have kept everyone else far away from this glass. I am not sure, but it seems that these Z-Lotz …”

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Many Paths interrupted her in a panic (which was uncharacteristic of the Veritas in general and almost never happened when She Who Saves Many Lives spoke). “But where is Shadow Walker? Is he okay? Where are the rings?”

She Who Saves Many Lives put up her hand. “Many Paths. All will be well. Be patient. I will answer all your questions. There is much to tell. And all will be told to you. But you will learn more quickly if you do not ask so many questions.”

Many Paths squeezed the hand of She Who Saves Many Lives. “I’m sorry. Please tell me in your own time.”

She Who Saves Many Lives nodded her head and squeezed the hand of Many Paths. “Your well-earned Rings of Empathy are right with you in your pouch as always. Perhaps you should hold them and you might feel better.”

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Many Paths reached for the soft leather pouch and took it into her hand. It did calm her. And, then, she remembered to breathe. And, to take inventory. She was alive. She could hear. She could feel. She could see. She could remember, but not very well, apparently.

She Who Saves Many Lives continued. “Many were involved in the tribe’s decision to send out two scouting parties. Shadow Walker, strong and smart, was chosen to visit the Z-Lotz. Eagle Eyes went with him because she has seen this great city before and knows a way in. Also, as you know, Eagle Eyes usually sees trouble before any trouble sees her. It is a dangerous mission. That, no one can doubt. But not finding out more about Killing Sticks could also be dangerous. The Z-Lotz are not to be trusted. If you recall, Cat Eyes, who lived among the ROI and the Z-Lotz, claims that the wealthy among the Z-Lotz do not even believe in their rigid belief system. They only use it to fool everyone else. When they visited us, they insisted that you believe as they believe — even though they couldn’t even tell you what that was! They wanted you to go visit them — alone! I do not trust them at all. And, of course, they are now led by our old “friend” NUT-PI. He is a terrible leader and lost almost his entire tribe. It is astounding that the Z-Lotz, or anyone else, would chose such a man as a leader.”

The Older Leader paused. “Does any of this sound familiar? There is no rushing danger, Many Paths. If you need to go back to sleep awhile, that’s fine. You are better but by no means well. The people need you as a healthy leader.”

Many Paths nodded. “You are helping me put my memory rooms back in order. I remember everything clearly except — maybe a week or so seems less clear than everything else. Isn’t that odd? Anyway, please tell me the rest. I am tired. But I cannot sleep until I hear the rest. How are the people?”

She Who Saves Many Lives continued, “There are many who are sick just as you were. Luckily, not all of have gotten ill, but most have. It might be that the Z-Lotz intentionally brought this illness but … “

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“What!? No, surely, not even a people who steal children and make Killing Sticks would be so … low … so evil … so cowardly as to intentionally bring a plague to us! I’m sorry Revered One; I interrupted again. I’m not quite myself yet. Please continue.”

She Who Saves Many Lives got up to open some slats so that more moonlight could illustrate the rest of her tale. Then, she returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “You may recall that Cat Eyes told us of Veritas brothers and sisters who live over the Twin Peaks. So Fleet of Foot, Cat Eyes, Trunk of Tree, and our friends from the Nomads of the South accompanied them. Jaccim said he knew a different way and so he led them. We know they got there safely. But they have not yet returned.”

Many Paths nodded and felt her eyelids begin to droop. “Perhaps I will rest now.” She closed her eyes and began to relax. Then, she sat bolt upright again. “Wait! What do you mean you know that they made it over the twin mountains when they haven’t returned? How?”

She Who Saves Many Lives smiled, “Ah, for that, Dear One, you must thank your brother Tu-Swift, Suze, and your friend Eagle Eyes! They have been training the Eagles and Hawks to deliver messages. And, Cat Eyes sent such a message back here.”

Many Paths smiled at her brother. “That’s amazing!”

selective photography of flying black falcon

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Tu-Swift returned the smile and said, “Thanks! And, Cat Eyes didn’t just send a pre-arranged signal. She wrote to me! She wrote to me! She said: ‘All safe. Kin here. Much wisdom.’ She fit all that in small marks and attached it to Smart One.”

Many Paths tilted her head and said, “Smart One? Oh, that’s the name of the eagle?”

Tu-Swift smiled. “Yes, and it seems your brain has emerged from the fog. Now, go back to sleep. All will be well.”

“Knowing I have such a clever brother,” said Many Paths. “That should help me sleep. More Veritas. It’s true. Hmm.” Many Paths, the Rings of Empathy still grasped in her hand, began to imagine the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks and how that first recent meeting must have gone. She wondered how joyous Cat Eyes had felt. Had she met her parents? What would that be like?

The musings of Many Paths soon became images and the images soon became dreams.

Tu-Swift glanced at She Who Saves Many Lives and spoke. “She seems better at last! Suze was supposed to come see me here at moonrise. And, the last time I saw her, she felt a little ill. I’m going to check on her.” Tu-Swift exited the cabin of She Who Saves Many Lives and she watched his silhouette in the moonlight. He still walked with a slight limp, but, thought the Elder, to my old eyes, it seems that his limp continues to lessen over time. Perhaps, she thought, we should try spicebush and witch hazel hot poultice on that knee.

The inner eye of She Who Saves Many Lives began to swirl like the darkest of storms. Killing Sticks. My dream of Killing Sticks even before we knew of them. People as evil as NUT-PI. The corruption of ALT-R and POND MUD. Of course, the world has always had death, she thought, but this is something different. Have none of these people heard “The Myth of the Orange Man”? How could they think the same horrible consequences would be avoided. If you subvert language in order to mislead people and steal from them, it destroys trust. It destroys real communication. It destroys pleasure and love. It destroys everything. We then are just single individuals mistrusting and fearful of everyone else and have no real way to survive as such. And, even if we did… what kind of life would that be?

And yet, thought the Tribe Elder, there are these amazing young people who will be here after me. Many Paths, Cat Eyes, Eagle Eyes, Tu-Swift and so many others. The heart of the Veritas still values love and truth and honor. Plague or no plague. Evil or no evil. We who are on the side of life will prevail. Anyone can die any time. Everyone will die eventually. But life? Life is safe. Life is huge. Life is diverse. Life is endlessly creative and inventive. Life listens to the sounds of the truth. Life looks at reality so that the truth is revealed. Life feels and learns and thinks and cooperates and loves. Of course, life will survive.

And then, despite her dark prophetic dream; despite the threat of the Z-Lotz and the remnants of the ROI with their Killing Sticks; despite the disease that was spreading among the Z-Lotz, the elder leader smiled because she knew in her heart; she knew with absolute certainty of logic that Life itself was well beyond the clutches of one such as NUT-PI. And as she smiled, knowing the final outcome regardless of the inevitable pain along the way, she fell into one of the most restful and peaceful sleeps of her long and loving life.

The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Author Page on Amazon

https://petersironwood.wordpress.com/2017/03/09/math-class-who-are-you/

Myths of the Veritas: Books

26 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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Tags

bullying, Democracy, ecology, empathy, ethics, fiction, greed, harmony, history, leadership, legends, lying, myth, politics, power, science, truth

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Fleet of Foot took a deep breath. The air still held a bit of chill. In this place, the sun had difficulty finding and warming the land. He enjoyed the chill but also enjoyed the warmth when if finally came. He wondered how these Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Peaks regarded him and his companions.

He realized that, whereas the Veritas who lived near the Forgotten Field of Flowers had had many interactions with a number of different tribes within living memory, the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks had had only three such “interactions” in memory and all had been disastrous raids where children had been stolen and taken off on horseback before a reasonable defense could be mounted. Of course, they had tried to track down The People Who Steal Children, but such tracks had led to a solid wall of rock that none could penetrate. Others, including the parents of Cat Eyes, Of the Night and Gathers Acorns, had attempted to cross the treacherous melting glaciers. None had returned.

Fleet of Foot looked over at Cat Eyes who sat in a circle with a dozen of her kin and they pored over some of the mysterious markings. The strange pupils of Cat Eyes had made her immediately recognizable to everyone here except the young children. This had no doubt played a part in their easy acceptance of Cat Eyes though the lucky accident — if that’s what it was — of her fulfilling a prophesy — made what would have been acceptance and rejoicing into something more — something like the reverence that everyone in his own land felt for She Who Saves Many Lives. And yet, Cat Eyes was so much younger. He watched her — she seemed so at home with everyone here. Fleet of Foot remembered his former friends ALT-R and POND MUD. They — or at least ALT-R would have used the good feeling to gain power or wangle extra portions of delicacies. But this was not the nature of Cat Eyes. She got along with everyone of every age. Most of those in the circle were young but everyone was interested in the decoding.

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It was important work in the eyes of these Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Peaks. Even Gentle Talons sat sometimes in the circle learning the keys to understanding the markings and then, taking one of the collections and trying to make sense of it. It was a halting and laborious process. There were so many to decode! Each one was like a precious jewel. Each one sparkled and reflected a new light on what was all about them. Some told of medicines that had been forgotten. Some told of strange mythologies about the earth and the stars and the sky wanderers. Some described impossible creatures, both humorous and terrible; both gigantic and some so small one could not even see them!

Each day, the Veritas learned something. And each day was pleasant. Yet, each and every day, Fleet of Foot felt a stronger and stronger tug to return to his own home. Trunk of Tree had begun to insist that they return days ago. He felt that they had accomplished their mission and learned much besides. Fleet of Foot looked up and saw that Trunk of Tree strode toward him. Fleet of Foot sighed. For he knew that Trunk of Tree was about to argue, yet again, that they should return with their news to the Center Place of the Veritas.

“Good morning, Fleet of Foot. See yonder Cat Eyes. She has found her home. That seems clear. What of us? Our home is also beautiful. Let us arrange to go. Leave her here. Let’s get back. We can’t take all those … things … with us!”

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He gestured toward the cliffs where most of these strange boxes of knowledge were still among the many unexplored shelves. Maybe we could take a few. Maybe some of these Veritas will want to accompany us. But we need to get back! We have no idea what Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker have found. We have no idea whether — even now — our Center Place may be under attack with Killing Sticks. We’re well rested. These Veritas have no Killing Sticks. What use are they? Let’s go.”

Fleet of Foot sighed. He felt much as Trunk of Tree felt. He worried about the Center Place. Yet, the decoding work seemed very important as well. It was as though — it was a kind of magic. Cat Eyes and those she had taught were discovering things — some ridiculous of course, like the fish with eight arms and a beak who lives in a giant lake or large birds who cannot fly and little bugs so small they cannot be seen but still make people sick. Or the notions about the sky wanderers and the sun. Absurd, but still interesting.

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Yet other things seemed very useful: medicines, ways to prepare foods, a description of a way to lengthen one’s arm with a stick in order to throw a spear faster and farther. No-one had been successful at actually making such a device though. Perhaps it was also fanciful. Why would
“The Ancients” mix together so many fanciful things with useful information? It’s a mystery.

Fleet of Foot nodded to Trunk of Tree. “There is much truth in what you say, Trunk of Tree. I too am eager to return. I suppose — I am not entirely convinced that the tunnel will even work. It was too … it seems now more like a dream I had than a reality. Somehow, I too worry about the Center Place. Perhaps most of us should return now. Let’s see how the others feel.”

“Why? Many Paths made me the leader. I don’t see why you keep thinking I should see how the others feel.”

Fleet of Foot sighed and looked at Trunk of Tree. “I know you don’t, Trunk of Tree. I have some trouble to explain it. If we all understand how each of us feels, then, when something happens we can work together better. We don’t have to stop in the middle of an emergency and have a discussion when there is no time for a discussion. Each person knows — or at least makes a good guess — about how every other person will react.”

“If everyone would just follow my orders, we would all know too. Because everyone would follow my orders. If we did that….” Trunk of Tree gestured with his open hands but added no words of clarification.

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“If we did that we would still be stuck in the tunnel. In fact, if we did that, we wouldn’t have even found the tunnel. Do you really want to decide for others whether they should go or stay? How might you make such a decision without talking with them?”

“I know it’s important that we go back. We have information that we came to get. And, it may be important. And, you just said you feel the same way. Let’s just go! Come on Fleet of Foot.”

“I think most will agree with you, but let’s hear their voices. Yes, we have learned some important things, but every day that Cat Eyes works with those — cousins of hers, we learn more about the world that we never knew.”

“And we learn nonsense as well! What use it is to think about — the other day, I overheard Cat Eyes and her friends talking about a lake that is so large you cannot see across it! What nonsense. And, it tastes like salt. And, it has waves as high as a tree. What use are such ramblings. These things do not exist. I don’t believe any of it when there is so much that…now what?”

There was commotion around the small circle of cousins. They all seemed to be talking at once. A small crowd was gathering around the circle and adding to the general commotion. As the crowd grew, others began to pause in their tasks and walk over to see what was happening. At last, Gentle Talons came over and used his not inconsiderable voice to quiet the crowd.

“Please. Please! One at a time. What is all this ado about?” He looked directly at Cat Eyes, somewhat accusingly, somewhat wonderingly.

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“Oh, Gentle Talons, we have been decoding this book — for that is what they are called — all of them are called “books” — this book is called The Book of Civilizations. And it … it says that all of this — she gestured with both her arms, palms up, to sweep in the entire excavated cave was made by an ancient people…that there have been many great gatherings of people. Such people learned many things and had comfortable lives. And they had many wondrous things. They explored everywhere and learned much.”

It became clear that Cat Eyes, for some strange reason, was having trouble speaking. She was swallowing hard, holding back tears.

The booming voice of Gentle Talons rang out, “Please, sister, continue. What? Where are these civilizations?”

Trunk of Tree and Fleet of Foot had walked over to watch more closely. Fleet of Foot craned his neck and wedged his way forward to look more closely upon the face of Cat Eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. What is going on, he wondered. How can mere … markings on the page cause such pain? Books? She had called them books? But how can they cause tears? He forced his way into the circle and took the hands of Cat Eyes, holding them gently in her own.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Cat Eyes? Why do these tears flow on your cheeks? What strange magic is in these — books?”

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Cat Eyes squeezed the hands of Fleet of Foot and drew strength from them. She took several deep breaths and continued. “This book — this book tells of many wondrous civilizations. They used wisdom and experience much as we ourselves do. They learned from each other. They loved each other. They ensured that they had enough food and yet … each of them … each of these ancient peoples … destroyed themselves. But it’s worse than that. The destroyed themselves through greed and hubris. They sought to … they knew about the Myth of the Orange Man. They knew that lying and greed destroyed other, earlier peoples. And, yet, each time, they stopped … they stopped being kin and part of nature. They knew that greed had killed other civilizations before them.” Cat Eyes shook her head and sighed before continuing on.

“Yet, each new civilization thought — somehow — it would be different for them. Of course, it was not different. Lies and greed and putting power over truth destroyed every single one of them. The story seems so real. But — how can it be? How could people know such greed and lies led to so much death and destruction and yet — they did it over and over again? According to this….” Cat Eyes stopped. She shook her head. She gulped and slowed her breathing.

At last, she was able to continue. “According to this book, there are much worse weapons than Killing Sticks. And they have been used to destroy untold numbers of people. And, after the greedy take everything and kill everyone, they die too! Because — in all their greed, they forgot how to live without stealing from others. And this didn’t happen just once. It’s happened over and over. How can this be? It can’t be true.”

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All had heard her words. And all reflected silently upon them.

After some moments, Cat Eyes continued. “It can’t be true. And yet — I think it is — the book says that after a time, the greedy people begin to believe exactly that — that it cannot be true — and so — they make the same exact mistakes again. And again. And again. It seems impossible and yet…where are they? Where are the people who made these books and these caves? It seems as though they knew all of this — and allowed greed and lies to destroy them anyway! Are we doomed to be that stupid yet again?”

Cat Eyes bit her lip and looked up at the eyes of each person she could see around her. No-one answered. She ended looking into the eyes of Fleet of Foot. But he too remained silent.

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——————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

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Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

Essays on America: A Lot is not a Little.

The Anti-Academic Pandemic

The Truth Train

Essays on America: You Bet Your Life

A Mere House of Mirror

19 Sunday Apr 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

bias, Carnival, COVID19, empathy, fiction, Fun House, insight, Mirrors, prejudice, racism, relationships, religion, short story, truth

Chapter One: Mere Mirror

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The hot, humid, cloudless August day offered not the slightest breeze of comfort. The girls had finished their snow cones only three minutes ago, and they already felt the stifling heat. They looked around for some shade. Jean jumped up and down and pointed excitedly at the large wooden structure ahead of them.

“Jean, I don’t want to go in there. I hate Fun Houses.”

“This one’s cool, Wilm. Totally! Outstanding mirrors.”

The sun shimmered on the Rye Playland sidewalks. Sweat beaded on Willamette’s forehead. “Some old pervert’s always trying to grab at you in there.”

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Jean nodded and then laughed. “Maybe some cute young guys too. Ever think of that? Come on!”

“I don’t want to be groped by anybody, Jean!”

“No, me either. But, you know we might meet some cute guys. What say, Wilm?”

Willamette half-smiled in surrender. They sauntered over, trying to time their arrival to coincide with any nearby hunks. Sure enough, a couple cute guys were about to get in line behind them when two white trash hillbillies slid in first.

Willamette rolled her eyes, knowing that some stupid skeleton would flash in front of her and make her scream and she told herself she wouldn’t but she always did anyway. She wondered why she had let Jean talk her into this.

This time was no different. She screamed when the skeleton jumped out, just as she knew she would. She cursed at herself for it. Then, she nearly fell flat on her face when they stepped onto the stupid steel rollers. She was about to protest to Jean that she still hated these places. But Jean had disappeared. Willamette could see the house of mirrors around the corner. At least, she thought, this part won’t be scary.

Willamette looked in the first mirror. Her eyes Zombied. In the mirror in front of her stared a horrified old man with pasty white skin and unkempt dirty black hair. What an illusion! She laughed. But the laugh that came out was an old man’s whisky-roughened laugh. Her eyes slowly gazed down at her hands.

Her hands were gone.

In their place were the gnarled fingers of an old man, white skin, blue veins, dirty fingernails.

She screamed.

And, then she screamed at the gravely sound of her own voice.

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Chapter Two: Mirror, Mere

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“Come on, y’all’ll enjoy it.”

“Sounds stupid. Ain’t been in a ‘Scare Houses’ since I was twelve.”

“This here one’s great!” Jay-Bob snickered and winked at his buddy, Willard. “’Sides, you can cop a feel.”

Willard’s pale skinny finger fluttered toward the facade. “Looks like the same stupid grinnin’ clown and the same ugly witch as back in ‘Bama.’ What’s so special about this’n?”

“These New York dudes got themselves some whiskey cool mirrors.”

“One’s thang’s for danged sure. These here Ryeland tickets costs ’bout ten times our state fair for the same danged rides.”

“Come on, Willard, give it a go.”

“Fine.” Willard spied two teenage girls joining the line, and sidled in behind them. One had tight slacks but the other wore a loose cotton dress. Didn’t she know about that blast of air? Or, maybe she did. Liked, in fact, showing off her panties. Pink? Black? He wondered to himself.

The dark, the pop-ups, the rollers. Willard’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dark. The youngsters eyes adapted much faster and they immediately sped ahead out of groping range. What’s next? Stupid House of Mirrors. Willard turned the corner. Where the hell was Gene?

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“Screw him,” he muttered aloud and wondered whether he’d be a beanpole or a midget.

He looked in the mirror.

Willard didn’t want anyone else to hear his question so he used a stage whisper — though he had no idea what that term meant.

“What the — ! Gene, how they do that?”

But Gene had disappeared.

Willard blinked again at the cute, black teenage girl gaping at him in the

mirror; blinked; stared down to see skinny black hairless arms and the bluely

sparkled fingernails; screamed in that high girly voice; watched the ample

heaving breasts.

Then he screamed even louder at the sound of his thin soprano voice.

————————————————-

Chapter Three: Mirror, Mirror

“So, how’d we do, Gene?”

“Mmmm. The conditions were there, but no insight. No change. No enlightenment. Frankly, I think we’re in trouble, Will.”

“Drat.”

“Maybe the thing with human beings is…. I don’t know. If they’re too freaked out, they can’t reflect on their own prejudices. In fact, I don’t think they can reflect on anything. They just become scared bunnies.”

“But if they are too comfortable, they never change. They just sit and — whoa! — Gene? What was that kind of trumpet blast sort of noise?”

“What do you think? We’re being called into judgment.”

“Already? Where? Over there? It’s so damned bright!”

“God is light. No surprise there. Hey, we gave it our all.”

“Small comfort, Gene, when we both fry to embers. I can’t see a thing.”

“It’s too bright. There are brilliant lights omnipresently. All places seem to be light, bathed in light, reflecting light. I can’t see where I’m going.”

“All paths lead to the one path.”

“What? Oh, great, we’re about to be fried and you’re waxing philosophical. Not to mention Zen. Wrong religion. What is it about you people?”

“We what people? Black people? Is that what you mean? People of color?”

“Christ, Will, how many millennia have you known me? No, of course I don’t mean because you’re black! I mean, ‘you people’ as in you intuitive types. You have to learn to think things through logically.”

“Excuse me, Gene, but you have to learn to listen to your intuitions! God IS ZEN.”

“COME HITHER!” trumpeted God.

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———————————

Chapter Four: Mere, Mere

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“What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’re the real black.”

“You’re the real whitey.”

“You’re just a youngster.”

“You’re old.”

“You’re a thievin’ female wench. Give me my body back!”

“You pervert dirty old man! Your body disgusts me!”

“You stole my body!”

“Man! What?! Why on God’s green earth would I covet this ancient body? Why? I had my whole life ahead of me. I hate crappy wrinkled fingers — fatty yucky sides!”

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“Yeah, well I miss my –. Never mind. I liked bein’ a man.”

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They sat on very separate stumps in an unending forest of stumps. Overhead, the sky shone pale blue. No crows cawed in the distance. No planes vapor-trailed. No faraway cars hummed along the Interstate. They stared into the infinite horizon of flat waveless ocean. They sat silent for a long, long time.

Finally, s/he spoke. “Does it really matter? I mean, here, does it matter?”

“Maybe it don’t. You might have a point.”

They sat for a moment looking out silently at the endless sea.

“Did it ever really matter? Really?”

“Dunno. But we need water. Fer sher. Not sea water. Fresh water.”

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“Check. I’ll search that-away. Yell if you find anything. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Willamette and Willard took ten steps apart; turned back simultaneously, stared, shook their heads in unison and laughed. It can’t be truly said that it was a hearty laugh, or even a pure laugh, but it was a laugh. It was a beginning.

How to find water? If water reflects sky, might not sky reflect water to those with open eyes and open hearts …when human survival depends upon it?

One may hope. One may hope.

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—————————

Essays on America: Labelism

Pattern for Collaboration: Find and Utilize Diversity

America

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Gifts that Keep on Giving

18 Saturday Apr 2020

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

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Tags

disease, empathy, ethics, fever, fiction, illness, leadership, legends, life, medicine, myth, pandemic, stories, truth

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Many Paths woke with a start. She felt unusually cold for a summer morning. It felt as though a cool breeze was slicing through the wall of their cabin. She turned toward Shadow Walker’s side of the bed to tease him again about not sufficiently caulking the spaces between the logs. Then, she sighed, recalling that he was gone. Again.

Ah, well, she thought, I can do it myself later today. Perhaps I can get Tu-Swift to help. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her sleeping pallet. The room swam before her eyes. She wondered what was going on. She had heard about so-called “Dances of the Earth” but had never felt one. Fear for her people tugged at her heart. She put her eye close to one of the large openings between the logs and peered outside. The bright light of day seemed to stab her eye and she recoiled quickly. The room seemed to spin again. “I am not myself” she said aloud.

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She put her hands on her knees and stood slowly. She noticed that her hands were sweating. But she was freezing cold. She staggered toward the door and felt as though she needed to begin her nights sleep — not the usual energy of morning. She drew back the deerskin covering of the cabin and once again, the bright morning sunlight seemed to stab at her eyes. She jerked her head back and again felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.

The light was too bright. For one thing….

“Good morning, Many Paths! You slept well, I see!” He chuckled. “But you’re not alone. It seems everyone slept late today! Too much of a feast last night, I guess.”

The image of Tu-Swift swung into view. “Good morning. No, actually, I didn’t … I don’t know. I don’t feel right.”

Tu-Swift took a few steps toward her and peered more closely. He’s smile fell to pieces like a dropped vase. “Sister, you do not look good. And… and your face is covered with red dots. What is that?”

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Many Paths put her hands to her face. She could feel that the skin was bubbled with teeny mountains of skin. “I don’t feel good. I’m hot and cold at the same time.” She began to shiver.

“Come on!” said Tu-Swift. “Let me help you over to see She Who Saves Many Lives. Maybe she has seen this before. I wanted to talk with you any way.” He reached up and took her hand. She was so unsteady, he decided to take her by the arm instead. As he did so, her robe slipped up her arm and they both stared at her bare forearm which also was covered with tiny red dots. “What is that?!” he repeated with more urgency in his voice.

Many Paths felt weak and shaky. She couldn’t make herself think straight. She notice that Tu-Swift’s grip was powerful. He was growing up fast. Too fast. Too swift. She chuckled.

“What’s so funny, Many Paths? What are laughing about?”

“What?” she replied. “I don’t know. Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know, Sister. As I said, everyone felt lazy I guess. Too much food?”

“Food?” asked Many Paths. “No, thank you. I’m not really hungry. Not hungry exactly. Our guests? They are gone, right?”

“Yes, they left four days ago. Are you all right? And then Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes went to track them back and try to discover more about the Z-Lotz. Remember?”

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“Of course. Yes. That’s right. Why are you here? I thought you wanted to go with Suze … or Cat Eyes.”

“No, sister. You are definitely not well. I would like to have gone with Cat Eyes to see those Veritas over the twin peaks, but I am still not able to walk far or even ride. Sorry. It still bothers my knee. Anyway, I was coming to see you — I’ll tell you later. Here we are at the home of She Who Saves Many Lives. Ah, but I see we are not the first.”

She Who Saves Many Lives came to door of her cabin. “Welcome. I am glad you are here, Many Paths. I have a puzzle here and no solution. Can you show Many Paths your hands?”

Stone Chipper appeared in the doorway and nodded to Many Paths. “I am most glad to see you, Many Paths. I was scared. I came and spoke from your cabin door, but you did not answer. With the sun so high in the sky already, I assumed you had already gone out. I have had cuts and bruises of course but nothing like this. And my hands are quite tough normally.”

Many Paths seemed to forget for a moment her own malady and took too large a step forward, falling into the arms of Stone Chipper. “Are you all right, Many Paths?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes. What happened to your hands? They … boiling water? What…?” Many Paths suddenly sat on the edge of a bench near the door. She took the hands of Stone Chipper in her hands, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. And another. And another.

At last, she asked, quite calmly and coherently, “What did you do to your hands? You don’t know?”

Stone Chipper shook his head. “No.”

“Have you eaten anything unusual lately? Something not shared with the tribe because it was too small to bother with?”

Stone Chipper thought back over the last few days. “No. Nothing. Nothing unusual or unshared.”

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Many Paths tried to look into the heart and mind of Stone Chipper. He was clearly quite worried. Surely, he had burned his hands before. It hurt…but… “Does it feel burned?”

Stone Chipper nodded vigorously. “Yes. A bit different. But very much like a burn. But I haven’t burned myself! Not recently. And not like this. My hands. All over my hands? I would have noticed. Right? That’s what is scaring me. Not the burn. But how could I be burned like this and not even notice?”

Many Paths took another deep breath. “What have you had in your hands?”

“Just the usual, Many Paths. My tools. My stones. My food. And, that glass. You know, that the Z-Lotz gave us.”

Many Paths said, “You’ve been working with that gift? That stuff they called glass?”

Stone Chipper said, “Yes. Trying to. But it isn’t that good. Shiny. But rather useless. At least so far, I have not figured out how to shape it and it breaks so easily. I guess it’s just supposed to look pretty. It feels extremely smooth and slightly warm, come to think of it. But not hot enough to burn me, if that’s what it is.”

Many Paths looked at him more intently, “You said that it felt almost like a burn. How does it feel different?”

Stone Chipper. “I am not sure. But, usually, when you get burned, it is from the outside in. This feels almost like I am burned from the inside out. And, my hands feel just slightly less strong, as well. It’s very odd.”

Many Paths, “Do you think that somehow this glass caused these — burns?”

Stone Chipper thought for awhile. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I didn’t feel any burning until yesterday and I began working with it almost immediately. I was very curious. And hopeful. But so far — nothing. It just sits there and looks pretty. I guess I did — play with it a lot the first two days. I can’t say work, but turning, trying. And, here’s another thing. It’s no big deal, but you see this place where my hand has grown hard on the side of my thumb? But next to it…that is not from working stone. And it doesn’t look like these other spots. Could that be from the same thing?”

Many Paths looked over at She Who Saves Many Lives and said, “Have you seen such things, Oh, Wise One of the Shaman of She, She Who Saves Many Lives? Who were the others?”

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“No. I have not. I will, of course, search all my memories, in case one of them has fallen asleep behind the hut, but — as I am old and have many memories, that will take some time. Dreams may bring answers as well. My advice would be not to go anywhere near that glass. What do you think, Many Paths?”

Many Paths looked at She Who Saves Many Lives carefully. Ever since Many Paths had been declared the successor, She Who Saves Many Lives always deferred to Many Paths before giving advice. It still seems good advice though. And that was the important thing. “Yes, I concur. Where is it now?”

“My son decided to see whether he could — you think this is dangerous! I shouldn’t let him touch it either!” Stone Chipper turned and started running toward the spot where he kept his tools near the bend in the river where many stones collected. This is where He Who Sees Horses, his son, was probably working.

She Who Saves Many Lives walked forward and took the face of Many Paths in her hands. “Many Paths. You are not well. Not at all. And, I think you know it. Am I right?”

Many Paths nodded. “Yes. Though I do not know what is wrong. I haven’t touched the glass at all. I was curious but — I just had a very creepy feeling about those Z-Lotz who came here. I had a little of that feeling when they first got here. But once they said I was supposed to go alone to the Z-Lotz City? Really creepy. Something…not good. They brought a gift that they knew was poison? What kind of a person would do such a thing?”

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She Who Saves Many Lives tilted her head. “Many Paths. Listen. We must get you well. I need to cool you down. You have a high-summer-noon fever. We will then have time to discuss anything you like. But with a clearer head. You are not thinking quite clearly, but I will cool you down and then we can talk.”

Many Paths arose, unsure which way to turn. Tu-Swift looked at She Who Saves Many Lives and saw her gesture for them to enter her cabin. Together they laid Many Paths down. Many Paths took several deep breaths and fell asleep.

She Who Saves Many Lives looked at Tu-Swift and clapped him on both shoulders. “Tu-Swift, go to the Spring by the Lonely Tulip Tree and bring me a large skin of cold water. Hurry. I have to bring her fever down to early-summer-noon.”

She Who Saves Many Lives sat down on the edge of the sleeping pallet where Many Paths lay sleeping. She looked her over more thoroughly. Taking off these warming clothes will be good anyway. These tiny red dots are everywhere, she thought to herself.

“Foolish!” the old shaman muttered to herself in reproof. She shook her head and thought, I knew something was wicked about those visitors. We fell for it twice. Our scouts thought they came to trade the first time and they snuck up and killed them. And then stole Tu-Swift. And, now they obviously want to get Many Paths there alone in order to kill her. But even knowing all that, it didn’t occur to me that they would give a so-called gift that would burn a person’s hands. “Despicable!” she hissed aloud between her teeth.

“I swear,” she muttered, “if it’s the last thing I do, these people will pay for their so-called gift.” She breathed out. She breathed in. “Or gifts?” She began to wonder whether these red dots could be from some other so-called ‘gift’ of theirs? How can —? That is a great mystery. POND MUD and ALT-R and then they corrupted KAVA-NUT as well. NUT-PI. Killing Sticks. Why not be a loving part of life instead of being like them?

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She Who Saves Many Lives looked down at Many Paths. The truth is, she thought, I do love her like a daughter. She seems to be resting. Where is Tu-Swift? She walked to the entrance and stood on the threshold, taking in the harmony around her. The trees, the birds, the squirrels, and the Veritas. It was all in harmony. Of course, there is hunger and satiation; there is birth and there is death. But there is not … anywhere I can see … the evil that is in some human hearts to make everything like them or under their control … from where does such an evil arise … that what is said to be a gift is actually something horrible … against the harmony of life itself. She sighed. She looked around and filled her heart with the certain knowledge that all of this harmony was far more powerful than the evil in the very darkest of hearts. Evil can only destroy. And when enough is destroyed, the evil itself must die because — lacking love, it cannot create. It cannot create anything. Those who take such a path as that have already died inside. And they want all the world to be like they are.

She Who Saves Many Lives heard Many Paths stir and turned back inside to tend her. With Love.

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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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