True Believer

14 Thursday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, Uncategorized

Tags

ethics, fiction, mystery, preacher, religion, short story

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“Walllll,” began Grandpa; as he always did, with a long pause and a sucking of false teeth as he held that final labial consonant, “yep, there marched time, quicker than you believe, conceive…” (He had that oh-so-annoying habit: rhyming terminal words). The rain pitter-pattered on the canvas of the huge gray tent. Alabama’s like that: sunny days; drenching night-ways.

He gobbled another greedy shot of Jack Daniels. Spat. Rolled eyes to skies. (Oh, Lord, not me too.)

“…when Earth hung lower on firmament’s edge, and all of us’ns believed in the Testament. AMEN!”

His glory days as child wonder preacher got juiced up with juice. Even in those glory days, that sad, dark, wooden church held a few dozen and that was on special occasions. But it didn’t matter. Because in his mind, he was preachering before the congregation of a magnificent cathedral if not God’s own thrown.

“A-MEN!” he repeated, as though this one AMEN was the one that would put us over the top and headed toward the Promised Land. He said ‘Amen’ as though his life depended on it, and perhaps he really thought it did.

I could see Light, Holy Light, rekindle in his eyes. “We BELIEVED! And, God so loved the World of Alabama that He gave his only begotten Son, who won, the One thing that is Done. AMEN!”

Well, he foamed in fine form for this night, I thought, shaking my hanging head slowly, perhaps, showily.

“And, Oh, Dearest God, what have you revealed, concealed from your flock, your true stock?”

The crowd began to sway and have its say, “AMEN!” came the shout above the rain, explode the brain.

“The Ghost, the HOOOOOOOLY Ghost…will enter you and make Him Yours and He makes you His. Yeah! It’s the Way! Can I hear you say Yeah!?”

Shouts all around. Surrounded in sound, I found myself hoping for a Sign, a Line, a Find of Mind. I die. I see the Lie, but cannot fathom Why. Oh, Why?

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If Only: short mystery about a chance meeting on Tower Bridge around 1900.

Donnie Plays Bull-Dazzle Man.

Myths of the Veritas: Books

26 Sunday Apr 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

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

Author Page on Amazon

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

Gifts that Keep on Giving

18 Saturday Apr 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

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

756025C0-5F06-47D6-A778-08972B8C29E6_1_201_a

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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Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

Essays on America: The Game

Create Peace

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Author Page on Amazon

Tall Trees; High Vines

08 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by petersironwood in health, politics, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

disease, empathy, ethics, fables, leadership, legends, myths, pandemic, tracking, Veritas

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It only made sense for Eagle Eyes to go first. Still, it made Shadow Walker uneasy in some way he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — define. It was true enough that Eagle Eyes could spot a trail from farther away than — than anyone Shadow Walker could think of. But this trail…! It was just as easy to follow as the first one laid down by The People Who Steal Children. Shadow Walker, and the rest of the party had excused the obviousness of the first trail as being due to the difficulty of trying to hide horse tracks, but this time, the foursome they were tracking were all on foot.

Shadow Walker had been worried about waiting a day before beginning their tracking, but he was grateful that he had had that last day — and night — with Many Paths. He began to cast his mind back to those delicious moments…

Ahead of him, Shadow Walker saw Eagle Eyes put up her hand and crouch down. Shadow Walker dropped to his hands and knees and silently crawled up behind her. Then, she stood up and turned around.

“Look at these tracks, Shadow.”

Shadow Walker felt annoyed. First, she acted like there was danger. Now, she’s just talking out loud. But mainly, he realized, he was annoyed because she broke his pleasant revelry. He followed her pointing figure though.

“What is going on, Eagle Eyes?”

Eagle Eyes shook her head. “I’m not sure. The only thing … it reminds me of … one time, Stone Chipper smoked some Jimsonweed and … after awhile, he staggered about talking nonsense. I haven’t seen any Jimsonweed along this path. Did you happen to notice any?”

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“No, but … that’s a handprint. What…?” They followed the tracks down a steep hill. At the bottom, they found one of the Z-Lotz who had visited them lying face down on the ground, motionless. Shadow Walker knelt down and felt the neck. Cool, but not stone cold. Pulseless. He flipped the body over. Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker both stared. The face was covered with red sores.

Eagle Eyes pointed to a dry creek bed at the bottom of the hill. Shadow Walker nodded and they each took one leg and pulled the body to the bottom of the hill. In silence, they looked at each other. At last, Shadow Walker said, “What happened to his face?”

Eagle Eyes answered, “I have no idea. But it isn’t just his face. Look at his ankles and hands.”

Shadow Walker put down the two large rocks he had brought and he knelt down and explored the body more carefully. “You’re right Eagle Eyes. These red spots are everywhere. Is that what killed him? Was he poisoned?”

Eagle Eyes shook her head slowly. “I don’t have any idea.” After a pause she added, “I can’t think of anything even in a story that’s like this. Should we go back and tell the others?”

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Shadow Walker imagined that. They could make it back by nightfall, but then, the three they were still trailing would be two more days ahead. It was important information but… “Eagle Eyes, I think it takes too much time. And, we don’t really know anything. Not for sure. We don’t know what happened to him. What is there to tell that is a known truth?”

Eagle Eyes stared down at the body of a man she didn’t know, but still — the body of a man who was alive two days ago, now motionless. “Maybe we should search him for other clues as to what caused his death.”

“Like what? What are we looking for, Eagle Eyes?”

She slowly began to take the clothes off the man. “Come to think of it, these clothes might come in handy. We look like Veritas. Hopefully, we won’t be seen, but if we are seen, people will tend to ignore us if we look like Z-Lotz.”

“Right. If only we could sound like them.” Eagle Eyes chuckled. “These will do for you. I will stay unseen.”

After they had been piling rocks on the naked body for long enough that their arms began to tire, Eagle Eyes said, “I wonder whether they would have done the same if they came upon one of us dead upon the trail.”

“I don’t really know. I don’t really know any Z-Lotz. The closest to it is NUT-PI and he may well be the worst. It seems as though the Z-Lotz, just like the Cupiditas choose the worst among them as leader.”

Eagle Eyes mused, “It’s hard to imagine how they can be very effective at anything.”

“And yet, you described a very large — many large buildings — and they have the killing sticks. So… and those things with the marks. And, they trained horses.”

Eagle Eyes thought about that for awhile. As they put the finishing touches on the burial cairn, she mused, “We learned how to train horses too. And I think the training was at the ROI. Why didn’t these visitors come on horses? Why would they have horses and yet not travel a fair distance on foot instead?”

They finished respecting the dead man. Even if they seemed to be enemies and even if these four lied about several things during the gift exchange, neither Eagle Eyes nor Shadow Walker felt it right to dishonor the dead. They thanked the animals and plants they used for food, or must needs kill. Could they do less for a human cousin? After, they walked on in silence for a time along a broad path through the tall grass.

Eagle Eyes pointed to some woods off to their right. Shadow Walker stared off in that direction but he couldn’t see what she was pointing to until they had gone many more paces. Along the topmost branches of a stand of tulip trees, there grew a vine with many trumpet-shaped flowers glowing with pink and gold.

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Shadow Walker smiled, “You really earn your name. Those are beautiful.”

“Those flowers are really high up, Shadow Walker.”

Shadow Walker nodded. “Yes. So they are.”

Eagle Eyes grew more excited as they walked. “It occurs to my mind that they did not get that high on their own.”

Shadow Walker said, “What do you mean?”

“Those colorful flowers grow on vines. They vines do not have the strength to grow more than a few inches. Yet we see them so high in the air. They are using the tulip tree. That’s how they get so high.”

Shadow Walker nodded. “I never thought about it before, but I think you’re right.”

On they walked. Shadow Walker stopped suddenly. “Are you saying — are you saying that’s what you think is going on with the Z-Lotz? They are using some — some other — the fruits of some other peoples — in order to have all these things. Maybe they didn’t really develop these killing sticks but stole them from someone else. That would explain how they could — “

Eagle Eyes stopped and stared at Shadow Walker, “No, that’s not what I was saying, but it does make sense. I think you may be right. As Many Paths would say, ‘it’s one possibility.’”

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Shadow Walker laughed, “That’s exactly what she’d say. And if that tall tulip tree were to be hit by lightning or die of disease…”

Eagle Eyes nodded, “The vine would fall too. It’s only showing its flowers so high right now because of using the height of the tree. Shh!!” Eagle Eyes dropped down and Shadow Walker did the same. He came up close behind her and whispered in her ear.

“What do you see, Eagle Eyes?” The warm breath felt nice on her neck. Eagle Eyes turned back and whispered into the ears of Shadow Walker.

“Not what I see. What I hear!. Don’t you hear it?”

Shadow Walker put his hands up behind his ears and turned his head until he heard humans talking … or singing … or … what were they saying? He nodded to Eagle Eyes.

They crawled on their bellies very slowly toward the sound, being careful to move only when the wind moved the tall grass. As they drew closer, it became clear that what they were listening to was neither song nor reasoned dialogue. Two people were … talking at the same time but not reacting to each other. They came to the edge of a clearing. Within it, two men — the ones who had recently visited the Center Place of the Veritas — were thrashing about uselessly on the ground.

Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes looked at each other. They wanted to help, but where was the fourth of their late visitors? They drew very close and hastily made a plan. He would try to help the men and Eagle Eyes would stay hidden in case the fourth Z-Lotz emissary returned in a bad mood.

Shadow Walker reached the nearest man who was barely moving. He also seemed covered in red dots. He tried to communicate using sign language, but the man’s eyes were rolling around in his head and he seemed completely unaware of Shadow Walker’s presence. He said aloud “He is burning with fever.” He said it loudly but seemingly to himself. The other man was in a similar state. He went back into the grass and crawled back to Eagle Eyes.

Still concerned that there was an unaccounted-for Z-Lotz somewhere, he whispered to Eagle Eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them. They are very hot. And they seem not to have their minds with them. I don’t know of a medicine for them. Should we take them to a creek to cool them off? And they are both covered with those red spots.”

“I have been searching my memories but I haven’t heard of anything like this either. There’s no sign of the last Z-Lotz. Let’s see whether we can find his trail.”

Eagle Eyes stood cautiously and scanned the immediate surroundings. “Let’s at least move them out of the sun and under the shade of that oak.” The two sick men made no real protest as they were dragged to sit up against the shady side of the tree. Eagle Eyes pointed to a thick branch. “Give me a boost. I’ll climb the tree while you check the periphery of the clearing.”

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Shadow Walker stood with his back against the tree and knelt down while Eagle Eyes slid her pack and outer layer of clothing off. She put her left foot in his interlocked hands. She put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the corded muscles beneath the odd Z-Lotz tunic. Working as a team, she shifted her weight upwards so that she now towered over him. She reached her hands up farther onto the tree trunk and stepped up onto his shoulders. From there, she could touch the lowest branch, but not reach around it. Shadow Walker looked up and noticed many things, among them that he would have to boost her still farther. He put both hands next to the right side of his neck and instructed her to step on. She put her foot on his two hands and he pushed her up. At last, she hooked her arms over the tree branch and pulled herself up. He nodded, and noticed that he was breathing heavily. He watched Eagle Eyes continue climbing the tree.

Shadow Walker sighed and stepped to the edge of the clearing and soon found evidence that all three Z-Lotz had entered the clearing; two of them had been staggering. At last, he found the trail of the remaining Z-Lotz. He stared up at the distant figure of Eagle Eyes. She had climbed up near the crown of the tree and was shading her eyes. He tried to catch her eye, but her attention was elsewhere. They had known each other all their lives and he genuinely liked her as a friend. He had never been so struck by her beauty as he was now. His face reddened slightly and he looked down at the Ring of Empathy and wondered how things were going with Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives and Tu-Swift.

He followed the trail of the missing Z-Lotz until he came upon a creek. He could see that the one they tracked had stopped here for a drink but then continued onward back toward the camp — or — what had Cat Eyes called it? A city. Toward the city of the Z-Lotz. Perhaps as Eagle Eyes had suggested, it wasn’t really their city but one that they had found or won over with fighting. Perhaps they would learn more when they arrived at that city.

Shadow Walker went back to the clearing intending to offer to help Eagle Eyes down, but when he arrived, she was already on the ground. He gestured toward the nearby creek. “He went to the creek and got a drink, but didn’t bring any back for his sick companions. I did though. I didn’t bring any for you, but I think we will need to pass by the creek to follow the trail. And you?”

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Eagle Eyes said, “I saw an indentation path in the grass beyond the creek. I don’t think we are far behind him. They must have been slowed down by the illness. I saw something very strange though. In that direction, there is a broad area with no bushes, grass, or trees. It is like a desert. But… not sandy really. I am not sure, but it looks shiny and dead and … disordered … and … evil. I am glad we don’t have to go in that direction.”

As Shadow Walker listened, he managed to get one of the sick men to sip a little water. He went to give water to the other and discovered that he was dead though his body was still hot.

“This one is dead, Eagle Eyes. What shall we do with the other one? We can hardly take him with us. He can’t really care for himself. But I don’t want to stay here and try to heal him because — for one thing, I have no idea how to do that. Or, even what is wrong with him. There is something else. It’s odd but I feel … dirty. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“No, I don’t think it’s odd. I feel as though … somehow I want to get away from them both. Maybe we should both wash while we are down at the creek. I don’t think we can help this man. We could stay and comfort him and that may be help in a way.”

Shadow Walker nodded. “I’m not sure he really knows that we’re even here. I cannot get him to focus on my sign language and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t understand my speech. Yet, can we really just leave him here to die on his own?”

Eagle Eyes walked over to the man. She squatted before him and tapped her chest. “Eagle Eyes. I am Eagle Eyes. We are Veritas. You visited.” He said nothing, his eyes were still glazed over. For a moment, he reached his hand toward her and moved his mouth, but no sound emerged. He tilted his head slightly, then he slid sideways as thought to sleep upon the ground. She leaned forward a bit more and put his hand on his neck. She glanced up at Shadow Walker and shook her head.

Eagle Eyes stood and gathered her outer clothes and pack together. “Can we drag these two down by the creek and cover them with nearby stones? Then, I have a feeling, though I cannot explain why, that we should bathe. I’m not sure I want to wear his clothes either. I think you should go back to your own clothes as well.”

“Why not disguise ourselves?”

Eagle Eyes frowned. “I’m not sure. But what came to mind. You know, if your garden starts to have those little white bugs that eat the leaves, it spreads to all of the plants if you don’t wash them off. And, it is the same with the black mold. And that disease that curls the leaves. And, when ALT-R — he — corrupted — POND MUD and then the two of them together seemed to corrupt KAVA-NUT. I don’t want to have those red spots all over me. It feels wrong to wear their clothes. It makes my skin feel itchy.”

Shadow Walker considered. He nodded. “I agree. I already feel — I don’t feel good in these clothes. Let us go bury them in their burial cairns, bathe, and then be on our way. We’ll just have to stay hidden when we get to the village.”

Eagle Eyes nodded, and began walking toward the nearest Z-Lotz. Shadow Walker watched her and found himself looking forward to the prospect of shedding these Z-Lotz clothes and then bathing thoroughly in the creek. Watching Eagle Eyes would not be unpleasant either.

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—————————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Donnie Plays Soldier Man

05 Sunday Apr 2020

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

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

crime, criminal, ethics, fiction, liar, sociopath, soldiers, story

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“Take me! Take me! I wanna play soldier man too!”

Junior sighed. “No, Donnie. It’s big boys and they — nobody likes it when I bring along my kid brother. It’s big boy play. Understand?”

Donnie screamed, “I am a big boy! I’m bigger than you!” In an attempt to illustrate the point, Donnie jumped as high as he could and managed to touch the shoulder of his older brother.

“Donnie, we’ll play another time. I’m just going to go play with the big boys for a while. We can play something when I get home.”

Donnie screamed even louder, “I am a big boy! I’m bigger than you.” In an attempt to prove his point, he leapt onto the bed and bounced up and tapped his teeny fingers on the top of his brother’s head.

“Look, Donnie, the answer’s no. Later.” Fred Junior began lacing his Keds.

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“MOMMY! MOMMY!” Donnie screamed.

Mom, who was downstairs doing dishes, sighed, dried her hands and yelled up the stairs, “What’s all the commotion about?”

“Fred says I cannot go out and play! He won’t let me! It’s a free country, Mommy!”

Mom shook her head and trundled up the stairs. “OK, look, I’ve got work to do. Junior, Donnie’s allowed to play outside too. Why don’t you just watch him for a little while so I can get my work done, okay?”

Junior closed his eyes and hung his head, “Ma, he just — he always causes trouble when he plays with my friends. He’s just — a pain.”

“He’s also your little brother. Now take him with you. And make sure he doesn’t get hurt.” She could see that Junior was about to protest, “No, no. I don’t want another word. Come back in time for dinner.” She turned and left the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, Donnie yelled after her, “Thanks Mommy!” Then, he turned to his bigger brother, stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. He snatched his sneakers out of his closet and began tying them.

Junior sighed and shook his head. Maybe it would be safer to walk along the creek. The two of them could look for dragonflies. Junior liked dragonflies. But then, the memory of their last walk flooded his mind — Donnie had taken great delight in catching dragonflies in his butterfly net and then pulling the wings off. What the hell was wrong with that kid, he wondered.

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Fine, he thought, I’ll let him play soldiers. Maybe I can convince him to stay put and follow orders.

When they reached the vacant lot where the boys often played baseball, there was already a good-sized crowd. With — Fred counted quickly — 15 boys, they could’ve had a decent baseball game, but they hadn’t brought equipment for that. Each boy had a “sword” instead — a kind of pointed stick — not so thick as a club, but thicker than a whip. If you got hit by someone’s sword, it stung and sometimes left a bruise. Parents had occasionally seen this kind of battle and had warned the boys that “someone will get their eye poked out.”

When the parents uttered that dire warning, the boys always stopped — until the parents were out of sight — and then resumed their games. They chose up teams after deciding that today, they would be Robin Hood’s band versus The Sheriff of Nottingham’s men. Donnie, being the smallest, was naturally the last to be chosen. Donnie was on Junior’s team — one of the Sheriff’s men.

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Mainly the boys enjoyed clacking their wooden “swords” against that of their opponent, making a nice “THWACK!” sound when two swords clashed. They didn’t really try to “hurt” each other but they occasionally stabbed someone (carefully) who would either fall down while groaning in agony or slash someone across the back or shoulder. Of course, the swords sometimes landed a little harder than intended.

One of “Robin Hood’s Merry Men,” Joe, tended to be a bit rough. Almost none of the older boys liked Fred’s little brother. They considered him too much of a cry-baby. But, they all cut each other a break when it came to following parents’ orders. So, they tolerated Donnie once Junior had explained that his mom had ordered him to let Donnie play too. Joe kept faking to one side and then side-stepping Donnie’s thrust in order to whack Donnie on his butt.

“STOP IT!” yelled Donnie. “Let me hit you! It isn’t fair! Make him stop, Fred!” Donnie gritted his teeth and promised himself that Joe would pay for this humiliation.

Fred put a little of his attention on blocking the blows that were aimed at Donnie as well as defending himself. This was pretty effective. Joe only managed to get one more good hit on Donnie before a “truce” was called.

The boys could see a summer storm coming. One half of the sky was blue and the other side was a foreboding blackish gray. The boys lay down on the nearby baseball diamond to watch the storm. The game now was to see which boy was brave enough to keep laying there even after the rain started. Who would be first to jump up and run home? Who would be last? The boys began to taunt each other and scream that the storm was about to hit. Everyone was fascinated by the wall of air that was moving toward them.

No-one noticed that Donnie still held his “sword” in his teeny hands and that he had snuck up behind Joe. Just then, the storm front hit one side of the baseball field and began screaming across it. The boys could hardly stay still. Suddenly, far too close for comfort, a huge lightning streak hit the metal backstop. Everyone yelled, including Joe who felt an excruciating pain in his eye.

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Donnie dropped his stick and began running home. He ran just as fast as his legs could carry him and ran up the front steps and flung open the door. He looked around wildly. Mommy was in the living room listening to the radio and ironing. He ran into the room screaming, “Mommy! Mommy! Freddie put somebody’s eye out! It was terrible! I told them not to play swords!”

Mom turned and stared at Donnie. “What? What are you talking about?”

Donnie pretended to sob uncontrollably, blurting out words senselessly. “I told them. I thought we were going to play baseball, but the boys were all poking sticks at each other. There were about fifty-jillion kids there. I’m not even sure Junior did it on purpose. Maybe it was accident. Oh, it was bloody! Will Joe see? Will he be blind? Don’t hurt Freddy, Mommy. He didn’t mean to do it. I’m sure he didn’t. I’m pretty sure. He was mad at Joe. But I don’t think he’d poke his eye out on purpose, do you?”

“Slow down, Donnie. Who did what? Where’s your brother? He was supposed to watch you!”

“I ran home to tell you. I think he must have run away from home. He must feel bad about poking out Joe’s eye, don’t you think, Mommy?” Donnie rocked his head in his teeny hands and snuck looks at his mom to make sure that she was swallowing this, hook, line, and sinker. She was! He mentally patted himself on his own back. God, I’m good! he thought to himself.

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“Mommy, Mommy, do you think Joe will be okay? Maybe his eye is just scratched, right Mommy?”

Mom was sure Donnie was exaggerating but she could “see” that he was genuinely upset.

Joe wasn’t the only half-blind person in the neighborhood. “I’m sure Joe will be fine. Now, Donnie, I know you’re upset but sit down and tell me what happened. Slowly. Step by step.”

Donnie almost began skipping happily to the nearby ottoman but caught himself in time. He made himself shudder and shuffle and he continued to hide his face so Mom wouldn’t see the huge grin.

“I — I — I don’t know. It all happened so fast. They wanted to play soldier. With big sticks. Junior wanted me to play but I remembered that the grown-ups had said people could get their eyes poked out. So — I didn’t want to play. Fred told me I was chicken. So, I almost joined them, then it began to rain. Hard. I think that made the sticks slippery. And, then, Joe was bleeding and Fred said, ‘Serves you right!’ And I got scared and ran home and I wanted — maybe you should call and ambulance.”

Mom shook her head. “Boys!” she muttered under her breath. Crap. How could she keep this from Fred Senior who would likely beat his son half to death. The phone rang. I can’t answer that. I have to think. She didn’t know that a lot of research had gone into designing the ringing drone of a phone so annoying that people generally felt compelled to answer it.

She strode over, patting Donnie on the shoulder as she did so.

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“Hello?” she said tentatively.

Donnie could hear a woman screaming on the other end. He smiled so broadly, he had to bury his face in his hands so Mommy wouldn’t see.

And she didn’t see. Of course, she didn’t. Joe, it turned out, was only partially blinded in one eye. He never was able to play baseball very well after that.

For many years, on a boring rainy afternoon, Donnie would entertain himself by watching two raindrops race down the window pane. He would call one of them, “Fred gets beaten up by Daddy” and the other one “Joe can’t play baseball” and he would try to decide which one he liked better. It was really a tough choice.

But his favorite raindrop was probably the one he called, “No-one believes Junior when he tells the truth, but Mommy and Daddy believe me no matter what.”

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Author Page on Amazon.

Citizen Soldiers: Part one.

Citizen Soldiers: Part two.

Citizen Soldiers: Part three.

A Difficult Journey

11 Wednesday Mar 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all considered this for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is that?” asked Easy Tears.

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

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

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

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

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

The Pie of Life

24 Monday Feb 2020

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

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Business, capitalism, Democracy, ethics, fairness, life, marketing, socialism

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There isn’t just the one pie, of course. A decent bakery will have quite a variety. Pecan pie, warm, with some vanilla ice cream — the warmth and richness of the pie while the creaminess of the melting ice cream! Key Lime pie — sweet, sour, and a hint of exotic bitterness. Chocolate cream pie — is it really more of a candy or a pie? On occasion, I’ve made pies from scratch that are filled with freshly picked blackberries or raspberries. If you’ve never had one fresh out of the oven — barely cool enough to eat — you should really treat yourself. The same goes for apple and cherry pie!

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Most people in their daily lives are generous. They find it’s more fun to share a wonderful pie than secretly steal every piece for themselves. Most people you know and most people I know realize that in order to get anything significant done, they have to work with other people. And, while I, like many people, love to play competitive games and sports, all of life is not a competitive sport. It isn’t about taking the most pie you can regardless of consequences.

In a zero-sum game, we imagine that there is only one pie. We have to split it and if you get more, I get less.

But is everything in life like that? Is anything in life really like that? Even competitive sports like tennis where one person or team wins and the other loses is not truly a zero sum game. There is the benefit of fitness and improving your game and the sheer joy of playing. And most of life is like that — including pies. When we think about how to split the pie, we may want to consider other things such as:

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How did the pie get there? What is the proper share for the people who grew the wheat? The miller who ground the flour? The truck driver who drove the flour truck to the store? How about the grocery clerk? The bagger? The person who cooked the pie? How about the person who tinkered around until she or he developed an excellent recipe? How about the people who had lived for thousands of years with the cinnamon trees and then had their villages and way of life destroyed so that the cinnamon trees could all be cut down? How about the people who cut the sugar cane? How about the policeman who protects the pie and the fireman who comes to save the bakery if it catches fire? How much should they all get?

Trying to “determine the fair share” by measuring everything and “calculating” it by formula would be endlessly tedious. The inefficiency and waste and lack of innovation in the former Soviet Union demonstrated the futility of detailed central planning. In many places, society has developed a system of exchange based on money. The idea is to let the market “decide.”

That system only works when people have approximately equal power and when they have equal justice under the law. When capitalism is combined with unequal justice, it quickly devolves into tyranny. Owners of corporations can get almost all of the pie for themselves and leave only enough crumbs for the workers to barely stay alive and eke out a living. To the extent that workers can be replaced by robots, it isn’t even necessary to give workers crumbs.

Suppose your young child is deathly ill with pneumonia and needs penicillin. Suppose I am the only pharmacy in town and the roads are closed so that the only way for you to get the necessary penicillin is through me. As the pharmacist, I may have paid all of one thin dime for the medicine you need. But, assuming you love your child as much as most parents do, I can charge virtually any price. Any price. Think of that. I can not only gain your car, your house, and every dime you own. I can also make you an indebted servant.

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Imagine a world in which there are many employers and many workers. Each worker has many possible jobs they could do and every company has a choice among many workers. In such a system, there is some balance of power. An employer who pays low wages or who provides bad working conditions will find themselves without enough workers to get the work done and go out of business. Similarly, a worker who goofs off or insists on very high wages will not be hired. But do we have a balance like that? In a land of many small companies and many small family farms, there is some balance. But today? In many cases, there are a small number of very large corporations who together hold almost all the power.

If, in addition to the imbalance of workers versus owners, the rich owners have now bought much of the government. Legislation to protect workers and consumers is not even being brought to a vote in the Senate. The Trumputin administration is rolling back food safety regulations, air pollution regulations, water pollution regulations, and healthcare. The justice department and the US intelligence agencies — who used to be filled with nonpartisan experts — are being destroyed from within. Ultimately, it means that every penny of wealth created by workers can be stolen by the richest and most powerful people in the country. Even now, some of the richest corporations and people pay zero taxes.

woman in black dress holding balance scale

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Many of the corporations don’t really have competitors. They spend money on lobbying and advertising. They don’t want to spend money on innovation and invention because that changes the nature of the game and so — they could potentially lose their monopoly power. In other words, none of these people are spending much resource on inventing new types of pies. They are protecting the rules that give most of the pie to them. Similarly, companies buy start-ups of potentially disruptive innovations, not in order to integrate inventions into their product lines but to prevent those start-ups from becoming competitors.

Since most of us in America will soon be paying our tax bill, it might be time to consider this:

If you work two full time jobs in America, you can barely make ends meet and you will pay taxes on your earned income — not a lot — but more than some billionaires. If you are a highly talented writer, actor, consultant, scientist, and you work 80 hours a week, you might earn $200,000 a year and you will pay a lot of taxes on that money. On the other hand, let’s suppose that you inherited $10,000,000 and you invest $4,000,000 in the stock market. You will easily make $200,000 a year on that money while doing nothing for the whole year. You can spend your time watching TV, playing golf, or dressing up lizards. But your tax rate on the $200,000 you got for nothing except being born rich will be less than the talented person who works full time.

How we divide up the pie makes a big difference. And we are becoming less and less fair about that and — perhaps even worse — we are no longer putting as much resource into growing the pie and inventing new types of pies. Meritocracy is being replaced with cronyism and a “might makes right” mentality.

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While competition is a part of life, it is not the whole of life. Life cooperates with other life all the time and at every level. In our bodies, if we are healthy, the cells of every organ work together to promote life for the whole. In cancer, a few cells decide to suck all the resources into themselves. And — that’s what happening here in America.

How’s it going where you are?

Do you invent new kinds of pies? Do you help improve the recipes? Do you get a fair share? Or, do you find yourself fighting all day just to get a very little bit of a very large pie?

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Jaccim Fails to Explain

30 Thursday Jan 2020

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

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

empathy, ethics, leadership, learning, legend, myth, relationships, story, tale

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Many Paths awoke early. The fragments of a dark dream hung about her. Tu-Swift! “Tu-Swift!” she called loudly.

Her urgency startled Tu-Swift who jumped up suddenly saying, “What? What? What’s wrong?”

Many Paths blinked and saw Tu-Swift standing and staring at her. “Sorry. I must have had a bad dream that you were gone again.”

Tu-Swift shook his head. “No, I’m still here. You scared me.”

Many Paths took in a deep calming breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. I … I am glad you’re back, brother. It takes my mind a time to really believe it.”

Tu-Swift nodded. “Yes. Sometimes I wake up and imagine I’m back in that wooden shack again in the village of the ROI. But I am here. I am safe. At least for now.”

“For now. Yes, for now. I worry about the Killing Sticks though.” Many Paths took another large breath and added, “If there were no Killing Sticks, I would be spending all my energy trying to understand your discovery — and trying to connect with our brothers and sisters near the Twin Peaks. It seems that Jaccim may be able to lead us to the Veritas. But what do you think of him? Is the to be trusted?”

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“Shadow Walker was also concerned. I don’t know. I remember ALT-R and POND MUD. ALT-R in particular spoke very smoothly and I would have believed him. Yet, he was corrupt. He even betrayed us to NUT-PI, the man with the Killing Stick. Perhaps I am not such a good judge of character.”

“ALT-R fooled many people of more summers that you, Tu-Swift. There’s no shame in that. Even She Who Saves Many Lives did not see the full evil of his heart. Nor I. But what of Jaccim? He is the only one among us who claims to know how to reach the tribe of the Veritas who live beyond the Twin Peaks.”

“I trust him. I should say that I trust him here among us. And I trust him to lead the search party as he is best able. I don’t know what he would do if the ROI came here though. Maybe he would join them. You should talk with him yourself, Many Paths. You’re good at seeing the heart in someone.”

“Thank you and I shall. I’m not so sure how good I am though. ALT-R and POND MUD — I failed to see that treachery. But you claim he was kind to you?”

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“I wouldn’t put it that way. I was essentially a slave. He was the least unkind. His two companions were sometimes cruel for no reason. To me, to Day-Nah and to the horses. Jaccim seemed cold but not actually cruel.” A frown crept across his face. “I am much happier to be back here with you and with my own people. The thing is…despite his injuries, it seems to me that Jaccim is actually happier here too. Don’t you find that odd? You might ask some of his companions. But that’s my impression.”

“That would be odd indeed. I think I shall take your suggestion, despite the inconvenience of having to use Cat Eyes as a translator. Speaking of whom…?” She looked at Tu-Swift.

Tu-Swift nodded. He had that slightly warm and slightly disturbing feeling that Many Paths looked at him in a way that made him say more than he meant to.

“I know what you’re getting at. I like her. You have to admit that she’s quite remarkable. But Sooz is still my special friend. I would love to go with Cat Eyes to find her village. It would be an adventure. But I understand. I might just slow things down. Anyway, use your gift of looking into someone’s soul on him. You talk with him. See what you think.”

Many Paths chuckled. “I cannot really look into someone’s soul. But I do try to see things from their perspective.” She took out a small vine on which she had strung her Seven Rings of Empathy and held them aloft and shook her hand playfully. “And, of course, with these Magic Rings, I can see through walls!”

Tu-Swift smiled. “Very funny. Shadow Walker told me about the joke you played on Trunk of Tree.”

“Yes. I suppose after what you two went through, you’re closer than ever. But don’t make fun of Trunk of Tree. He seems … for a time I was worried he might be on the path of ALT-R and POND MUD, but I think he’s going to be all right. It would not be helpful for him — please don’t tell anyone else. Honestly, I feel a little — I may have gone too far. He was really starting to annoy me. I was so worried about you and about Shadow Walker and he kept bugging me to just accept that you were both dead and that I should marry him.”

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Many Paths shook her head. “Perhaps after breakfast, you could find Cat Eyes and Jaccim and the four of us could walk along the Rocky Ridge up to the Old Place and have a little lunch there while I question him. I still do not really understand him. He seems like a nice enough person. Yet, he lived among the ROI, and not only dealt with stolen children but he was apparently one of those who did the actual stealing. Such a heart, I cannot understand.”

Tu-Swift took his leave and eagerly gobbled down his breakfast before searching out Cat Eyes and Jaccim. The two of them sat together, slightly apart from the main throng of the Veritas, sipping tea. As Tu-Swift approached them, he noted they were talking in ROI. Tu-Swift frowned. He did not like the sound of ROI. It reminded him of his time there, time when he did not know whether he would ever see any of his friends again. He took a deep, cleansing breath and continued to approach them.

Cat Eyes spied him first. “Well met, Tu-Swift! Would you like some sassafras tea?”

“Sassafras? Really, Cat Eyes? I didn’t know you could make good tea from sassafras. Jaccim. How are you feeling these days?” Tu-Swift spoke slowly and gestured so that he hoped Jaccim understood his greeting.”

Cat Eyes judged from Jaccim’s puzzled look that he did not have any understanding. She quickly translated into ROI and Jaccim smiled at Tu-Swift. “Good. Good,” he said in highly accented Veritas.

Tu-Swift nodded to Jaccim and said, “Good.” Then, he turned to Cat Eyes. “Many Paths asked me to arrange a walk with you after breakfast if you are amenable. We could go up to the Old Place and chat. Is that all right? I will probably ride slowly on Clip-Clop so I don’t slow you down too much. It’s a nice view from there.”

time lapse photography of waterfalls during sunset

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Tu-Swift watched Jaccim closely judging whether he had understood any of his words.

Cat Eyes spoke to Jaccim in ROI. Only then, did any light appear in Jaccim’s eyes. Jaccim nodded and spoke back in ROI. Cat Eyes smiled and turned to Tu-Swift.

“We’re both fine with it, Tu-Swift. And, this tea,” she added as she handed a cup to Tu-Swift, “is not from the leaves of the Sassafras. It’s from the inner bark of the roots. Should we meet at the entrance to your cabin after you finish your tea?”

On the trip up to the Old Place, Many Paths sang some songs. Although Jaccim struggled to understand Veritas, he could repeat some of the songs so everyone joined in. Most of the time, they had to travel single file. Many Paths remarked on the beautiful vista that opened up as they emerged from the forest. Others followed suit. Even Jaccim pointed to an unusually striking lone cedar tree, twisted by winds and weather. He said, “Good” in his odd accent.

When they came to the Old Place, they sat in a circle and Many Paths passed around some pemmican for them to share.

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Many Paths looked at Jaccim as she spoke but also held his eye as Cat Eyes translated her words into ROI. “How do you think of the ROI and the Veritas now that you have lived both places?” The question proved too abstract and vague for Jaccim, though because of the necessity to translate, it took awhile to realize this. Many Paths tried a different and more direct tact.

“Jaccim, do you prefer living with the ROI or the Veritas?” Many Paths could see that Jaccim remained puzzled by this as well, even after Cat Eyes not only translated the question but then tried to explain it in various ways. At last, she said to Many Paths, “He does not understand this question. So far as I can tell, he was — let me tell you how it was for me. I wanted to escape. I wanted to go home. Always. But I knew that I had to find some happiness where I was to stay alive long enough to have any chance of that happening. I could not spend my whole life wishing for something that might or might not happen and thereby not experience my actual life as it was. To be clear, this is not what he said. This is how I felt. But I think it’s akin. He was born into the ROI and now he is here. That’s that. He was never really given a “choice.” He cannot return to the ROI. He says he has no desire to go to live in a large cage which I guess is how he thinks of the city of the Z-Lotz.”

Many Paths considered. She had hoped to come to the topic slowly and subtly but was making no progress. She decided to chance a more direct approach.

“Jaccim, how could you steal children? I mean, how could you steal someone else’s child from them?” Many Paths had asked her question with a good deal of sign language and thought that perhaps Jaccim understood her question but she continued to look at his face as Cat Eyes translated. Once again, Cat Eyes and Jaccim spoke back and forth many times before Cat Eyes answered back to Many Paths.

“I’m sorry,” Many Paths, “but I don’t think he understands the question. He says that he was told to do that by the people he had to obey. His assigned job was to steal as many as possible quickly; not to permanently disable the children; and not to be captured. It wasn’t his job, so he says, to understand why they stole children.”

Many Paths frowned. Tu-Swift said, “I think that’s probably right. They viewed us, so far as I could tell, as another kind of horse. We are just tools, to them.”

Drawing by Pierce Morgan

Many Paths shook her head in sadness. She wondered whether a people could be so … disconnected from the Great Tree of Life — so out of touch with their own heart — that they would not even notice how … hateful it was to steal someone’s child. Many Paths felt tempted to turn her hate onto Jaccim, but she intentionally slowed her breathing and tried to think what it might be like for her if she had been brought up among the ROI — doing things without question — whatever you were told — not thinking for yourself about right and wrong. Sometimes, that kind of discipline was required. But always? Even in hunting the Large Ones or in war, sometimes warriors see that plans must be changed in the moment.

Many Paths sat silently, looking at Jaccim. He has spent his entire life not thinking about such questions. He just does what he is told to do by those he sees as his superiors. He has never thought about what it’s like from the child’s viewpoint or the parent whose child was stolen. Chiding him would accomplish nothing. He would have to be shown over a long period of time. For now, she decided, he clearly views me, and even Tu-Swift, as “superiors” so he can be trusted to fulfill his role.

“Jaccim, do you notice how the horses gallop?”

At last, a question he understood, thought Many Paths, because the answer came back quickly. Jaccim spoke with enthusiasm.

“Oh, they are so fast! And so … musical … in how they run.”

“Yes,” replied Many Paths, as she began Jaccim’s first lesson in empathy; one taught to the Veritas in toddlerhood.

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———————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Shadow Walker’s Walk

19 Sunday Jan 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

emathy, ethics, jealousy, leadership, legend, myth, story, tale, teamwork

A few days after Cat Eyes and the others told their tales, Shadow Walker’s ankle felt good enough to allow him to accompany Trunk of Tree as he checked on the Northern guard postings. He had taken to asking someone from the tribe each time he made a check. Although all the Veritas possessed detailed mental maps of the entire area, Trunk of Tree needed to see the entire area through new eyes that came from the knowledge that there are such things as Killing Sticks.

As they ascended the area known as White Pine Hill where the path could easily accommodate two abreast, Trunk of Tree, began to speak, “I’m glad you made it back okay. And, bringing back Tu-Swift as well. That’s something! Honestly, when you didn’t come back right away, I thought you would never find him. I mean, they were on horses. It’s just amazing that you ever found them.”

“As I said in my recounting, they were terrible at hiding their trail. It struck all of us as odd. Even the Nomads of the South. I thought they were just careless. Perhaps riding horses made them always impatient. I didn’t know about Killing Sticks at the time, but now, I am thinking that perhaps they had some so they did not feel threatened.”

“Perhaps, but our guards that were killed were surprised. I don’t think … wait. The only witness who was there was knocked out and doesn’t not recall much.”

“In any case, Trunk of Tree, they did not use them when they attacked us with the fire arrows. So, I am not convinced the ROI had any. Perhaps only the Z-Lotz have them. Perhaps, indeed, only Nut-Pi has one. He may feel that it gives him power and he doesn’t want others, even his own warriors, to have such a weapon.”

On they trod for a time in silence before Trunk of Tree resumed, “With so many of them and such fierce weapons, you can see why I thought you dead.”

“I suppose,” said Shadow Walker, after a pause. “I never really gave it much thought. Finding Tu-Swift and staying alive dominated my mind.”

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Trunk of Tree continued, “So, yes. Of course. Staying alive. But we did not know you were alive. I thought not and so, of course, I thought of the tribe and supporting Many Paths so…I just thought you should know. So now you do.”

Shadow Walker grinned, “So now I know what, exactly?”

Trunk of Tree seemed surprised. “What? Oh, you know. I thought it might be that the tribe would need to think about re-arrangements and things. And, now, oh — Congratulations! by the way. But back then, you were not officially betrothed. That’s what I mean.”

Shadow Walker laughed. “Trunk of Tree! Oh, Trunk of Tree! Where are you?! Where is the brave warrior from the Battle of the Three Paths? I hope when are in the next battle, you keep your words clear and sharp and pointing straight to the conclusion. That way, we can react on the same day as the battle.”

Trunk of Tree reddened visibly. “What do you mean?”

Shadow Walker stopped and turned toward Trunk of Tree in such a way as to stop him in his path. When he had caught his eye, Shadow Walker said, “Many Paths told me about your various attempts to woo her.”

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“I wouldn’t put it that way. I was thinking about the tribe.”

“OK, Trunk of Tree but now Many Paths and I are betrothed. And, if you want to think of the tribe, we need to keep our unity now more than ever. Don’t ask her again. Not while I’m alive.”

“Absolutely! I’m … I mean Many Paths is too … Honestly, who is stronger? Me or Many Paths?”

An image flashed into Shadow Walker’s mind. He saw Many Paths skipping stones along the river not far from the Center Place.

Shadow Walker said, “When it comes to who can heft a larger rock, you are stronger. In fact, you’re probably the strongest of the tribe. Though perhaps some day we should test that. I think I might be able to best you. When it comes to balancing many factors in coming to a good decision, she’s the strongest of all the tribe.”

Trunk of Tree nodded and they resumed walking. After a few paces, he asked, “Well, what about throwing stones?”

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“Throwing stones? Well, not all stones are the same, but I would guess you can throw similar stones farther than Many Paths.”

Trunk of Tree nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes! I should be able to throw stones farther. Yet, she bested me just a few days ago.”

Shadow Walker chuckled. “Tell me what happened. Exactly.”

Trunk of Tree stopped again and closed his eyes. “She challenged me to see who could skip a stone farther. I picked one up and threw it. Hard. And with some skill. Then, she did the same thing and skipped it twice as far! I swear she did.”

Shadow Walker laughed gently. “Oh, she’s done the same to me. But let’s go back to your description. Tell me again. You picked up a rock. Tell me about the rock.”

Trunk of Tree frowned. “The rock? A flat one.”

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Shadow Walker prompted, “What else?”

Trunk of Tree shook his head. “What else? There is nothing else. I looked down, saw a flat rock and skipped it.”

Shadow Walker nodded. “Right and what did Many Paths do?”

“She did the same. She stooped down, picked up a rock. Then, she … Hold on. She picked up another one. And another. What was that about? She picked up several and then…she lifted them and swung them and examined them. I remember thinking that she should hurry up and throw. But she picked one and then … well, actually, she still didn’t throw. She … felt the ground with her feet. What was that about? Anyway, she found a spot she liked and then…well, she still didn’t throw it. She twisted her body and her arm a few times. That’s like… that’s what we do with our legs before a race. I see. That’s what she meant by saying that preparation was important.”

“Right, Trunk of Tree. And that’s not all. She loves skipping stones. She’s done it many times. And though she never said so, I imagine she tried many variations of stone to find out the very best size for her, the best way to throw it, and even where to skip in the stream.”

Trunk of Tree slowed his pace again and asked, “What do you mean where? Surely, you can’t tell where a rock will skip!”

Shadow Walker replied, “I can to some extent. But I’m sure Many Paths can do it even better. If you hit the rapids, it’s more likely you get a bad skip.”

Trunk of Tree shook his head. “How do you … how can anyone get along with her? She’s so … she thinks so much!”

“We get along just fine. To me, it’s a joy that she’s always thinking of something I never would have thought of. But what about you? Eagle Eyes is the same way! She comes up with amazing ideas!”

“She does. But lately…since she returned. Things are different. I’m not sure she likes me any more.”

Shadow Walker gestured to a spot in the cliffs that rose steeply on either side of the path at this point. “That would be a great lookout point. And, these cliffs would be a good spot for a potential ambush. But why not ask Eagle Eyes to help you find good battle spots for us?”

Trunk of Tree sighed. “Many Paths made a similar suggestion. But what if she doesn’t like me?”

“You’re guessing what is in her mind and how she feels! Ask her! Or, just ask her to come with you and see how she acts. But do something! Don’t just imagine how she feels.”

Trunk of Tree & Shadow Walker came to a broad field. After a time, he spoke again, “Do you believe what Cat Eyes told in her tale?”

“Yes. I was very suspicious when I first met the ROI. But Tu-Swift pointed out something odd about them. It seemed they only would fight when they were ordered to. Anyway, I have many reasons, but I believe her story about the other part of the Veritas.”

Trunk of Tree said, “Yes. I believe that part. I think we should try to connect. Maybe they would help us fight off the Z-Lotz and their Killing Sticks. But I still feel that Cat Eyes knows something she is not sharing.”

“I agree, but I think I know what it is. She was taken at a very young age. They trained her for sex. That’s what I think. She’s never said that, but whenever anyone asks her about the time shortly after she was captured, a darkness comes over her, she stiffens, and her jaw becomes rigid and she says she doesn’t remember anything or remember much or she changes the subject.”

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Trunk of Tree made a face of disgust. “But she was only a child! Surely…That’s … why would anyone do that? That’s not natural!”

“No, it isn’t natural. It’s evil. But you see how it is with some people who will do anything for power. To them, being cruel to a child is even better because the child has no way whatever to fight back. And you can bend them to your will from an early age. Cat Eyes herself said as much though she doesn’t want to say anything about the horrible things that were done to her. I am afraid, Trunk of Tree, that these people who use Killing Sticks and Steal Children will show no honor whatever. We must train our people, even our children, how to kill without being caught — in case any such as Tu-Swift are taken at an early age ever again.”

Trunk of Tree nodded. He led Shadow Walker off the main path on to a small deer path that doubled back toward the cliff. They followed it as it zig-zagged its way up around the side of the cliff and up to the potential lookout that Shadow Walker had spied. It was a vigorous climb that often stabbed Shadow Walker’s ankle. The view from atop the cliff was worth it, however.

Somehow, it seemed to Shadow Walker, that high places like this allowed him to see everything in his life with perspective. He realized that he valued Trunk of Tree’s friendship and forgave him for seeking to replace him. Shadow Walker momentarily contemplated Many Paths with Trunk of Tree. Far from feeling jealous, he now felt a certainty that she would think circles around him. Shadow Walker smiled. She did the same to him, but he didn’t mind. She always showed him the paths of her thinking and he could follow them up to a high place where he could see the world more clearly.

He smiled more broadly as he felt deep in his heart that this was a great and beautiful land he looked upon. There were many wonderful people and he knew that though these Killing Sticks posed a great danger to the Veritas, his tribe would defend it to the death, he felt sure — each and every one of them.

One way or another, he thought, life and truth will survive and thrive. And so will we. So will we.

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————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration

Essays on America: The Temperature Gauge

09 Thursday Jan 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, driverless cars, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

AI, America, cancer, Democracy, driverless cars, ethics, government

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The sun is shining! Spring is here at last, and the trees are in bloom. You’re driving down the road and you see …

That your “Engine over-heating” light goes on!

You think: My engine’s over-heating!

Or, you think, it isn’t over-heating at all; I just have a bad sensor.

Over the next few months, the red light goes on several other times, and each time, you pull over and try to judge whether the engine is really over-heated. No easy task. But you get back in and turn the car on and lo and behold, the light’s no longer on. Aloud, you mutter: “I’ve got to get that damned sensor fixed. Maybe next week.”

In the olden days of driving cars, I had a continuous gauge of the temperature. It was more obvious if it was acting oddly because I had more information. I could track it day to day. If I went on a long trip I could see whether the behavior of the gauge “made sense.” I might go up a long mountain road on a hot sunny day, and I expect to see the temperature gauge climb. On the other hand, if I went back down that same mountain at night and the temperature gauge climbed, I would know to get it checked.

aerial view of road in the middle of trees

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Suppose instead of a gauge, you or I only get is one bit of information: “Temperature sensor says overheated,” it’s much harder judge the veracity of the source. But, if we cannot even trust the reliability of the sensor, then we don’t even get one bit of information. Before the light comes on, there are four possible states (not equally likely, by the way, but that’s not important for the following argument).

Engine OK, Sensor OK;

Engine OK, Sensor ~OK;

Engine ~OK, Sensor OK;

Engine ~OK, Sensor ~OK.

When the red light comes on, you have some information because the state of:

Engine OK, Sensor OK is eliminated.

But is it?

It certainly is — under a certain set of assumptions — but let’s try to tease apart what those assumptions are and see whether they necessarily hold in today’s world, or in tomorrow’s world.

Let’s imagine for a moment that your automobile is bewitched and inhabited by an evil demon with limited magical powers, mainly to do with the car itself. If you’ve seen the movie Christine you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t seen it, please buy the book instead. It’s so much better. But let’s get back to our own evil-spirited car. This car, let’s call him “URUMPUT” because it sounds a bit like a car engine and because — you know, just because. Let’s imagine the car has a lot of mileage and is painted a kind of sickly orange color. The tires are bald, and it’s a real gas guzzler. It’s actually more of a jalopy than a car. Your friends would have assumed you could have done much better, but it is apparently what you’re stuck with for now.

URUMPUT, unbeknownst to you, is actually out to kill you, but his powers are limited. He cannot simply lock the doors and reroute the exhaust till you pass out from the fumes. So, what it does is to over-ride the sensor so that you get out to take a look at your car so you open the hood and you look inside and BLAM! Down comes the hood on your head with enough force to snap your neck. When your neck is snapped, you don’t die instantaneously. You are aware that something is terribly wrong. Your brain sends signals for you to move; to get the damned hood off; but you can’t move. And, worse, you can’t breathe. Soon, but much too late, you realize something has gone terribly wrong.

You.

Are.

Dead!

That blasted URUMPUT got you. Why? Just because he could. He paid you no more mind than had you been an ant on the road. He gave you misinformation. That is information that you thought you had because you assumed you were dealing with a system that, although imperfect, had some degree of transparency. You certainly did not think you were dealing with an actively evil agent. But you were. And, now you’re dead. (But go ahead and read the rest as though you were still alive.)

Of course, in real life, there are no bewitched cars. We all know that.

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Do we?

Let’s consider how much electronics and “smarts” already exists in cars. The amount will skyrocket with driverless cars. For one thing, the human “occupants” will be able to have much more engaging entertainment. Perhaps more importantly, the “brain” of the car will be able to react to a much wider array of data more quickly than most human drivers could.

With all the extra sensors, communications, components, functions, protocols, etc. there will be greatly enhanced functionality.

There will also be all sorts of places where a “bad actor” might intentionally harm the vehicle or even harm the occupants. Your insurance company, for instance, might fake some of the data in the black box of your car to indicate that you drove a lot during nighttime hours. It doesn’t seem to match your recollection, but how would you double check? You grudgingly pay the increased premium.

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Behind on your loan shark payments? Oops? Your driverless car just steered itself off a cliff and all the occupants were killed.

Oh, but how, you ask, would loan sharks get hold of the software in your car?

Then, I have to ask you a question right back. Have you been watching the news the last couple of years? People who owe a great deal of money to the wrong people will do anything to avoid the promised punishments that follow non-payment.

Our government at this point is definitely not much like old time cars that allowed you to see what was going on and make judgments for yourself. This government just sends out signals that say, “Everything’s Fine!” and “Do as I say!” and “Those people NOT like you? They are the cause of all your troubles.”

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That is not transparency.

That is not even informational.

That is misinformation.

But it is not misinformation of the sort where a student says: “Akron is the capital of Ohio.” That’s wrong, but it’s not maliciously wrong.

When people lose a limb as a result of an accident, cancer, or war, they often experience something called the “Phantom Limb Experience.” They have distinct sensations, including pain, “in” the limb that is no longer there. The engine’s not working but the sensor is also bad.

That’s where we are.

The engine’s not working. The feedback to us about whether it’s working is also malicious misinformation.

We have the Phantom Limb Experience of having a government that is working for American interests.

We need to regrow the missing limb or get a really good prosthetic.

We need straight information from the government which is supposed to take input from all of us and then make decisions for all of us. It’s never been perfect, but this is the first time it is not even trying or pretending to be fair or even accurate. People in top level positions in our government think that their oath of office is a joke.

We live in a monster car — and not the fun kind — the Christine kind.

The engine’s not working. And the sensor light means nothing. If you look under the hood to find out what’s really going on, you’d better have a partner ready to grab the hood and prevent it from being slammed down on your head. Because URUMPUT would do it with as little regard for you as he would have to out and destroy any other whistleblower.

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The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

Author Page on Amazon

Story about Driverless Cars (from Turing’s Nightmares).

petersironwood

~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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