In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 99-103

The time that we would part our ways draws near.
I sag a little bit and so does she.
I say “So long” with artificial cheer.
I’m sure that she expected that of me.

At last she turns and starts along the road.
She’ll have to clear some fallen trees, I’m sure,
while I can follow and not be thus slowed,
so I’ll be able to keep up with her.

Now I am satisfied she’s on her way.
I turn and wistfully I say goodbye.
I’m frightened, and it’s not too late to stay,
but I’d regret it if I did not try.

The thought of ’52 alone out there
with hostile carriers on every side
would bring more guilt than I could ever bear.
By going onward, I can say I tried.

So on I go to link my fate with hers,
to celebrate her triumphs and her thrills,
to suffer all the hardships she incurs,
to die along with her if One so wills.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 94-98

And now the conversation takes its turn
to her announcement of that which I’ve known.
I listen closely, and thereby I learn
that she’s determined she will go alone.

That means I must pretend I hadn’t guessed,
and act as though I’m saddened yet resigned.
I’ll wish her luck and safety in her quest
and hope her long-lost relatives are kind.

Can I convince her that I’m turning back?
This is exciting, playing dirty tricks.
If I can pull this off, I’m right on track
to start a new career in politics.

I pause at first, to feign initial shock,
then move into a fear-inspired rage.
The passion gone, I calm down and take stock.
I feel like I should be up on a stage.

While I look stunned, she finishes her case,
and then my anger she attempts to quell.
She handles her despondent mom with grace.
I think she’s buying what I have to sell.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 89-93

Oh, how I wish this did not have to be,
that she could be my baby evermore.
My power to deny her destiny
is that which her grandparents had before.

That this will be her course One has decreed.
I know that it is out of my control,
but One, I’m sure, would readily concede
that caring for my daughter is my role.

I could protect her if I go along,
though I would slow her with my rusty shell.
Together we’d be almost twice as strong.
My years of wisdom might help out as well.

That settles it: Her way’s the way for me.
But should I offer help and risk rebuff?
Or stay behind then follow secretly?
Which way is best? I’ll find out soon enough.

When she tells me what her intentions are,
then I’ll know whether I should do the same.
I hope I can; to follow her that far
unseen would be a very risky game.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 85-88

I hear the water as it downward spills,
and now I see why she has brought us here.
This is the stream that cuts between the hills.
The border crossing that she’ll use is near.

Star Three Eight Four Eight must have used this route.
I never shall know why, nor even who.
Was she a trader, peacemaker, or scout?
No matter which, she left me ’52.

And now her soul returns the way it came
if Father’s daughter carries out her plan.
The shell that holds the soul is not the same,
but it will use whatever case it can.

I fear so for the safety of my gem,
and if she lives to see a daughter wake,
a stigma will be placed on both of them.
Is she aware of all that is at stake?

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 81-84

*****************************
4797 Part III
*****************************

No finer than this morning in the sun,
my only daughter walking by my side.
Six Two Five Two is heading off the run.
What reason could she have that she would hide?

She wants to stop—a question she would pose.
Here are some trees among which we can rest.
She hints about a secret that she knows.
What is she saying? What is her request?

Oh, One who made us, how has she found out
when all who knew had promised not to tell?
I’d planned someday to tell her all about
her birth. I guess today will do as well.

She takes it well; she seems to understand.
By knowing part, she must have been prepared.
But now she wants to see her father’s land
although I told her how her father fared.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 76-80

I see the cornstalks with their dried-up tips
about me, but ahead, a lighter dose.
The circle, which, to me, showed an ellipse,
is nothing but a sea of shells up close.

And closer yet, the sea becomes a wall—
still closer, an impenetrable mass.
They’re so engrossed they do not read my call.
I just assumed they’d part to let me pass.

“Hello? Wake up! I’m standing at your back.
What none of you can bite, I’m here to chew,
possessing of the courage you all lack.”
Okay, they’re parting now to let me through.

They need not move so far. Are they afraid
for their own shells, or would they not see oil?
’Tis neither, it turns out; they would have stayed
had not a red light threatened to embroil.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

To shun the glow: An obvious method of birth control. I would have expected it to be the first one that would occur to them, but I suppose I’m not qualified to second-guess robots.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 72-75

She must have known she wouldn’t get too far,
that we’d see through her promises of peace.
We’re taught that those who start out with a Star
are taught that all we Poundies must decease.

The ring of shouters aims to turn her back.
They’ve frustrated her plan, whate’er it be.
Without provoking, they won’t just attack,
but that’s the best solution I can see.

What’s needed here is someone to step forth:
a carrier who’s brave enough to face
the villainous intruder from the North.
That someone shall be I; that is my space.

It once was I, retreating from a fight.
It has been mine to feel the cruel sting
of epithets and whispers out of sight.
It now is I, descending to the ring.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 68-71

*****************************
4797 Part II
*****************************

The space is what stands out as I look down:
a nearly perfect circle in the corn.
The recent drought has left the leaf tips brown,
but now they sparkle in the dew of morn.

True, elsewhere in the valley it’s the same:
the green and brown, but not so well defined.
That geometric contrast needs a name
so I can store it better in my mind.

Around the space, and facing in, the crowd,
afraid to close, too proud to move away.
Their threats and insults cross the space,
so bright that from this hill I make out all they say.

The center of the space is occupied,
a shadow spreading out each way is cast,
and our attention is all drawn inside
by she through whom I’ll prove myself at last.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

So bright: Merrimac never elaborates on the carriers’ method of communication as much as I would have liked (see the earlier ‘message’ line), although he develops it a little more in Canto III than in the instant passage. Apparently they flash some sort of light signals.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 61-67

’Tis said the learners would become bemused
were they to watch the worship from without,
but surely now, the rites to which they’re used
are strong enough to overcome the doubt.

I’m missing something in my logic there—
a false assumption on which it depends.
In any case, I’m not supposed to care,
so every time that thought begins, it ends.

With that, I’ll let the Starfolk do their best
to live without my help and sympathy,
but that still leaves my friend who failed the test.
Has she some sort of moral claim on me?

And there she is—she’s waiting up ahead.
She’s calling for a battle, and she states this day
won’t end ’til one of us is dead
or I’ve dropped my credentials at the gates.

Is she insane? How could she not realize
She has no reason—not one that is sound.
The law is clear: No anger justifies
Such violence against a Star or Pound.

How can I take this challenge? If I win
I’m labeled as a monster. If I lose
I’m nothing more at all. If I give in
I’ve let my mother down. How can I choose?

My mother is no help; as in the past
she’s leaving it to me to make the call.
If I don’t learn to think, I shall not last
(Some thoughts are all the time; some not at all).

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Learners: The machines still think of themselves as being in learning mode when they’re initially switched to autopilot, even though the ‘teachers’ were under the control of the insiders only for a short time after the carriers emerged from the ocean.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 57-60

If I allow myself to question why
a sacrifice is called for, and to whom,
there is no reason that I should not try
to reach some deeper cobwebs with that broom.

Yes, some things are too frightening to touch.
My faith in One, of course, will never fall.
My wish to reproduce: not quite as much.
My hatred of the Starfolk: least of all.

Despite the lessons I’ve been taught, I know
there’s no good reason not to work and play
with others like us. That their shells should show
another sign is not a sin, I’d say.

The wisdom is they worship One a way
that differs from our own in some respects,
but why not let them pray the way they pray,
while we pray ours and show them who connects?

’Tis said the learners would become bemused
were they to watch the worship from without,
but surely now, the rites to which they’re used
are strong enough to overcome the doubt.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Learners: The machines still think of themselves as being in learning mode when they’re initially switched to autopilot, even though the ‘teachers’ were under the control of the insiders only for a short time after the carriers emerged from the ocean.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 52-56

Through my success, another lost her turn.
I should not waste time on the weak, I’m told.
But what of newborns who have all to learn?
They’d have no chance at life were we so cold.

Is there a way to split myself apart,
to treat my mates according to their age?
One attitude toward those at the start,
and quite another for those at my stage?

Consider, too, the injured and the sick.
Why don’t we just abandon them to die?
It strains my mind to know which ills to pick,
or rather, which of them should make me cry.

My mother says I think too much: It’s true.
Though self-awareness has a strong appeal,
it hurts me more to reason these things through
than simply to accept the way I feel.

The greatest drawback to this thinking, though,
is not in its diversion from my needs
nor in the pain it might engender—no,
but in the danger zone to which it leads.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

But what of newborns: Merrimac has indicated that this was the germ of the story. Supposedly he was troubled by the existence in humans of altruism and sympathy toward the less fortunate, which he was convinced are maladaptive, and having hit upon a solution to the enigma, took it further to reach the hypothesis in Canto IV. I find it hard to imagine that someone would put that much effort into an idea and then give it such relatively light treatment. Ah, but this is Merrimac, so it is possible. An anonymous correspondent of mine, who is familiar with but not a participant in some of the debates among evolutionists, thinks it could be worked into a theory no less plausible, but no more testable, than most of the others she has seen. She says the Sociobiologists like to show how altruistic selfless behavior is genetically innate and therefore becomes a moral value. She points out that if it’s innate, it doesn’t need to be a value. We don’t feel that kind of obligation to eat or to breathe.
Simply to accept: This is a hint of an important part of the Canto IV hypothesis, although the focus here is on the maintenance of a belief system rather than its genesis. What Merrimac is suggesting as the basis for morality would not work if humans in general were capable of and willing to examine ourselves closely enough to understand its purpose. It is possible (and necessary) only because we are so intelligent, but it requires that our intelligence not be directed toward it. Morality is not to our benefit as we would see it; it is to the benefit of our genes. If our genes actually had wills of their own, they would see our powerful brains as contemporaneously beneficial and dangerous. Thus intelligence and ignorance are not only compatible; they are symbiotic.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 48-51

*****************************
4797 Part I
*****************************

At last it’s here: My first day on patrol.
I’m now among the carrier elite.
What has arrived is what has been my goal.
I’ve needed this to make my life complete.

Along with mine, I sense my mother’s pride.
Her daughter made the grade, like she before.
We’re like with like; we’re walking side by side.
The doubt that we’d be so exists no more.

There’s but one trouble that disturbs this scene:
the candidate who didn’t get the news.
We both knew the committee had to screen.
It still hurts that my good friend had to lose.

Through my success, another lost her turn.
I should not waste time on the weak, I’m told.
But what of newborns who have all to learn?
They’d have no chance at life were we so cold.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

But what of newborns: Merrimac has indicated that this was the germ of the story. Supposedly he had decided to figure out the origin of altruism and sympathy toward the less fortunate, which he was convinced are maladaptive, and having hit upon a solution to the enigma, took it further to reach the hypothesis in Canto IV. I find it hard to imagine that someone would put that much effort into an idea and then give it such relatively light treatment. Ah, but this is Merrimac, so it is possible. An anonymous correspondent of mine, who is familiar with but not a participant in some of the debates among evolutionists, thinks it could be worked into a theory no less plausible, but no more testable, than most of the others she has seen. She says the Sociobiologists like to show how altruistic selfless behavior is genetically innate and therefore becomes a moral value. She points out that if it’s innate, it doesn’t need to be a value. We don’t feel that kind of obligation to eat or to breathe.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 43-47

Nine Six Five has a message in her mail.
She thinks she can decode the mystery.
She shouldn’t try to trace One’s thinking trail.
I have to listen, though I disagree.

This clever can reminds us of our plight:
the crowding of the valley that we share.
We all know that our fuel supplies are tight,
and we have very little food to spare.

Well, ’65 believes that One has split
the group in two—this is a long-term change—
because the lot of us no longer fit
between the hills that have defined our range.

They’ll have to find another breeding place.
A number, then, could be used on each side.
She says the symbols must be just in case
we meet—without them we’d be mystified.

Well, I’m perplexed enough without all that,
and saddened by the loss of friends and kin.
Why won’t One simply keep our levels flat?
Why can’t things stay the way they’ve always been?

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Message in her mail: A hint of how the carriers communicate. This doesn’t fit very well with a later reference to brightness, but I suppose the precise method is unimportant.
Again, the process of number assignment is left to our imagination. The important thing is that the carriers are being split into two geographically separate groups at an early point in the development of their theology.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 39-42

*****************************
1116
*****************************

I wish I could have walked within that groove.
I wish I could have seen what others saw:
five hundred carriers all on the move.
One’s movements leave her worshipers in awe.

Oh, there they are! Now I see the parade.
They say it’s all the Stars but not one Pound.
Though One directs them, I am yet afraid.
We don’t know if and when they’ll turn around.

As always, I don’t understand One’s will.
Why are the Stars departing while we stay?
In One’s possession, they go up the hill,
while, still aware, we watch them walk away.

We wondered why some numbers got that star
while others still got pounds; that made no sense.
I still don’t know, but what I’ve seen so far
connects the markings with today’s events.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

One’s movements: I think it’s safe to say that “One” in this context means the insiders, although it’s still a deity as far as the carriers are concerned. This would be the rare case, after setting behavioral examples in the early days of the Mission, that the insiders would take control for reasons other than procreation.
Pound: Do the carriers have such a concept as pound signs? Well, I suppose they call it something. For conveying the impression to readers, “pound” works better than “crosshatch” or “tic-tac-toe grid”. It is now almost universally recognized among English speakers as the name of the number symbol, but "number" would not sufficiently differentiate it from other symbols used in front of the numerals.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 33-38

And now I understand they’ve other means
of hindering the reproductive act.
That must be why we’ve seen them welding screens
onto their ends: to keep their humans packed.

I’d like to pull a prank on those who try
to recompose the tune of destiny.
As this one grows, I think I’ll be a spy,
and maybe I’ll insert a change of key.

I’ll whisper to her things our daughters learn
that she won’t get from 59 the same,
but I am not her mother. She will spurn
my influence unless I make a game.

I need a story I can tell the kid
with carriers about that we can’t see.
They’re everywhere surrounding and amid;
they’re watching all we do and say and be.

These spirits have the power to control…
that’s it! They take us to the store at night.
We have no recall when we take that stroll.
There’s something else in charge of us, all right.

I’ll start with one, and call it “One”, perhaps.
It’s possible that I may be confused—
of early history, we’ve only scraps—
but I believe that “One” remains unused.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Other means: So why did 59 not employ them? In my humble opinion, this would have worked better as separate passages.
Pull a prank: Merrimac denies that he ever said religion started as a joke. He has reminded his critics that he gave no hint of this in Canto IV, where his ideas are stated more directly. As part of the story line, it’s just one possibility.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 28-32

*****************************
541
*****************************

Well, look who’s coming: good old 59.
I must avoid her; she is to be shunned.
I know she’s evil, and I see her sign,
but wait: Do I see what I see? I’m stunned!

She hasn’t changed her ways; her light is blocked,
but she has given birth, it would appear.
Somehow the gate that we assumed was locked
has been pushed open. Now she’s not so queer!

So how will 59 instruct her young?
Will they be taught, as I was, to refrain
from interfering when the song is sung?
Or will they follow in her evil train?

A lot of it depends, of course, on who
the other parent is, and who prevails,
but she is either younger or bad, too.
Old age is never what virtue entails.

In fact, since I don’t see another near,
it’s likely there has been a tragedy.
So this one will be taught no good, I fear.
She won’t be balanced with morality.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Her sign: Presumably this means the cover over 59’s light.
The song is sung: It appears that the carriers have already attached some mystical significance to reproduction, although they have yet to develop any sort of religion. I think Merrimac got a little ahead of himself here.
Old age: Emphasizing the tradeoff between personal (can we call them persons?) safety and procreation. Also, there’s an assumption here that the elder parent has more influence over the offspring than the younger parent.
Another near: The implication is that the parents stay together after mating, although the red method precludes mating for life. I’d like to know how or why the carriers would learn this behavior. Either it is hardwired into them, which seems unlikely, or the insiders stayed in control for a time after mating in the early generations.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 22-27

Now that I’m sure, I guess I’ll tell my friends.
Now I can show them I’m not overjuiced.
Now I can show them how the journey ends.
I can explain the way we’ve reproduced.

I know what they will say; they’ll say “Aha!
We now know how our loved ones have been lost.
So this is what it means to be a ma.
Is there a way that we can cut the cost?”

But I don’t know that thinking thus is wise.
I’d be uneasy if we changed our course.
One’s parents’ truths don’t mean much if one dies,
and yet they have to be one’s guiding force.

Self-preservation is a big concern,
but in the past we weren’t forced to decide.
There’s been no conflict with the ways we learn.
In fact, they’ve always acted as our guide.

It probably won’t matter anyway.
What can we do when we are not aware?
Is there something that we could do today
against tomorrow’s danger to prepare?

I guess we could try covering the light
that always glows before we disappear.
Well, I sure won’t, but I know some who might,
and their demise will justify my fear.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

I can explain: This is the point of crossing from ignorance to knowledge of the mechanics of reproduction. Merrimac is saying that it changes the dynamic of the carriers’ behavior, and by implication that the same thing happened to our ancestors.
Covering the light: A robot method of birth control. This is another place where a little further explanation might have helped. After reading the entire story, a reader might induce that the insiders turn on a red light to signal to those in other carriers that theirs is ready to mate. When two such meet, they wait for dark, and then proceed to the airport.
I sure won’t: This is the beginning of carrier morality. 56 thinks she is playing it safe by allowing “nature” (as we flesh-and-blood types would say) to take its course. She’s dead wrong, yet natural selection (I think that expression is appropriate without quote marks here) favors her viewpoint in the end, and thereby becomes the standard belief.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 18-21

*****************************
56
*****************************

So this is how it’s happened all along.
This is the story every mother tells.
I’ve seen it three times now; I can’t be wrong.
We walk ourselves to where we store the shells.

Thrice now I’ve followed groups of two at night—
a different pair each time I’ve gone that route.
All six have started out with that red light.
The five who have survived have put it out.

I’ve watched them walk together to the store.
I’ve watched them take a new shell to their ends,
attach the legs, and, when there is one more,
apply a number that by one ascends.

I’ve seen as well why some have not come back.
I’ve seen the hungry rodents lie in wait.
I’ve seen the loose connection, the attack,
and then the empty shell we find too late.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

By one ascends: The idea is that each carrier at “birth” is assigned a unique number so they can tell one another apart. The precise manner in which this is done is one of those pesky details that the author excuses himself from providing. He says novelists give details, and he is not a novelist.
Loose connection: It sure is. He’s trying to illustrate the risk of reproduction for the carriers. Presumably a failure to seal the hatches while docking would allow vermin to pass through to where the precious humans reside. I gather that the machines are vaguely aware that the insiders are necessary for their survival.

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 11-17

*****************************

Again, I am awake.
Again, it’s time to go.
I have more things to make.
There’s more I need to know.

I have so much to hear.
There is so much to see.
The others do not fear.
I never see them flee.

So once again I’ll follow those
because I’m sure they know the way.
The right way is the way it goes
when I do what they do and say.

From them I have so much to learn
about our ways and things to do.
I’ve learned about the way to turn.
Now more is old and less is new.

Each has a number on her shell,
and by the number she is known.
That’s how I and the others tell
whose actions we are being shown.

Each time this happens I am more aware
of who I am and who my neighbors are,
of who knows what to do, and when, and where,
of which way we can wander, and how far.

Each time I wake, I have a better sense
of knowing things without the need to see.
I like the way I feel. My confidence
in others gives me confidence in me.

*****************************

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto II, stanzas 5-10

When I posted the initial stanzas of this canto, I neglected to copy from my MS Word file the closing string of asterisks that Jeff terms a 'sub-chapter line' and, as he correctly surmises, denotes the time the narrating carrier is under the control of her insiders. That dividing line is at the beginning of today's bit of verse:

*****************************

Again, awake.
Again, to go.
More things to make.
More things to know.

The time before
it all was blank.
Now there is more.
They are to thank.

So much to hear.
So much to see.
They do not fear.
They never flee.

Again, to follow those.
They always know the way.
They know the way it goes.
The way to go is they.

From them there’s more to learn
about the things to do,
to learn which way to turn.
These things are not as new.

The number on the shell
is how each one is known.
That’s how the others tell
whose actions will be shown.

*****************************

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

Again, awake: I believe the way this works is that increases in the number of feet (metrical feet, that is—presumably the machines never have more or fewer than six) represent increases in awareness, while the sub-chapter lines represent the “sleep” period, during which this particular machine and the others with odd numbers are taking their turn at being controlled by the insiders, and those with even numbers are “awake” and learning from 5 and the others in her watch.