In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 147-152

Thus Ciral, at that hour beneath those skies,
a single organism, self-contained,
renounced his birthplace and related ties.
A bond based on a real respect remained.

She took him as the child she never bore.
She passed to him her knowledge and her goals.
Then solitude engendered something more,
and neither saw a conflict in these roles.

She gave him what he thence would think he’d need.
No longer did he care that she was old.
He did not think about his wasted seed.
He did not know what he had not been told.

In those twelve months, the seventeen-year-old
went through a rather metamorphic year.
His face became more pleasant to behold,
his gait more confident, his voice more clear.

Now, normally this process will include
enhanced emotional maturity,
but no such transformation could intrude
on his deep-seated vengeful tendency.

Some places those of reason don’t belong.
It doesn’t serve one’s life to brood and dwell,
and ’tis unjust, when punishing a wrong,
to crucify the innocent as well.

Had not been told: It would not have occurred to the compounders, having no organized religion, that sex should be directed primarily toward procreation. Of course, even people of faith have sex beyond their childbearing years, and when overpopulation is seen as a threat, they feel little compunction about taking contraceptive measures. We find something distasteful, however, about younger men pairing with much older women, and I suppose even that would have been uncommon in the anything-goes environment whence Ciral came. This is probably a reference to Ayn Rand’s famed affair with the younger Nathaniel Branden.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac