He hadn’t finished taking in the threat
behind her invitation’s see-through veil,
and now she’d made the poor thing try to get
cylindrically projected into scale.
He reckoned if he ran, the odds were slim
that she could make him stay against his will,
and even if she could hold on to him,
to climb with him would take uncommon skill.
But going up presumably would mean
something he’d only vaguely hoped to do:
to get inside this wonderful machine—
a guided tour by a woman, too!
He kept his back to her as he arose.
As soon as he was on his feet he felt
his sandals separating from his toes,
but first a force effected on his belt.
This time he landed squarely on his butt,
so he could see her standing o’er his head
and waving what could easily have cut
that part of him and left a stump instead.
The female voice had been a pleasing sound.
Those fantasies are big at his life stage.
On seeing her his dream-ship ran aground
on sands of time (or was it rocks of age?).
Cylindrically projected: With her map analogy, Ciral’s heretofore unnamed captor is trying to represent him in fewer dimensions than he in fact possesses. This informs us of the author’s opinion, shared by many, of the simplistic characterizations of Objectivism.
©2010 Louis A. Merrimac
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