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Too Many Tu-Swifts?

10 Tuesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, creativity, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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coping, dissociative state, dreams, fables, fantasy, fiction, gratitude, hope, leadership, legends, myths, psychology, short story, stories, strategy, truth, Tu-Swift, Veritas, writing

{Translator’s Note}: Sometimes, when one finds oneself in an emergency room, they ask you to rate your pain on a ten point scale. It seems that the Veritas had quite a rich and varied vocabulary for pain — and for pleasure. Although it is clear that the Veritas could count (at least that; though the academic debates are raging now about how they could have made the astronomical predictions that they apparently made without advanced mathematics), they would have found the concept of “rating” pain or pleasure bizarre. Even in my own childhood, the idea of rating something as complex as a movie (let alone a human being!) on a numerical scale would have seemed preposterous. As for the Veritas, precisely because they have so many dimensions and nuances of pain, there are not very many instances of any particular token. So, what follows is, as always, my best effort attempt to describe the pain of Tu-Swift. 

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Tu-Swift literally forgot who he was; or, more precisely, Tu-Swift trifurcated. The Tu-Swift that he considered to be him found himself embedded in stickiness, as though he were a hapless bug caught in the web of an onrushing horror of hairy legs and giant fangs. Yet, the more he struggled, the more entrapped he became. He could sense but not really see the spider. He could not even control his eyes. An invisible force focused them on the scene ahead where two other versions of Tu-Swift struggled with each other. 

Tu-Swift (the observer) felt a surge of pride at the image on the right. He appeared taller, stronger, prouder looking than he had ever remembered feeling. But despite the outward beauty, something was wrong here. Instead of being connected to life in general and the Veritas in particular, he felt himself to be “it” – the only thing that mattered. From that odd perspective, he didn’t have to “know” how things worked and how to solve problems. He only had to tell a convincing story convincingly — so convincingly that people would mistake it for the truth. He felt strong when he looked at this shadowy reflection of himself; strong, and a little ashamed. He felt ashamed because he recognized that that had been pretty much how he saw the world when he was yet a toddler. Still, it was tempting. In a way, it would be so much simpler never having to know what is actually true; never having to take the needs of others into consideration.

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On the left, the Tu-Swift avatar looked small and somehow — broken. This version of himself made him feel weak and powerless. It (he) sat cross-legged on the grass and petulantly broke blades off. Tu-Swift spoke to the boy. “Get up! Get up!” 

The boy on the left spoke back. “I can’t. It’s too much effort. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Look!”

The boy pointed at something behind Tu-Swift. He struggled mightily to turn to see what it was, but he could not turn his head. But he could feel the searing heat of the spider. He could only stare at the two boys before him and suddenly, he saw the boys disappear into a web of memories. He did not have to be exactly like the boy on the right or exactly like the boy on the left. He could pick and choose the situations when he wanted to be one or the other, but he was in no way limited to those two boys. He could pick and choose from everyone he ever met. Why had he not seen this before? It was like choosing a mask or garb for a ritual dance. Only … it need not be superficial. Thinking like Many Paths — that was more than putting on a mask. I think better with her.

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He grabbed what he wanted from each of the two boys and immediately felt the searing heat of the monster that burned and blackened everything before it. Tu-Swift began rolling. His pain changed from an ember of deeply burning ruby red to a thunderstorm of flashing blue light and every bolt struck deep into the knee of Tu-Swift. Each bolt exploded outward in further flashes of blue so that, for a moment, his entire left leg erupted in blue pain. 

After a few such rolls, Tu-Swift felt the freezing cold of rushing water. It stung and made him catch his breath, but it felt wonderful and somehow safe. But cold. What’s wrong with my knee, he asked himself. “Where is everyone?” he said aloud. His thoughts now began to once again unravel as he muttered to himself.  

“Need … to take … inventory. Right knee. What is wrong with you, knee?” Tu-Swift, in his altered state, half expected he knew and answered himself back. “But something … something is very wrong. I fell. Need shelter.”

Near the river bank, on one side, lay hard rock cliffs. Tu-Swift managed to crawl into a cleft in such a cliff. His self once more disintegrated.  

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This time, instead of seeing two other versions of Tu-Swift, he saw everyone he had ever encountered, or at least, that is how it seemed. Just as he had always been able to hear the voice of Many Paths offering apt advice, he now realized that he could get advice from anyone in the tribe; or those of other tribes; even from the People Who Steal Children.

Tu-Swift imagined the voice of Shadow Walker calling out and showing him how to speak with drums or the sounds of birds. Those turned out to be important skills and he was filled with gratitude for Shadow Walker. And, he imagined he could hear the memory of Hudah Salah also calling out his name with her strange accent. It was exciting to think that people could speak so that only some might understand. Of course, he had been told that there were other tongues besides that spoken by the Veritas people. But it wasn’t until he had really heard such voices that he understood how important it could be to know other languages. Now, it was real and he was filled with gratitude for Hudah Salah for opening his eyes. 

Tu-Swift realized that his own eyes were extremely tired. And he mentally waved farewell to the multitude of people out there ready to lend their knowledge to whatever task was at hand. He closed the eyes of every Tu-Swift he could and fell into a deep, unknowing sleep. 

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The Drums of Hooves, Humans, & Hearts

28 Saturday Feb 2026

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

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empathy, fiction, horse, horses, innovation, leadership, myths, politics, psychology, rescue, story, strategy, tactics, teamwork, Travel, truth, Veritas, writing

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The search party followed the obvious signs of the horses. Eagle Eyes and Fleet of Foot took the lead. Just as they approached a considerable foothill covered mainly in weeds and scrub oak, Fleet of Foot noticed that Eagle Eyes glanced ahead and shook her head. Fleet of Foot queried her. “What does your head shaking signify, Eagle Eyes?” 

Eagle Eyes laughed slightly. “I cannot fathom how they can be so bad at hiding their trail. How can they be smart enough to train horses and yet too stupid to cover their own trail?”

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Fleet of Foot paused in his long, loping strides. “Indeed. Unless it is a trap. It is very much as though they actually want us to be able to follow their trail.” He held up his hand and they all stopped before ascending the hill in order to parley briefly. 

Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah came up to the scouts and Lion Slayer asked quietly, “What’s up? Did you lose the trail? No, I can see you didn’t.” 

Eagle Eyes spoke next. “That’s just it. This trail is so easy to follow, we again worry that we may be following the trail into a trap of some kind. I know we all hurry to save Tu-Swift, but it won’t help him much if we are all captured!”

Shadow Walker sensed the group worry of facing an uncertain enemy. Each of them, even their banquet guests, felt urgency to find Tu-Swift as quickly as possible, even knowing that he might have been killed days ago. He scanned the land ahead. 

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“You are right to be cautious. A people who stand on horses and steal children are difficult to understand. Now, we also learn from our friends from the South that such people lie as a way of life, pretending to something they do not really believe to gain material benefit. Also, we see from our own eyes and fingertips and ears that they have some kind of hard, dead rock that they have fashioned to their own purposes. Who knows what other tricks they may have. Still, the trail is clear for now. Let us ascend this hill at least and before we attain the summit, before we may be clearly seen to stick out among the brush, we will stop again and plan our next steps. There is insufficient cover for a large party to ambush us. The pups seem to sense no danger either but are eager to continue. I still suspect, but do not know, that these people rely on speed more than stealth. Perhaps they judge that it takes too long to cover their trail. Covering the trail of trained warriors is one thing. Covering the trail of our huge four legged cousins might be too difficult and time-consuming. It would diminish their advantage of speed.” 

After a silence, they all nodded their agreement and the group again spread out and ascended to just below the hill crest without further discussion. They reached a pleasant spot near a bent oak. Eagle Eyes crept alone to the brim of the hill, being careful to move only when the wind moved the grasses and weeds. She crawled back after a time to report on what she had seen. 

“I think we are close! The trail continues just as obvious as ever. The other side of this hill is much like the side we already know. At the end of the downslope there is another stream to ford. It appears that there is a broad road down there. On the far side of the stream, I see the smoke of several fires rising among the fir trees. Of course, I do not know what lies further beyond, but it appears we are close to at least one of their villages. Yet, I see no sign of lookouts.” 

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Shadow Walker considered this as everyone seemed to look at him for a plan. “You do have amazing sight, Eagle Eyes. Though the child stealers do not care about their trail, we now must proceed with some caution. Rather than come up over the crest of the hill, where we could easily be seen, I think we should descend on this side and wait until cover of dark and very carefully ford the stream to scout out their camp without being seen or heard. We should go in our three pairs, see what we see, and return to this place to further plan with our new knowledge. Does that seem a good plan?” 

The group looked at each other, but no-one had a better plan and they all nodded. When the moon rose, they began to pick their way down the leeward side of the hill. Privately, Shadow Walker had been a bit concerned as to whether the Nomads of the South could tread silently but he quickly realized that they were every bit as stealthy as the Veritas themselves. 

Soon, they were all at the edge of the icy river. Each braced themselves for the cold shock so as not to gasp aloud. The river proved easy to ford and on the far side they split up into pairs, cautiously and slowly approaching the camp though none could see a sign of any guards. 

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Shadow Walker and Easy Tears crept around the eastern side of the encampment, giving a wide berth. The ROI, if that’s what they were, seemed singularly inactive at night. They heard no dancing, drumming, or singing. At they worked their way further north, Shadow Walker heard the noise of horses. He made a gesture to signify the animals with his fingers and Easy Tears nodded. Shadow Walker recalled that once, long ago, he had played with a very young Tu-Swift making the shapes of all manner of creatures with their hands while mimicking their sounds as well. He felt his love for Tu-Swift and, for a moment, wanted to scream his name out in the night. But such foolishness, he knew, could mean death for them all, including Tu-Swift. At last, they came quite close to a large fenced in space where many horses milled about and nickered nervously. The human duo hid behind a large, nearby stack of split wooden logs. 

Shadow Walker peered again at the horses and frowned. Something was not right about these horses. Although their main task was to free Tu-Swift, he also wished to know more about these horses. Putting his head close to the ground, he spied around the wood pile at the horses. He frowned. He could see that they were tethered leg to leg and foot to foot so that they could not really run free but only walk slowly from place to place. Shadow Walker grimaced. It felt unnatural and anti-life to him to tether a creature with such an obvious love of speed and freedom. Apparently, the horses did not much care for such tethering either for several of them were attempting to chew through these ropes or vines that ligated their legs. He watched the horses but learned little more. 

He looked over at Easy Tears and noticed how beautiful her skin looked in the glow of the moon. He thought then of Many Paths and wished once again that they had had time to talk of whether they should marry. He smiled as he recalled the first time he had felt true love for her beyond his strong desire. It had happened when she was describing what she had learned about the wolves. He had listened to her words and felt beyond her words to her imagination, her cunning, her careful observation, her empathy and even love for the wolves. 

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He wished that he could have her advice right now along with the gentle touch of her hand. He looked at his own rings of empathy and remembered their trials. He took off the First Ring of Empathy, with its odd double-vision crystal and took it between forefinger and thumb and turned it in the moonlight. Easy Tears noticed and smiled at him. 

He looked at the face of Easy Tears. She said nothing, but he distinctly heard the voice of Many Paths say, “Drums” as clearly as though she had been right beside him. He looked again at Easy Tears but she had not spoken. He was sure of it. And, the clear and gentle voice he had heard was definitely that of Many Paths, not that of Easy Tears. 

Shadow Walker shook his head. He was probably tired from the long journey and the lack of sleep. Perhaps they should be turning back to rejoin the others. Who knew how late these people awoke, these stealers of children. Again, he heard Many Paths speak the word “Drums” quite clearly and distinctly. He shook his head at his own foolishness and recalled the time that they had used drums to communicate with Pond Mud among the … 

Shadow Walker returned the ring to the ring finger of his left hand. 

“Drums!” he whispered aloud. Easy Tears turned to him and frowned, thinking it odd he had broken protocol to speak, even in a whisper, so deep inside an enemy camp. 

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Trees Die at the Edges

27 Friday Feb 2026

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

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When Tu-Swift had awakened after his first day of stable duty, he initially thought that these people who stand atop horses must have beaten him. When he considered the matter, he realized it was simply that his body was not used to the particular work. That did not lessen the pain. 

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When he awoke after the second day of duty with the horses, however, he was even sorer and his hands were blistered. As he awoke, and the dim light shattered his night dreams, the physical pain stabbed most when he first began moving. He had long ago learned, as had all the Veritas, to put physical pain out of mind. He chose not to do this. Focusing on his physical pain helped fuel his resolve to escape this place and to take his small companion with him. The aches and burns also kept a deeper, darker pain at bay — the doubt that he would ever be rescued. 

He imagined the voice of his sister, Many Paths, encouraging him not to fill his belly with the first plausible hypothesis that came to mind. Yes, it was possible that the Veritas had been utterly destroyed in the surprise attack, but was it likely? He reminded himself that the Veritas had not only defeated the surprisingly numerous Cupiditas, but also withstood two potential enemies — the Nomads of the South and the Fierce and Formidable Warriors of the North without even fighting them. 

The Veritas might still be engaged in battle with the horse people. Or, they may be on their way to rescue him but it would take longer on foot. They might have already been here with a small party and seen that this compound is too heavily guarded for a small force. That seemed somewhat unlikely, but still possible. Surely, if they had gotten close, they would have signaled or queried him with the modified calls of birds. And, he would have responded to let them know he was here. The modified bird call language was not sufficiently nuanced for him to know how to warn them that there was another child here in need of rescue. 

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He silently thanked his tribe for all that they had taught him about survival. But Day-Nah was a problem. It wasn’t his “fault” that he was so young and small, nor that he knew so little of the language of the Veritas. While even Fleet of Foot could surely not outrun a horse on open ground, Tu-Swift felt he stood a good chance to outrun his pursuers if he could find the right kind of terrain. But Day-Nah? A better option for him would probably be to hide high in a tree or in a small hole until they gave up looking for him. Tu-Swift realized he knew little about these people who stand on horses and steal children. Day-Nah was not much use as a slave so perhaps they would give up on the search without much persistence. 

Three large, well-muscled men came to awaken the children and left them each a bowl of food. Soon, they were pushed and pulled out into the large open place with horses and foals again. The men gestured and made it clear that Tu-Swift should separate and catch more foals and tie them up. As they entered the clearing, Tu-Swift noticed that poison ivy vines hung heavy on the trees surrounding the paddock. 

He recalled the words of She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives when he had remarked to her a few summers ago about the poison ivy in his own village. The elder shaman had explained how trees needed each other to survive high winds and to kill off parasitic intruders such as poison ivy and boring insects. In the manner of such a teacher, she had gone on to say that it was the same with the Veritas. Each member of the tribe helped nurture and protect all the others.

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“Trees die at the edges. That is the way of it. And, so it is with us. A person alone in the vast world is much more at risk than the tribe,” she had pointed out.

At the time, he had take much comfort in her words. 

Today, however, a great sadness and despair threatened to overwhelm him because now he himself was a “tree at the edge.” 

A memory now flashed into his mind — a huge spider web that he and Shadow Walker had happened upon. Shadow Walker had invited him to observe with him for a time. The spider hung out at the very center of his web. Whenever a flying insect strayed into its web, it would rush to the bug, bite it, and wrap it with webbing. Once, however, it happened that two bugs hit the trapping web at the same instant. The spider rushed off to wrap up the larger one for later consumption. Spider then returned to the center. Spider seemed unable to remember where the second insect had landed. One by one, he carefully and methodically thrummed the strings, one by one. At last, one of the strings caused a renewed struggling by the insect. Instantly, the spider travelled up that spine of his string to the hapless bug, bit it, and prepared it for later consumption. Shadow Walker had questioned Tu-Swift who at last saw that the bug’s fear had caused it to give away its position and hastened its own death. 

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Shadow Walker waited until Tu-Swift had seen this before putting it into words. “Fear is natural when one is trapped. But we are humans. We can wrap our fear in our own thoughts for a time and hide it – and ourselves – until we find a way to escape. To further cement the point, Shadow Walker grabbed Tu-Swift by the wrist and held him tight. “Get loose!” 

Tu-Swift had tried to jerk his hand away. He pulled and tugged, but Shadow Walker was much stronger. It seemed hopeless. Then, he realized that Shadow Walker was encouraging him to think — not simply to react. He looked at his wrist and noticed that it was more of an oblong than a circle across. And Shadow Walker’s hand was not a completed circle but a circle with a gap. Rather than struggle, Tu-Swift had relaxed. He imagined sliding the edge of his wrist out through the slight opening where Shadow Walker’s thumb and fingertips came together. Tu-Swift imagined a swift jerk of his wrist through that opening. He forced himself to relax still further. Then…zip! He slipped his wrist out through the gap before Shadow Walker could react.  

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Fear could kill you. And calm thought could save you. Tu-Swift had learned this lessons well. 

Tu-Swift took deep breaths of the cool clean air. Even the horses smelled good to him as he breathed in their sweet odor. He looked around at all the life that thrived around him. None of it survived and thrived through sadness. Feeling sorry for oneself might be “justified” but it was not the path to survival. The path offering promise, the path of resolve spoke to his inner heart of courage. He would wrap his fear and sadness up for now so that these captors of kids could not see it. He would think instead.

He gestured to one of the three burly ones who accompanied Dah-Nah and Tu-Swift to give him a switch such as they all carried to whip the horses with. The man complied assuming that Tu-Swift wished to use the whip to help separate mare and foal. Instead, Tu-Swift used the handle of the switch to draw his plan quickly in the sandy soil outside the paddock. When he began, one of the men reached to take the switch away, mumbling some words in anger. Then, the men began talking to each other in their odd and unfathomable language. At last, they allowed him to continue his drawing.

He first made a drawing in the shape of the current paddock. Then, he showed an addition with many narrow quick turns. Now, he used his hand as a horse to show that his hand was too big to fit through these narrow passages. He reinforced this analogy by making sounds mimicking the horses and whinnying when his hand was “stuck.” He gently took one of Day-Nah’s hands in his and showed how the small boy’s hand would fit through these narrow passages. Then, he gestured out to the horses. He pointed to one of the nearby mares, a beautiful palomino. Again, he showed how his hand unable to get through the passage. Next, he pointed to her foal and used Dah-Nah’s hand to go through the narrow passage. Dah-Nah’s face lit up. He understood. Surely, the men would as well, he hoped. 

Original Masks by Sarah Morgan

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And, slowly, one by one, the men’s faces revealed that they all “got” Tu-Swift’s idea. They felt a little chagrin that they had not thought of such an obvious ploy themselves, but the ROI were a practical lot. If they found an idea that they could use, they used it. They did not reject it out of hand as the Z-Lotz might have done simply because they had not thought of it themselves. 

The men made it clear that the boys themselves were to construct this addition. The largest of the burly men pointed to a large set of cut planks that had already been cut to use for fence repairs.

Tu-Swift nodded enthusiastically. He returned to his drawing. He showed how he would keep the existing fence in place while they constructed the maze addition and a smaller place for the foals to gather. When all that was finished, they could remove the piece of fence that would prevent the foals from entering. 

Tu-Swift had transformed his fear and despair into a plan. He thought to himself, “Not all trees die at the edges. Not these two.” 

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The Horse Whisperer

16 Monday Feb 2026

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

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Tu-Swift regarded his new companion with a mixture of curiosity, pity, and wariness. The boy couldn’t have been more than five summers. Huddled in a corner, the boy shook with fear as he regarded Tu-Swift with a wild-eyed stare. Tu-Swift wished he had some food to offer the boy, but he had none. His own stomach growled. He had hardly noticed the hunger because he was so thirsty. Inventory, he thought. Inventory will calm me. I must have something to comfort this terrified fellow human being. 

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Tu-Swift calmed his breathing and relaxed his body. If he acted calm, that could help the little one calm down too. Animals of all kinds, including humans, reflected the emotional ambiance around them. He forced himself to stop staring at the other boy and instead focused on assessing his situation calmly. Surely, he thought, if I can make friends with wolf cubs, I can do it with this boy. I am hungry, tired, thirsty, and scared. But I am alive and not badly hurt. My head still hurts and my forearm burns. Burns? I was shot!

Tu-Swift slowly slid over to a spot where he could hold his arm up in the sunlight. His arm was burned but not badly. Suddenly, his memory returned, but it was a broken bowl. He slowly and deliberately reconstructed that bowl. 

He had gone to the feast. He had met with his friends. Many Paths was just joining them. There was an attack. Everyone ran for cover. Tu-Swift had thought he was shot with a flaming arrow. Actually the arrow had not pierced his skin but had pinned his sleeve to the wooden table. But it burned him. He tore his tunic to get free. He succeeded but the feast was being overrun with warriors. He dove under the table. Many strong hands pulled him out. He fought. But someone clubbed him on the back of the head. He lost consciousness. Now, here he was. But he still did not know for certain where “here” was nor why they had stolen him. Recovering his memory nonetheless allowed him to calm himself further. 

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Tu-Swift chanced glancing at the boy. Smiling, Tu-Swift put the flat of his hand on his own chest, he tapped himself and said in a dry whisper, “Tu-Swift.” He repeated the gesture. He tried to lick his lips but his tongue remained dry, his lips chapped. He tried again and said it hoarsely and softly. He hoped those outside would not hear and he did not want to frighten the little on. He repeated his name again. The boy looked a bit less terrified and pointed to his own chest and said, “Day-Nah.” 

To the ears of Tu-Swift, this name reminded him of the speech of the fierce and formidable warriors of the north. He lifted his hand and waved it then pointed with his other hand. “Hand” he said. He repeated it. The little one said “Hand” and then waved his own hand and said, “Ma-Nu.” They continued in this manner, each learning snippets of the other’s language. These “lessons”, Tu-Swift knew, would also remind Day-Nah that the two of them were not so different. After naming body parts, Tu-Swift pointed out through the slats and said, “Horses.” Day-Nah, nodded and repeated something close to that and then said, “EE-qah.” Tu-Swift became ever more convinced that this boy had been stolen from the fierce and formidable warriors of the north, but he couldn’t be sure. He wished he had paid more attention to the elders who had tried to teach him what they knew of other languages. Tu-Swift now knew that he had been a bit too impatient with himself and with his teachers, yearning to run in the fields rather than learning nonsense words of people he would likely never meet. 

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Tu-Swift made his hand into a kind of horse and had it “run” along the packed dirt floor. He said, “Horse (pause) Run!”  Then, he changed the position of his hand only letting his index and middle fingers run as though on two legs, “Tu-Swift Run. Tu-Swift Run.” He pointed at Day-Nah. “Day-Nah Run. Day-Nah Run.” The little boy nodded. Just then, they both fled back into the far corners of their prison as they heard shouting outside. A heavy bar scraped across something and several guards appeared at the door wielding clubs. Tu-Swift felt sure they were both going to be beaten to death, but a guard simply put a jug and a platter inside. Then, the door shut again and they could hear the bar scrape back into place. Tu-Swift approached cautiously, but Day-Nah stayed huddled in the corner.

 Tu-Swift steadied himself, carefully smelling the water and then tasting a tiny drop before deciding it was unlikely to be poisoned. There were so many warriors, they could easily kill the two of them with clubs. Why bother with poison? He knew not to drink too much or too quickly when consumed with thirst, so with great force of will, forced himself to sip slowly. He looked at the little one. He put his two fingers on the ground, and made them go fast like a runner. “Tu-Swift Run Swift!” Then, he made his fingers go slowly, “Tu-Swift Run Slow.” He pointed to the jug and said, “Water. Water – Slow.” Day-Nah Water Slow.” 

The boy nodded. Tu-Swift handed the jug to Day-Nah” and thought, this little one is pretty smart. Day-Nah began slowly and then tilted the jug up but Tu-Swift grabbed it away. “Slow! Dah-Nah Water…slow.” He took a very slow, deliberate sip, and handed the jug back. This time the small boy showed a little more self-control. They both succeeded in keeping the water down and then shared the pasty sour-sweet acorn mash. Again, Tu-Swift cautioned the boy (and himself at the same time) to eat slowly. 

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Two days passed somewhat uneventfully in this fashion, each boy learning a bit of the language of the other and becoming more trusting of one another. The guards left them alone for the most part. On the third day, however, several large guards entered and took away the small boy. Tu-Swift tried to stop them, but one of them struck Tu-Swift across the face sending him senseless onto the floor. Soon after Tu-Swift awoke, they threw the small boy back into the cell. Tu-Swift noticed that the boy was now wearing strange cuffs around his ankles and that these cuffs were connected by a short length of heavy hemp rope. Before he could communicate with Day-Nah, the guards overpowered Tu-Swift and despite his struggles, yanked him out into a nearby courtyard, held him down and put similar cuffs on his own ankles. Now, Tu-Swift could walk, but only in a slow shuffle. The guards unceremoniously threw him back into the dark cell. 

Tu-Swift tried chewing on the ropes but made little progress. His jaw ached with the effort. Day-Nah imitated him but made no progress at all. These ropes were thick and strong. At last, the two of them slept. In the morning, they were led by six guards to the place where the horses were kept. As they approached, the horses whinnied and jockeyed around in their pen. They were fettered even worse than were Tu-Swift and Day-Nah. The guards made it clear that the boys were to clean up all the horse manure. It was exhausting work, mostly accomplished by the older, stronger Tu-Swift, but both boys enjoyed the company of the other and were thankful to be outside in the open air. The horses, though fettered and cowed from beatings, were still dangerous and the boys had to be careful to avoid bites and hooves. As the boys continued to discover each other’s languages, Tu-Swift also spoke re-assuringly to the horses and Day-Nah followed suit. 

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Tu-Swift looked up at the sun and could tell it was mid-day. A half moon also adorned the sky. From this Tu-Swift at last could confirm the directions that he had deduced from the sun’s movement during the day. He remained uncertain of the direction of home. One distant mountain peak appeared to be familiar. If that were indeed “The Old Man’s Nose” they would need to travel almost due south to get home, or at least the home of Tu-Swift. Tu-Swift discovered a sharp piece of stone which he picked up and hid for later use. 

That evening, as the sun sank beneath the distant mountains, the boys were led to stables where some of the more “broken” horses slept each in a small pen. Here, the boys were tied up in their own pen, in the vicinity of the horses but safe from trampling. They were given double rations at night and Tu-Swift continued to speak reassuringly to the horses. This seemed to calm the horses as well as Day-Nah, but mainly he did it to comfort himself. 

In the morning, the guards gave them a bit of water and double rations. Tu-Swift put a small portion of his own rations on the thick rope that tied his anklets together. He hoped horses liked sweet acorn mash as much as he did. If his luck held, they might discover the answer to that question.  

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Author’s Page on Amazon

The first of five essays on SHRUGS (Super Hyper Really Ultra-Greedy Swindlers). 

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The First Ring of Empathy 

Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas 

The Orange Man

At Least he’s our Monster

D4

Travels with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries

The Dance of Billions

The Declaration of Interdependence

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Bill of Obligations

Many Paths becomes Clear

14 Saturday Feb 2026

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

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Tags

book-review, books, fantasy, fiction, leadership, life, mentor, politics, psychology, story, strategy, tactics, teaching, truth, wisdom, writing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————

Author Page on Amazon.

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The First Ring of Empathy. 

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

An Essay on Ripples. 

On Finding Common Ground

The Impossible

The Dance of Billions

Imagine All the People…

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Tools of Thought

Pattern Language Summary

 

 

Myths of the Veritas: Battle Plans

28 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, Veritas

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betrayal, books, cruelty, dialogue, empathy, fiction, greed, life, myths, politics, psychology, story, truth, Veritas, war, writing

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As POND MUD and ALT-R quickly discovered, hanging upside down soon produces a mind-numbing headache. Even the clever mind of ALT-R found it extremely difficult to concentrate. He needed a plan to convince this new leader of the Cupiditas not to kill him but instead to keep him alive until they conquered the Veritas. Of course, he also wanted to convince NUT-PI that he, being a Veritas native, should be made the under-King, the slave-driver, of the remaining Veritas. Keeping a line of thought from falling apart under the pain proved difficult. The required concentration at least kept him from focusing on the many small and large indignities he was forced to endure at the hands of the Cupiditas. Since their society was coordinated through anger and cruelty and power rather than cooperation and deliberation and common purpose, the chance to wreak indignities on others is something in which most of them found great glee. Luckily for ALT-R, POND MUD soon became their favorite target. Initially, this was mainly because he looked (and was) much better built and stronger than ALT-R. In addition, POND MUD was much more reactive and impulsive than ALT-R. Every time POND MUD strived with all his might to break free of his bonds, it encouraged the Cupiditas to even greater cruelty. 

On the morrow, NUT-PI ordered the two cut down. They were brought, with hands tied behind them, still naked, to his cabin and again forced to kneel on the cruel gravel for their audience. 

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“I have decided not to kill you. At least not yet. Indeed, we will use your knowledge to conquer and enslave the Veritas. If we prove successful and you two prove sufficiently useful in this endeavor, we will indeed set you atop the Veritas to have absolute power to do as you will excepting only that I, naturally, will rule over you two. Which of the two of you is of higher rank I leave for you to sort for yourselves. It seems that for now, we will have to trust each other. Now, go forth and discover these guard locations for yourselves. Come back here as soon as you know so you can guide us in our battle of conquest. Go and clean yourselves and then your clothes will be returned. You may break your fast with us and then make haste with your reconnaissance. I need hardly remind you that if this is a trick of the Veritas and you double cross me, you will killed in ways that are so painful that you will look back fondly on last night.” 

After getting cleaned, dressed, and fed, and listening to NUT-PI’s speech, the pair was sent off. NUT-PI made it clear that they were not to be further mistreated but were going to help the Cupiditas conquer the Veritas once and for all. According to the narrative that NUT-PI spun, he had convinced these two that they had better cooperate in defeating the Veritas or face dire and painful consequences. This irked ALT-R because he was given no credit for volunteering to do this. It was his idea, not NUT-PI’s. But, he reckoned, this was a small price to pay for becoming overlord of the tribe and avenging his banishment. POND MUD, for his part, only cared that he was no longer suffering pain and humiliation. He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. 

When ALT-R and POND MUD were well out of earshot of the Cupiditas (or so they believed), and well before approaching the lands of the Veritas, POND MUD began complaining to ALT-R about the disastrous and humiliating treatment they had received at the hands of NUT-PI. 

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“You say you’re so smart! You said we’d be welcomed! You didn’t even know anything about NUT-PI! That was horrible! You…”

“Stop, POND MUD. Stop. Yeah, things were a bit different that we expected, but we still got what we came for! You are going to get all the women of the Veritas that you want. Keep that in mind!” 

“Well, okay, but still. I still have a headache! But it’s a good torture to remember. And, I don’t trust NUT-PI. Not at all!” complained POND MUD. 

“Nor I! I don’t trust him either, POND MUD. But think about it. We will be the overlords and slave drivers of the Veritas. Even if half the Veritas are killed in battle, they will still be much more numerous than the Cupiditas. When the time, is right, we will kill NUT-PI and you and I will rule both tribes. The remaining Veritas will be happy to avenge the Cupiditas under our leadership. We’ll just lead a strike force. We’ll pretend we’re bringing some slaves to work for the Cupiditas and they will secretly be there to assassinate NUT-PI.”

“Really?” asked POND MUD. “Oh, that might be better. I don’t like NUT-PI much at all. Not after what he put us through.” 

ALT-R had doubts that the plan he had just invented and outlined would actually work. But he did plan to depose NUT-PI. ALT-R also hated him. He would have plenty of time to work out a foolproof assassination plan later; for now, his goal was simply to keep POND MUD in line. 

They walked on in silence for a time. Then, POND MUD began to complain again. “And, why didn’t KAVA NUT come and get us! He was supposed to be on the lookout!”

ALT-R shook his head. “No doubt, he was POND MUD. He did the right thing. What would you have had him do? Come into their camp with everyone watching and take on the whole of the Cupiditas to free us? That would have ruined the whole deal and all three of us would be dead by now.”

“Well, okay, but he still owes us. We vouched for him. It’s not our fault no-one believed us when he tried to rape Eagle Eyes. I don’t know why…anyway, he still owes us.”

ALT-R again wondered why he had not somehow found a smarter companion. Ideal would be someone he could still outsmart but not quite so dense as POND MUD. Anyway, I am on the path I am on, he thought. 

“Yes, he does,” continued ALT-R. “And, he’ll owe us still more after we take over. Because this time, we will make sure he has Eyes-of-Eagle just as you shall have She-of-Many-Paths and anyone else you desire.” 

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Soon, they met up with KAVA-NUT. “Remember, we need to find out the guard post positions and not be seen ourselves. That is of the highest importance. Stay away from the Veritas. We’ll meet back here in two day’s time. While we wait for dark, KAVA-NUT, let me recount to you what I learned about the Cupiditas. Then, the three of us must pool our knowledge to understand likely paths and positions that will allow us to find the guard positions. We must walk as quietly as a butterfly finds its way among the flowers.”

All afternoon they planned their reconnaissance missions. POND MUD was to discover guard positions deep in the forest. ALT-R considered POND MUD to have the least chance of being found out if he stayed in the forest, far from most of the Veritas. KAVA-NUT was to determine guard positions in the field of broken rocks that abutted the forest to the north. ALT-R would do the same for that part of the forest nearest the Lake of Reeds. 

Just before the sun began to set, they set out in three different directions. They planned to meet again and combine their knowledge at dawn and then plan out another night’s mission before heading back to the Cupiditas with their knowledge. 

During this time, several of the initiates among the Veritas who had begun vying for the Rings of Empathy came to She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives to say that they felt something was wrong, but they could not say exactly what.  After the last such, She Who Saves Many Lives called all of them all together for she too had felt that things were somehow “off” as though a great storm was coming, though the sky was clear, or as though the earth might be about to rearrange itself, though she felt no tremors. 

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Under the gentle leadership of She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, they engaged in Dialogue. At one point they began to contemplate the pros and cons of habits and decided to change the way that lookouts are arranged as well as the locations. Instead of getting the very best vantage points, they decided they would suggest posting extra guards at vantage points for seeing those best vantage points. They reckoned that POND MUD, ALT-R, and KAVA-NUT might want to wreak revenge. It was well-known among the Veritas, that those falsely accused never exhibit quite so much rage as those rightly accused. Among the Veritas, such false displays of outrageous anger were called something best translated as “emotional diarrhea.” Such had been exhibited in the lengthy council that eventually banished the three of them. Only ALT-R remained calm while both POND MUD and KAVA-NUT screamed and yelled that they were innocent. 

During the Dialog, other observations were made about diversity of life, the value of habits, but also as to the vulnerability of habits. People such as POND MUD, KAVA-NUT and ALT-R, it was pointed out, are generally impatient. Also, they tend to look only at the surface of things rather than beyond to the substance. They discussed butterflies that look to have big eyes so that birds fear a poisonous snake. They concluded to invite the counsel of the one who is so good at surface, Fleet-of-Foot, to help them camouflage. At one point, knowing well the hearts of those three who were banished, they concluded that POND MUD and ALT-R and KAVA-NUT may attack soon.

Yet, several spoke that such an attack would be sure to fail since they were three and the Veritas were many. Being so few, they begin to wonder how they could possibly attack. They reckoned that they must have allies of some kind, whether bird, beast, plant, or a natural disaster like a fire or storm. They recalled the myth of the Orange Man who destroyed a whole people, as well as his own life, by making careless use of fire in a windstorm. 

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They considered the nearby tribes. Could the three be in league with the fierce hunters to the north? But, they reminded each other that such hunters as these have always managed their own affairs. The desert travelers could pose another risk. But it was reasoned that they were too nomadic. She-of-Many-Paths suggested the nearby Cupiditas. But it was pointed out that they were too few. She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives agreed that they were too few for a pitched battle, but she pointed out that the Banished Three have inside information on how the Veritas operate. Knowing such, The Banished Three could think to prevail. 

“ALT-R,” the shaman continued, “is our deepest enemy for he is very smart yet even he, like all, working alone, has blind spots. He failed to find the acorns so well as the possum,” explained She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, “because unlike his cousin, the possum, ALT-R came looking for rules that would allow him every single acorn and as a result obtained fewer. He promised me that he would learn from this, but I remain skeptical. He might have learned, but he may still assume that everything is far more orderly and predictable than it truly is. This is because underneath it all, he has overwhelming greed which makes him believe utterly that he deserves everything for himself. His bonds of friendship only last so long as he sees it as worthwhile. POND MUD and KAVA-NUT are the same. They could use inside knowledge to find how to attack us, but not if we keep changing our tactics and strategy. This will require the utmost of trust and empathy and good communication. Yet, such communication must remain hidden from The Banished Three.” 

Dialogue continued, “If only we could fly like bird,” said Eyes-of-Eagle. “Or, swing from vines? Though this is too risky and too overt.”

Trunk-of-Tree suggested, “We may scare birds with stones to thus reveal false positions. Would our cousins the birds object to using them thus for such a purpose?”

Shadow-Walker added, “But vines could be wound around the upper branches of many trees looking thus much like ordinary trees. Many such could be tugged this way and that to show the movement and direction of incoming enemies. Enemies may not always be human. As we said, in the Myth of the Orange Man, he started fires so that the people would flee leaving him free to loot all their possessions. Instead, his own greed caused his death and so many innocents as well. Surely, even ALT-R would not set a fire to kill everything. We do not know what kind of enemy we are facing so we must prepare for many such enemies.”

“There may be another way,” said She-Of-Many-Paths. “If any of the three are spotted, let me talk to them and see into their hearts.”

“That is very dangerous,” cautioned Shadow-Walker. 

“Yes it is,” admitted She-of-Many-Paths. “Yet, we may gain much information. Let us decide how to arrange it so that you and Trunk of Tree and Eagle Eyes are nearby.” 

“Why not just capture one of them alone and apply pain until their plans are revealed?” 

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives said, “That may work, but such torturing may change us as well and turn us into something we do not wish to become. Often, people with plans that they think clever plans may reveal them if we listen patiently.”

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She-of-Man-Paths added, “But do not try to protect me unless absolutely necessary. It will be greatly preferred if they do not know you are there.” 

At the end of the Dialog, She-of-Many-Paths declared that she sees a time when they may dialog with each other even when they are not in each other’s presence. This will enable them  to anticipate each other’s actions and, in this way, coordinate with each other as the birds in a flock anticipate each other’s actions and flow as a whole without collision. 

The initiates prepared over the next several days. They played several games that She-of-Many-Paths devised. In these games, they could only win when they guessed the actions of the others. At first, they guessed badly, but over the course of days, they became very accurate at such things as guessing the symbol or picture that each other wrote on a skin with charcoal and the number of pebbles each other held so that the total was some predetermined number.

Those among the Veritas who were expert at making arrowheads and spearheads made many such in preparation for a possible trouble. Those among the Veritas who were expert at finding vines did so. And, each of the Veritas, in their own way, made reluctant preparations for war.  

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives helped preparations in another way. She sent the initiates off in different directions into nearby woods and fields and had them meet up. Where this meeting would be was to be determined by an internal dialog with the others. They had to meet up at different places each time. At first, everyone met up in a different place. Then, pairs began to show up together. Eventually, they all met up at the same place.

During one such exercise, when they had nearly converged, She-of-Many-Paths heard someone tramping through the bushes in a noisy way that she recognized as the careless tromping of POND MUD. She stood still enough to become nearly invisible to many of the creatures in the forest. She alerted Shadow-Walker, Trunk-of-Tree, and Eagle Eyes through whistles. When She-of-Many-Paths was quite sure that her allies were in place, she moved to a likely spot near a path so that she might confront POND MUD. He walked right by her though his eyes were scanning back and forth in the dimming light for possible places for guard stations.  

She stepped out onto the path behind him and spoke. “POND MUD. You have broken the rules of banishment.” 

He whirled quickly, “Where did you come from? What are you doing here?”

“I am of the Veritas as you well know POND MUD since once you were one of us as well. But no longer. To be found here now could be your death. You must leave.” 

POND MUD folded his arms defiantly and spread his legs. “Then kill me if you must. I have a much right to be here as anyone!”

She-of-Many-Paths slowly walked toward POND MUD looking into his eyes and seeing into his heart. “I know that ALT-R humiliated you. Why do you still work with him?”

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At first, POND MUD denied it and said it was She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives who humiliated him by showing him a cabin that he wasn’t strong enough to destroy but ants were strong enough. “You listen to her tales and try to win her rings if you like. But you will see! You will see soon enough!”

She-of-Many-Paths spoke gently, “That was not done to humiliate you but to teach you the important lesson that though you are very strong for a person, you could accomplish so much more working with others rather than trying to overpower them with your strength. Now, you are alone and all your strength gains you nothing, for you failed to learn the lesson.”

POND MUD snorted. “That shows how much you know! I have plenty of helpers! ALT-R, KAVA-NUT…No, never mind. You will see.” 

She-of-Many-Paths shook her head sadly. “Still working with ALT-R? POND MUD, he will betray you just when you need him the most. He uses the strength of his brain to overpower you.” Here, she paused and looked hard into POND MUD’s eyes and soul.  “And humiliate you.”

POND MUD’s face grew red. “He wasn’t humiliating me! He was saving my life! I could only get out of the quicksand by blowing bubbles. That’s why I had to put my face in the mud. He saved my life!” 

“How does blowing bubbles in the mud save your life?”

“Well, it did, because here I am!” 

She-of-Man-Paths thought of various examples that might show the error of this logic, but realized that POND MUD was not now in a very receptive mood for lessons. She-of-Many-Paths recalled the lesson of training trees which She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives had taught her long before she had begun her quest for the Rings of Empathy.

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives had once led her to a very small cave in a forest not far from the Lake of Reeds. “Now, suppose,” she had said in her ever gentle voice, “that you wished to keep this cave a secret known only unto the two of us. How might you hide it for a very long time?” 

She-of-Many-Paths had said, “Well, I could fill the entrance with rocks. Though that would be much work now and presage further work whenever I wanted to use it. I could cover the entrance with sticks, or broken trees. That would be too obvious to an eye that looked at it with more than a glance. These nearby saplings would look more natural. She took one such sapling whose slender trunk plunged skyward and tried to push it over the entrance. The sapling, though young, was surprisingly strong so she put her hands around it and began climbing with her body below it thus bending the tiny trunk toward the cave entrance. As she climbed she pulled her whole weight down. Just as she felt she was making good progress, the sapling cracked and spilled her sprawling onto the ground. Now the sapling was nearly torn through. Oh, so sorry, tree. Well, that looks pretty obvious and could draw more attention toward the cave than before.” 

“Yes, She-of-Many-Paths. Indeed, you are correct. Your idea of using saplings to hide the entrance is a good one, but suppose you need not be in such a hurry.” 

“I could use vines to loop around it and move it just a little. Then, perhaps, I could come back in a week and bend it a little more. I could come back every week for a long time. Eventually, the tree would grow bent over the entrance but not be broken as my hurryingd has done. I could do that as well to another tree on the other side. I could, in this way, encourage both trees to bend farther and farther toward covering the entrance. Then, as they grew, in this healthy way, and grew more leaves and branches, the trees would cover the entrance in a natural way. Though this would be a good cover except when the cold df winter encouraged the trees to drop their leaves. Above though, are more vines which I could likewise and somewhat more easily encourage to grow down over the top. This would take some time, but after a few years, the cave would indeed be well-hidden from all but the cleverest of eyes.” 

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives had smiled her warm smile at She-of-Many-Paths and had suggested, “Perhaps we can test your idea. You continue with your plan for two dozen moons and then I will return with you and we will see how well-hidden this cave entrance has become.” 

She-of-Many-Paths had continued the slow bending of the trees and the slow encouragement of the vines from above. At first, there seemed little progress, but by the end of the 24 moons, the cave entrance was indeed quite well hidden, even in the dead of winter. 

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She-of-Many-Paths recalled this entire incident in a flash and knew that she had tried to bend the mind of POND MUD far too quickly. He was already convinced that ALT-R was his true friend and had saved his life. Her words had been true of course, but they only firmed the thoughts of POND MUD on his current deadly path. Yet, She-of-Many-Paths did not have 24 moons, and probably not even one to gently incline the perception of POND MUD toward a path of actual truth.    

“Indeed you are here, POND MUD, and I suspect that is more because of your own strength than because of ALT-R, but I have no wish to argue with you. You are indeed here, not far from the very people who have exiled you. Yet, you know the penalty for being here is death. You risk that. For what?”

“Not your business.”

“I don’t see ALT-R risking his life to find out this vital information you seek.” 

“He’s doing the same elsewhere. And if you kill us, you will have to answer to him and to NUT-PI.”

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“I have no desire to kill you POND MUD, and you are far too strong for me to overpower you.” At these words, She-of-Many-Paths felt a slight twinge of conscience. While it was strictly true that she had insufficient strength to overpower POND MUD, she had no doubt whatever that she could have dispatched him with one or both of the sharp daggers she had hidden on her person, even before her waiting and watching friends intervened. It was also true that she had no desire to kill POND MUD though she would have done so gladly if it could have saved the Veritas. And, it appeared from the stumbling words of POND MUD, and more so from those words he did not say but from darkness within him that he was trying to hide, that he and ALT-R  and NUT-PI, whoever that was, were up to no good. She was aware that, although she spoke literal truth, POND MUD might take those words in a way that planted seeds of untruth in his mind. Nonetheless, she persisted, “I certainly have no desire to kill your new friend NUT-PI whom I do not even know of.” This too was strictly true. She-of-Many-Paths ventured a guess, “Is he perhaps a friend of CHOFM?” 

“Friend?!” POND MUD snorted. “That shows how much you know! You think you’re so smart with all your rings of empathy! NUT-PI is a far stronger and younger king than CHOFM!” 

“Stronger than CHOFM? That is strong indeed, POND MUD, for CHOFM is known to be quite strong, possibly even stronger than you. What of this NUT-PI? Is he stronger than you?” 

POND MUD frowned, “I’m stronger. But NUT-PI…You’ll see.” 

She-of-Many-Paths, like the rest of the Veritas, felt great anger toward POND MUD for lying about KAVA-NUT. Yet, she could see that beneath his blustery anger and boasts was a boy quit unsure of himself. It reminded her of what She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives called a “Killing Circle.” The more he felt alone and incapable, the more he tried to rely on his strength and the strength of those who played to his ego. This, made him even more cut off from true friendship. Even before being banished, he had felt — and still felt — cut off from the tribe of the Veritas. And the more he had acted this way, the more the Veritas despised him. And, the more they despised him, the more alone and incapable he felt. 

{Translator’s Note}: We would typically call this a “positive feedback loop” in today’s cybernetic parlance, though a “positive feedback loop” can be a “virtuous cycle” as well as a “vicious cycle.” The Veritas had no special term, at least that I have discovered, for a “virtuous cycle.” I believe this is because they viewed the normal course of life to be a giant web of “virtuous cycles.” 

She-of-Many-Paths, true to her name, considered many ways to try to draw more information from POND MUD. Presently, she said quietly, “Do you think you were wronged by the Veritas when they banished you and KAVA-NUT and ALT-R?” 

“NO! I don’t care!” POND MUD answered loudly and quickly. Too quickly, and too loudly, it seemed to She-of-Many-Paths as though he had already prepared himself for such a question; as though he could not acknowledge the hurt behind his anger and treachery. “Just wait! You’ll see what happens to those who defy us! You think you are so smart! All this empathy will do you no good. Rings indeed. They will be no match for spears and arrows.” 

“You may be right, POND MUD, but you had good insights yourself in the first trials. Speaking of which, where are your Rings of Empathy? Surely, you didn’t throw out such well made jewelry.” 

“I – it’s not for you to know. It doesn’t matter! I’ve wasted enough breath on you and the Veritas. The Cupiditas do not gab all day. We train and … you and I have a date. A date of reckoning. Till then, go seek your precious rings. I do not need mine.” 

In a flash of insight, She-of-Many-Paths said quietly, “Was it your idea to give NUT-PI your rings? Or, was it ALT-R’s?” 

Having She-of-Many-Paths look thus into his heart plucked at small remnants of his longings to return to the Veritas, but precisely because of this, it flared his anger. Fundamentally, he was angry with himself, or, more accurately that part of himself that still felt a connection to truth and love and life. The truth he wanted to avoid above all others and the truth he desperately wished to avoid at all costs was that he longed for the past, his past, a past which would never — and could never — come again. He had chosen a different path and he hated any hint that he had chosen the wrong path, particularly when it stirred such feelings of longing within himself. He felt such rage at himself, displaced onto She-of-Many-Paths that he could barely contain himself from killing or maiming or raping She-of-Many-Paths then and there. Instead, he bellowed like an animal and ran off through the forest. 

She-of-Many-Paths looked at his retreating figured and wondered whether banishment had been the correct punishment. Before following this line of thought very far however, her companions came onto the path where she stood. Shadow Walker was the first to arrive and the first to speak, “I could not hear all that you said. I could hear almost all of what POND MUD said though. Indeed, every beast in the forest could probably hear him. How did you make him so angry?” At these last words, Eyes-of-Eagle and Trunk-of-Tree arrived as well. She-of-Many-Paths spoke again, “I said nothing to make him angry, though at each point, he chose to make himself angry over what I said. I honestly think he feels sorry for his choices and sorry for pitching his tent with KAVA-NUT and possibly with ALT-R though he believes, or at least part of him believes, that ALT-R saved his life. 

Trunk-of-Tree laughed. “I heard that. By making him blow bubbles in the mud? What a fool.” 

Eyes-of-Eagle shook her head. “I knew that POND MUD was not so bright as some but I never thought he would fall for such a blatant lie as that.” 

“Indeed,” said She-of-Many-Paths, “but don’t forget ALT-R is smart and had plenty of time to bend his mind. Anyway, we should focus on what we learned. Unless, POND MUD is a far better artist of camouflage than even the bullfrog and walking stick, he and ALT-R, and KAVA-NUT are indeed in league with the Cupiditas. They are going to try, not to kill us all, but to enslave us or at least some of us. Apparently, CHOFM has been vanquished by a new king, NUT-PI and POND MUD has given away his Rings of Empathy as a gift to solidify their fealty. Probably, ALT-R gave his up as well.” 

Eyes-of-Eagle shook her head, “I find it hard to believe that ALT-R would honestly pledge his fealty to anyone. It is not the shape of his ambition. That shape always leads to himself at the top of any hill such as the people may occupy.” 

She-of-Many-Paths nodded gravely. “Yes, I also think it so. I believe that each of these are playing a game of make-believe. Each strives to make the others believe that they are faithful to a common cause when in reality, each has a different interest and the only thing they share is that they will use each other only so long as it suits their purpose. After such a time as the Cupiditas were to enslave us, they would betray each other. It may be that there is a way to reveal this. Meanwhile, we must prepare and redouble our efforts for I feel from POND MUD that this attack will come soon. We must redouble our preparations and share all that we have learned.”

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Books on Amazon. Author Page

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

“Turing’s Nightmares” – speculative fiction on “The Singularity”

“Fit in Bits” – describes numerous ways to work exercise into daily activities for more fitness and more fun.

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

Poems about war and peace

Fish have no Name for “Water”

All We Stand to Lose

Guernica

After All

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Peace

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Who Won the War?

An Open Sore from Hell

The Walkabout Diaries

Sunsets

Natural Variation

Life Will Find a Way

The Life of the Party

Precipitation

Levels of Beauty

Bee Wise

Symphony

How Beautiful and Green

Mind Walk

 

 

The Story of Story, Part 2

16 Friday Jan 2026

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

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Tags

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

Introduction: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stakeholder Stories Solicited at their Sites. 

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

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

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

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

Guidelines for Soliciting Stakeholder Stories. 

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

Story Elicitation Guidelines:

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

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

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


Author Page on Amazon

The Walkabout Diaries

The Myths of the Veritas

A Pattern Language for Collaboration

Travels with Sadie

Fifteen Properties

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

After All

All We Stand to Lose

Imagine All the People

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar


Tools of Thought: Theory of Mind

19 Friday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

"Theory of Mind", AI, cooperation, Design, education, empathy, life, mental-health, poetry, politics, psychology, religion, sports, teamwork, truth, writing

Theory of Mind. 

“Theory of Mind” refers to the ability of most humans to imagine, at least to a degree, what another person is likely to do based on their knowledge of what the other person knows. Here is a simple test used to determine whether someone has this ability. 

You are the “subject” being tested and you are in a room with me (the “experimenter”). Your friend Vlad is in the room too. In full view of you and Vlad, I hide a giant luscious chocolate chip cookie (such as you might purchase from Panera, but won’t because you realize that if you buy it there is no way you aren’t going to eat it!). I “hide” this cookie in the top drawer of my desk. Now, Vlad walks out of the room. He’s well out of sight. Now, I take the cookie out of my drawer, and using great self-control, do not eat the cookie myself but instead put it in my pocket. 

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Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Now, I turn to you and ask, “When Vlad comes back, where will he look for the cookie?” If you are 2, 3, or 4 years old, you would say, “In your pocket!” I rephrase this a few times to make sure you understand that I am not asking you where the cookie actually is but where Vlad will search. You again insist that Vlad will look in my pocket. At such a young age, kids do not distinguish their state of knowledge from someone else’s. Most adults will have no problem with this task. They have a “theory of mind” that allows them to know that their state of knowledge is not the same as Vlad’s. Some adults diagnosed with autism will have trouble with this task however.

An interesting question arises as to whether other animals have a “theory of mind.” It is not a settled question. My purpose here however, is to explain what the term means and show how it’s useful for humans. Despite the fact that most adult humans have the capacity to do “theory of mind” tasks and that it is useful, they nonetheless often fail to evoke their capacity.

animal beautiful blonde daylight

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A closely related concept is “empathy.” Empathy generally refers to being able to feel what another person feels emotionally. I see the distinction as one of perspective or emphasis rather than two different entities. These two concepts (empathy and Theory of Mind) are explored in much greater detail in the “Myths of the Veritas” series in this blog. For now, suffice it to say that you might empathize with another person by relating to their facial expressions, posture, or regarding what they say and how they say it. You might see a picture of a small, terrified four-year old alone in a cage and know that they are terrified without having any verified knowledge or detailed knowledge of what they “know” or “don’t know.” They might or might not know any English. And you might or might not know their language or even what their language is. But you can tell that they are in great distress just by looking at them. If you actually feel what it is like to be a small child separated from your parents and being trapped in a cage in a strange place, that is generally called “empathy.” 

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If I were to ask you what kind of pleading this four year old is likely to make in court, if you have  the capacity for a “Theory of Mind,” you might well ask, “Well…I don’t know. What do they know about courts or proceedings? What could they know? They are only four years old.”  You’d be correct, of course, to question whether it was meaningful to have a four year old acting for themselves in court. This would be particularly true if they had to plead in a court where they were unfamiliar with the culture, the venue, and the language. But even a really smart four year old who had been brought up in America and spoke excellent English would not be capable of really understanding the consequences. This kind of understanding demonstrates a deeper theory of mind than simply knowing that because a specific piece of information is in your own head doesn’t mean it’s in someone else’s head. 

In The Myths of the Veritas, people are given a range of tasks that involve what is called empathy. To me, although one can draw a conceptual distinction between understanding another person’s knowledge and feeling an echo of another person’s feelings, when it comes to many practical situations, it’s more important to put oneself in another person’s shoes, than to correctly label the process. 

Writers must often deal with multi-level theories of mind. There is what the writer knows about the events that are being written about in a story. There are the spheres of knowledge that various characters have. Most often, different characters have critically different states of knowledge. What the reader knows is yet again different. And all of these spheres of knowledge change throughout the course of the narrative. 

In The Myths of the Veritas, for example, the author knows throughout that ALT-R is making POND MUD put his face in the mud purely to humiliate him and keep power over him. ALT-R knows it as well. Over time, most readers will come to the same conclusion but not necessarily at exactly the same place in the narrative. Most of the Veritas tribe initially know nothing about this incident, but She-Of-Many-Paths intuits it and eventually many of the Veritas come to understand it. At first POND MUD is fairly certain ALT-R saved his life by making him do it. But as he observes and interacts with ALT-R and others, he begins to doubt that and then goes about actively seeking information from others that would help clarify ALT-R’s true motives. 

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In Othello, the writer knows from the beginning that Iago is an evil sociopath. The audience knows quite early that Iago is an evil sociopath and learns more about his schemes through speeches that Iago delivers directly to the audience. Othello himself, on the other hand, has his state of “knowledge” manipulated by Iago. The audience knows that Othello is being duped by Iago but Othello himself does not know of it or of Desdemona’s innocence when he murders her though at that point, the writer, the audience, Desdemona, Iago, Cassio and other characters all know that Desdemona is innocent. We have some sympathy for Othello because we realize that he is operating on false information. 

Let’s turn to a happier piece of fiction, The Gift of the Magi by O’Henry (William Sydney Porter). In this story, a couple with financial struggles each gives up their most prized possession to buy a gift for the other. The functional value of the gifts is destroyed by what they gave up. Della knows that Jim’s most prized possession is his gold watch so she sells her beautiful hair to get money to buy him a watch chain. Jim knows that Della’s most prized possession is her beautiful hair so he sells his watch in order to buy her some jeweled combs for her hair. Of course, the real gifts they give are not diminished by their being no longer functional. The real gift is the gift of love. The author obviously knows all this from the beginning. Readers “catch on” to what is happening at various points in the narrative, but Jim and Della are the last to learn of the full irony. 

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Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

Sadly, many people seem not to bother trying to understand the situation and capabilities of others. In one of the simplest cases, people are apparently unable to understand how very basic physical properties of the universe result in various people having various states of knowledge. On the tennis court, in a “friendly game,” the players themselves make the calls and keep track of the score. The server is supposed to announce the score before every serve. Some people actually “announce” the score by saying it so softly that only they can hear it! 

In other cases, novice drivers will follow a semi truck so closely that the truck drive cannot see the car behind them. Another trick of drivers is to turn their blinkers on – but only as they begin making the turn. In another post, I explain how one person’s driving behavior in “stop and go traffic” can influence many other people’s. In particular, if you leave a large space between your car and the one in front of you, it makes it easier for many people around you to drive more smoothly because they have a much more complete view of what is happening in front of them. 

buildings cars city cross harbour tunnel

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A more subtle failure in “Theory of Mind” occurs when a person assumes that everyone is motivated in the same way that they are. For example, a person may be so partisan that they will always defend and promote people in their own political party no matter how heinous the crimes of that person. This is an error, but a concomitant error is that such people assume everyone who doesn’t defend the criminal, and certainly anyone who actively resists such a crooked politician is doing so from a purely partisan perspective because that’s what they would do. Sociopaths who cheat may assume that everyone would cheat and the only reason they don’t cheat is because those non-cheaters are not smart enough to get away with it. 

When teamwork is operating at a high level, whether it’s hockey, soccer, tennis doubles, basketball, families, or design teams, people exhibit excellent “Theory of Mind” skills. How are yours? Have you experienced such high functioning teams? How can you improve your skills at “Theory of Mind”? 

One way to improve your “Theory of Mind” skills is to become aware of the kinds of perceptual, memory, and problem solving errors that people are generally prone to. Many of the posts linked to below explore some aspect of human psychology.

group of woman playing on green field during daytime

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


Author Page on Amazon

The Primacy Effect

Labelism

Wednesday

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

My Cousin Bobby

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Iroquois Rule of Six

Happy Talk Lies

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Who Won the War?

After All

The Last Gleam of Twilight

E-Fishiness Mass General Hospital

Me Too

    

Meta-Cognition

18 Thursday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in management, psychology

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Tags

AI, bias, cognition, Feedback, Halo Effect, life, mental-health, politics, Primacy Effect, psychology, science, sports, truth, writing

Meta-Cognition

“Cognition” refers to thinking activities such as problem solving, learning, decision making, and imagining. “Meta-Cognition” refers to thinking about thinking. The science of psychology, over the last 150 years, has learned a great deal about human thinking. If you are reading this blog post, the chances are pretty good that you are a human being. Although there are important individual differences in how people solve problems, learn, make decisions, and use their imaginations, there are also many similarities. To the extent that you understand your own thinking, you can use that knowledge to do a better job of problem solving, learning, decision making and using your imagination. 

woman working girl sitting

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Here are a few examples that you may already be aware of. I really like chocolate. And I really like almonds. Chocolate-covered almonds are one of my very favorite foods. I know this about myself. I also know that I am easily distracted. I’m not the sort of person who begins to write a blog post, thinks about chocolate almonds and then stops writing to rush out to the store and buy a package. In fact, there is almost no activity that I can be engaged in which I would interrupt in order to go buy chocolate almonds no matter how much I crave them. On the other hand, if there were a bowl of chocolate almonds right beside me, in easy reach, I would definitely reach over and grab some whenever I paused in my writing. So, how do I use the knowledge about my own behavior to control my own behavior? 

person holding chocolates and white ceramic mug

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I don’t very often buy chocolate almonds. It’s relatively easy to simply not go to the part of the grocery store where these little devils hang out. If I walk by, I know that they will start singing to me like the Lorelei of legend: “Come get me! I am so tasty. Get me now. Please. I want to go home with you.” But I can’t really hear them that well beyond about five feet. Probably this is because chocolate almonds have a very rudimentary vocal apparatus. 

I do buy them perhaps once a month and when I do buy them I put them in a closed drawer so they are mainly out of earshot. Then, I will have a few and get back to work. I may not have them for days at a time. If, however, I put them in a bowl right beside my computer, I am fairly certain that I would eat the whole box the first day; indeed, quite possibly in the first hour. 

This is an example of using what I know about how I think about things in order to think about arranging the environment to my own long-term benefit. 

Another example, which I may describe in more detail later, is the so-called “Primacy Effect.” This is known in popular terms as the power of “First Impressions.” If your first experience with something — whether it’s dogs, cats, Chinese food, or computer programming — is negative, it will be difficult to overcome that later. This is not only true of emotional reactions. It’s also true about what you recall about something. 

Suppose that you meet someone named Joseph Josephson at a party and Joseph has a beard and long black hair. Perhaps you talk to Joseph for ten minutes. You meet Joseph a few months later at a tennis match and now he is clean shaven and has short hair. You play tennis with him for an hour. A few months later, someone happens to ask you if you know Joseph Josephson. Chances are, an image will pop into your head of Joseph with long black hair and a beard. Of course, sales people, politicians and wise people applying for jobs make use of this and want to make a “good first impression.” Since you now know that first impressions are particularly important, you can use this knowledge about how people think to make sure that first impression is a good one. 

agreement beard brainstorming business

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You can also use that knowledge to help modify your own thinking and decision making. Suppose someone comes to you for a job interview and the first thing they do when they walk in your office is trip over a chair and spill their papers on the floor. That’s unfortunate! It is quite natural to immediately conclude that they are unsuited for the job. At this point, you could remind yourself instead that this is only a first impression and that you should not let it color your judgement about whether they are the best candidate for the job. You probably won’t be entirely successful in not letting it cloud your judgement, but you will be somewhat successful. 

As I explain in The Winning Weekend Warrior, you can also use the “Primacy Effect” in sports. For example, if you are serving in tennis doubles, if you mainly want to hit a flat serve and stay back after serving, you might serve a kick-serve and follow it to the net a few times at the beginning. Even if you never do this again, your opponents will continue to be “looking for” that kick serve and may prepare their return on that basis. 

girl in white and orange stripe tank top holding black tennis racket

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When it comes to evaluating candidates for jobs, you must also be wary of the “Halo Effect.” If you find out something good about a candidate, it will tend to cloud your judgement about other aspects of their qualifications, even if that “good thing” is irrelevant to the job. A physically attractive candidate will tend to be judged as more qualified overall even if the job has nothing to do with physical attractiveness. But now that you know this about human judgements (and therefore also your judgements), you can take steps to minimize the “Halo Effect.” It may help, for instance, if you specifically judge candidates on several dimensions of background or experience. The more “objective” you can make the criteria, the less susceptible the judgments are to the “Halo Effect.” So, if the candidate is very attractive, for example, if you simply give an overall judgement that they are suitable for the job, there will be a relatively large impact of their attractiveness. On the other hand, if you are asked to separately rate the candidate on Work Experience, Educational Background, Appearance, and Relevant Skills, the Halo Effect from their physical appearance will tend to be mainly (but not wholly) focused on the “Appearance” factor. If you answer even more specific and objective questions such as: “Does the candidate have an advanced degree?” or “Does the candidate have more than two years programming in C?” the “Halo Effect” is further minimized. 

two men holding pen and calendar sitting beside table

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One of the most common ways that people use meta-cognition is simply to write things down. You and I both know that we have a tendency to forget. Most of us, therefore have paper or electronic calendars. We don’t typically rely on our own memory to keep track of a complex schedule of appointments. Why? Presumably, we do this because we know that we are likely to forget an appointment if we rely on our brains. Most of us do not bother to put our own birthday on the calendar because we realize that we are quite aware of it and not likely to forget. People who celebrate Christmas often do not bother to put that date on the calendar either. We know that it would be rather hard to forget! Similarly, many people who go grocery shopping and buy milk, eggs, and bread every week do not bother to put it on the list. If your aunt Mary is coming to visit and she requires soy milk, you probably will put that on your shopping list. You realize (through meta-cognition) that this is an item you are likely to forget. 

food healthy vegetables potatoes

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These are just a few examples. Findings about human cognition abound. You can use these findings to do a better job in your own thinking; you can use those same findings to help you in competitive situations in predicting what others will do. If you are interested in more such findings about psychology, you might find these fascinating and well-written books of interest.

Thinking Fast & Slow, by Daniel Kahneman

Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely  


Here are some other blog posts that touch on various aspects of human cognition. Being aware of these helps you use the knowledge to your advantage.

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Labelism

What about the Butter Dish?

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

Finding the Mustard

Fish have no Word for Water

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Happy Talk Lies

The Primacy Effect

———————-

Holiday Gift Ideas: 

For busy professionals who wish to live a long and healthy life: Fit in Bits shows many ways to work exercise into otherwise sedentary activities. 

For amateur athletes who would like to win more, The Winning Weekend Warrior focuses on strategy, tactics, and the mental game for all sports including tennis, golf, softball, etc. 

For Sci-Fi fans, Turing’s Nightmares presents 23 short stories that explore the practical and ethical implications of Artificial Intelligence. 

For those interested in what it was like to grow up in mid-America in the 1950’s, Tales from an American Childhood recounts early memories and then relates them to contemporary events and issues. 

Turing’s Nightmares: Sweet Seventeen

28 Tuesday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, family, fiction, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, cybersex, fiction, psychology, SciFi, Singularity, technology, writing

IMG_4663“Where are you off to sweetheart?” “Sorry. I just remembered an email I have to respond to by — well, it’s Tokyo, you know.” “All right, but it’s after midnight here in our time zone. Can’t it wait?” “Well, not really. I will just lie here thinking about it anyway until I go do something about it. Just a few minutes Patrick. Go to sleep.” Rachel slid into her slippers and threw on her robe. The hardwood floors between their bedroom and her home office felt cold and damp in Delaware’s December, even through her faux-leather moccasins. Rachel plunked down at her computer, fired up the 3-D visualizer and frictionated her hands together vigorously. Meanwhile, Patrick stared at the ceiling, faintly lit by the lonely glow of the entertainment center’s vampire power indicator lights. Rachel’s job helped provide them a great lifestyle, but it demanded a lot too. This was the fourth time this week she had to get out of bed late and go work on the computer. His job as a lawyer demanded a lot too, but he long ago decided his health came first. He would bring her some hot tea. Maybe he could surprise her. He’d just sneak the tea out one second before the microwave beeped. Two minutes later, Patrick padded silently into Rachel’s office. He stared for a minute, uncomprehending. The tea, the teacup and his plans to silently surprise her clattered noisily onto the oak floor where entropy had its inexorable way with all three.

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Patrick’s lips moved but no words escaped for a long moment. Rachel jumped banging both thighs painfully into her desk. “What!?” She spun around and looked at Patrick accusingly. “What are you doing here?!” She had not meant to snarl. Patrick flushed. “What the devil are you doing? Are you having phone sex with…with him? I thought you hated him!” Rachel’s mind was spinning. “I thought you were in bed. No. I mean, no, I’m not…why are you here? I thought you were in bed.”  “What does that have to do with anything? Why are you doing that? And why with him? What the hell? And, why have you been lying to me? This is your vital work you’ve been doing all this time? Cybersex?”  “It’s not what it seems! I just…” Meanwhile, the very realistic Tom avatar continued to lick his lips suggestively whispering all the while, begging Rachel to… Rachel suddenly realized this whole conversation might go better if she shut off the projector. Patrick’s lip quivered. “Do you? Do you love him? It? That nothing? What is wrong with you?! Are you…?” “No! No! Of course, I don’t love him! This isn’t about love. You know I can’t stand him. That’s the whole point! This … this avatar…does whatever I tell him to. I just get a kick out of making him beg for it and being my complete slave.”

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

Now, Patrick’s lawyer mind took over and he felt calm and sounded rational despite his racing heart and dry tongue. “Do you know how sick that sounds, Rachel? Well, in case you don’t, let me tell you. It sounds very sick. And possibly illegal. Do you have permission to use his image…his voice…his gestures…in this way?” “No, of course not. He doesn’t…I assume he doesn’t…I downloaded this from a site where you can download characters like him. You think it may be illegal? Why? I could print out a picture of him from the news media. I can play clips of his broadcasts. Why not this? Isn’t he what you guys call a ‘public figure’? I could even make a parody of him, right?” “Yeah. He is. You can. But that doesn’t mean you can use his images and sounds to build a model of him to have sex with! Anyway, it’s sick! You have a real husband, for God’s sake! This is just … disgusting! Why would you want to have cybersex with someone you hate?” “It isn’t always me. Sometimes, I make two of him and make them do each other.” “Oh, cool. Now, I feel better. You are just sick. You know? You need help. Psychiatric help. Maybe even re-programming. And you possibly, probably–no–certainly need legal help as well. This can’t be legal. It’s only a matter of time till he finds out and sues you and all the other sickos.” “For what, exactly?”

Photo by Sora Shimazaki on Pexels.com

Patrick’s lawyer mind began to churn again. “That’s a good question. I suppose the station could sue you for copyright infringement or trademark violation. I suppose he could sue you for…defamation of character? I don’t know exactly. This is so sick it has never been before the bench. But if Disney successfully sued fans for making up stories based on characters that Disney stole from the public domain like Pecos Bill and Paul Bunyan, you can bet that this company can sue your butt. And, even if they aren’t ultimately successful in the courts, you know your company will not like the publicity. This is not the kind of image they want to project. You are going up against a frigging media company Rachel! You didn’t think this through! They could win. They could take everything we own. What a complete…you are just…How many people can you do this with? Is it just him?” “Oh, no. I don’t know, but I think pretty much anyone famous you can get on-line. I mean you can find a website with the models to download. Then, it takes a long time to compile, but once you have the model, you can get them too do anything. Anything. Think about it. Any. Thing. It doesn’t have to be sex.” Rachel paused, then added softly. “Tempting, isn’t it? Shall we see whether we can find on-line models of your ex?” “No! This is just … disgusting. And, worst of all, this is exactly the kind of behavior that bio-based human beings would have engaged in if we had allowed them any freedom.”

Just Frends Dance Academy by Marina Moldovan is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0


Author Page Turing’s Nightmares The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues Life is a Dance Take a Glance; Join the Dance Who Kept the Magic? Dance of Billions Dream Planet on Barnes & Noble
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