In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 1-4

CANTO IV: THE REVELATION

In which we evaluate the boy’s theory and consider whether we should show more compassion, and perhaps even some respect, toward the gods, without whom, after all, we would never have been born.

And God said, 'Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.
—Genesis 1:26

Now ’97’s followers are lost.
Their savior died again. This just won’t do.
They gave up all and let themselves be bossed.
If she keeps dying they won’t know what’s true.

If she’s legitimate, she’s lost her touch.
She’s left them ere she told them what to be,
and rising twice from death would be too much,
unless it’s just some parlor trickery.

Oh, never mind the poor thing never claimed
she was a god or anything like that.
They feel embarrassed; therefore, she’ll get blamed.
They have the human character down pat.

It’s quite a shame it had to end so soon.
Old One could use a little help right now.
A miracle like that would be a boon
to Tincandom, though they would not know how.

Let us make man: The reason for using this quote becomes apparent shortly. Merrimac avoids holding this up next to the belief in the One True God as some have. “Suppose you believed that people should stop washing away their natural body oils. Would you analyze Ivory Soap to learn whether it’s really 99 and 44/100 percent pure? I doubt that finding more than .56% of non-soapy stuff would persuade anyone to stop bathing. Besides, my purpose is not to dissuade anyone from religion, nor even to make fun of it. I’m just throwing some ideas out for discussion.”
Parlor trickery: So why don’t they simply pretend they saw a miracle and agree on a story to spread? I suspect it’s due to a lack of encouragement from the would-be savior herself. I think he could have developed this contrast with Christianity a little more.
Human character: I believe this is the only place where the author directly compares the carriers to our own species.
Would not know how: Here is the central message of this whole undertaking. Religion is good for humanity, but not in any of the ways it has been made out to be so, and there are important reasons for us not to understand the nature of the relationship. Religion benefits humanity only if we consider humanity as something essentially separate from the individuals comprising it. Merrimac believes he is the first thinker to make this distinction wide enough to see between the two. I think Dawkins and some others have made it that far, but they perhaps weren’t looking through the gap at quite the same angle.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 381-390

“Here’s what we’ll do: We’ll stop and make our camp
and find some fresh disciples in the morn.
The ones we have won’t do to make our stamp.
Their humans know that few are in this borne.

We’ll watch for signals in the newer set.
When one displays its red light we’ll do ours.
They’ll have to give us half, so half we’ll get,
and some will be like you—some pretty flowers.

“I’ll pollinate their pistillated parts.
They’ll be unable to resist this bod.
And you’ll be first among the fallen hearts.
Youl’ll get your due before I spend my wad.

“From that I’ll get my raw materiel,
along with pre-existing empty slates.
I’ll write thereon that the most lasting Hell
is that which blind obedience creates.”

Her bubble burst, poor Esther stood and stared.
It seemed to her that everything had stopped.
She drew a breath, and though extremely scared,
reached downward for the panel she had dropped.

He rolled his eyes and said, “How cute you look,
but soon your arm will tire; you’ll leave it lay.”
She knew she would; he’d read her like a book.
He paused a moment; then he turned away.

Despite her normal youthful lack of sense,
our heroine could still tell right from wrong,
and wrong it was to practice violence
for selfish reasons. No, she must be strong.

Her grip relaxed; her shoulder took the weight.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prayed.
A Christian, she must not be moved by hate.
A judgment based on values must be made.

’Twas momentary anger, she could tell.
His was no crime the law would recognize,
and killing him would sentence her as well.
Plus, now she’d no advantage of surprise.

Besides, her jealousy had no good base.
The skull before her was not hers to break.
The Mission, though, was quite another case.
She had to do it for the Mission’s sake.

The Mission’s sake: So Ciral thought he understood how culturgens influenced people’s behavior, but having grown up in a culture that lacked powerful beliefs, he didn’t grasp how strong that influence could be. Merrimac chose not to develop this theme, preferring instead to hit us on the head with it, as it were,

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 345-349

As he had ordered, so did she obey,
and when he motioned her to take the helm,
she did so, finding to her deep dismay
that even wordless, he could overwhelm.

While Esther kept the course they had begun,
an interval less lengthy than it seemed,
she watched as Ciral’s outlook came undone,
enchanted by the way his forehead gleamed.

When he at last looked up, the gleam had moved
into his eyes, and brightly he declared,
“Again I thank you, Esther, you’ve improved
the quarry that you thought you’d snared.

“I’m human, and I shall no more pretend
that I’m not subject to an inner tide.
It’s part of me, not something I can end
the way I waved away my weaker side.”

Another riddle. This time Esther guessed:
“So you’ll receive the Lord into your heart?
You’re ready, just like that, to be so blest?”
She was ecstatic—this would be her start.

His laugh, though gentle, slipped between her ribs.
“Although I know why God is held so dear,
I can’t believe what I know to be fibs.
I shan’t pretend. Did I not make that clear?

“Your way of thinking wants to replicate.
As well mine does, and I’ll no longer fight
my nature. To be like you is my fate.
This, strangely, is more powerful than spite.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 369-373

We need to cut this simple girl some slack.
Her teasing in all likelihood was meant
to throw her adversary off the track
so she could have more say which way they went.

To us, it’s obvious that would provoke
someone like Ciral into something rash.
Plus, there was the denial thing she spoke.
Again, his face showed an internal clash.

A finger at each temple, eyes near shut,
he sharply shook his head to cut her off,
then whispered “Tell those things to follow, but
say nothing else until I’m through this trough.”

She felt the muscles in her chest constrict.
She thought of trying to retract the dare.
It would have mattered not. Something had clicked
when she had said he was within compare.

The situation had become so tense,
and Ciral so mysterious, so weird,
had she had hope of gaining influence
by charm or insult, it had disappeared.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 365-368

“The question is ‘Why should I?’” he rejoined.
“Oh, I can see the urge to proselytize.
A clever phrase is worthless when it’s coined.
It gets its value when it multiplies.

“Like evolution, that procedure needs
something to function as its medium.
I shan’t go into genotypes and seeds.
Let’s just say the arrangement knows my thumb.”

“I’m sensing some resentment in your tone.
Are you perhaps reacting to the pull
by planting yourself firmly in a zone
where portions of your nature now are null?

“Or is it that you’re stretching things a bit?
Do you, in truth, expect me to accept
your word that you can make all persons quit
producing kids? I think you’ve overstepped.”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 361-364

“I guess you could say it’s a handicap
possessing total objectivity.
You normals are protected by the crap
that filters much of what you hear and see.

“As much as I enjoy this potency,
and really don’t consider it a fault,
it’s scary to imagine more like me.
We’d bring the human species to a halt.

“That will not ever happen; don’t you fret.
I’ve no desire to spread this little germ.
Your people may continue to beget
more carriers of genes (excuse the term).”

“Why not?” asked Esther. “You have worked so hard
to make this. Now it’s out the window thrown?”
She knew that she was letting down her guard
by letting Ciral’s schemes become her own.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 351-360

By this time he was thoughtful and subdued.
Then suddenly he raised a single brow.
“Enough of my world. You must think me rude.
Let’s talk about life on the inside now.”

“It’s not like that at all; we don’t feel trapped.”
She was unsure of how much to reveal.
She had no secrets, but this guy was apt
to bend her words to fit his crazy spiel.

“We live for God; our hope lies in his grace.
And after that, the Mission,” she explained.
“If we must go, it’s to a better place.
As chosen ones, our rank is preordained.”

When asked how she was chosen, and by whom,
she said her ancestors had volunteered.
“The tubes, however, had but little room.
The founders picked them as the comet neared.”

“This mission that you mentioned—what’s the scoop?
These founders must have forked out lots of cash
just to provide your forebears with a coop.
There wasn’t that much warning of the crash.”

“Society gave them the wherewithal
to start the Mission, and they could predict
that something bad would come—if not that ball,
God’s punishment would have been just as strict.

“The Mission is the reason we’re confined.
The goal was not to save our mortal blood.
The founders were among those left behind
when these arks disappeared beneath the flood.

“We have been charged with keeping lit the flame
of Western culture, that it may be spread
when Earth is ready. That’s our Mission’s aim.
For that the carriers and we were bred.

“The founders by their sacrifice inspired
each generation afterward to keep
the wisdom from the one before acquired.
It will be ready when we make the leap.

“Is it not you who cannot comprehend
a meaning much beyond your puny soul?
With no philosophy that can transcend your skin,
how can you question any others’ goal?”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 350-356

“More than a clue I claim, and more than close.
You see, that knowledge gap is self-imposed.
It’s really an addiction; the first dose
is given early; then your mind is closed.

“No matter what the culture, minds are weak.
The inability to question rules,
except where I grew up, and that’s a freak.
That works because those folks are total fools.

“Okay, that’s not quite true: I was conceived
because my mother’s options had no range.
With very valid reason, she believed
expiry was the only type of change.

“But then she and her daughter with me fled.
If they had stayed, they would have had more still.
The women of that place are worse than dead
if they attempt to exercise their will.

“By now, some others will have learned to fly.
They’ve learned they can avoid the risk and pain.
To leave is risky, too, I shan’t deny—
perhaps the like of that if they remain.

“The men, to keep their breeding pool intact,
will have tried very keenly to persuade
the women to stay home, and by this act,
those more persuadable are those who’ve stayed.

“A selfish, independent woman might
survive a lengthy time out in the wild,
or she might last no more than overnight,
but either way, she’ll never have a child.”

Breeding pool: Why would the men care about the breeding pool? At this level, aren’t we just talking about sex?

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 345-349

His smile spread out. “You’re puzzled, for you can’t
allow yourself to see what’s manifest.
Like humans all through time, you need to chant
a mantra that must not be put to test.

“This contradiction had to be instilled
before your infant mind learned how to think,
for if it hadn’t, you would see what spilled,
and you would never tolerate the stink.

“Your children will be selfish as they’re born.
They’ll stay that way until made otherwise.
They’ll learn real soon they can’t have all the corn.
It’s part of what we call ‘to socialize’.

“All higher animals will do that much.
They show their offspring limits to their reach.
We humans have to add an extra touch.
Now I know why. Dear Esther, you’re a peach!”

That fuzzy, fleshy fruit, while flattered, felt
herself disturbed by what he said he knew.
“God lets you see no cards but what you’re dealt.
You come too close to claiming you’ve a clue.”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 339-344

The look he gave her now was so intense,
she wondered if her nose had multiplied.
She thought she really ought to take offense,
but Ciral said “Go on,” and she complied.

“Well, don’t you see? Our god created us,
while they invented theirs to fill a need.
The carriers with faith produced more, thus
their deity’s success was guaranteed.”

“I almost have it.” She could hear the strain
and see the signs of struggle in his face.
His lips were in a laugh; his eyes showed pain.
Of all emotions he’d at least a trace.

“I’ll twist your answer, Esther, so it fits
the question after which it would belong.
You cannot ask that question with your wits
kept weak by what they need to keep them strong.

You’ve inadvertently produced a gem.
You’ve written what you don’t know how to spell.
By telling how you’re different from them,
you’ve drawn a most important parallel.”

“I hope you aren’t attempting to impress
me with your little riddles,” said the girl.
“If so, I’m sure you won’t have much success
until you learn to talk without that curl.”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 335-338

“They think we’re God!” he shouted. “Holy cow!
I’ve gone from punching bag to Heaven’s king!
There’s no way anyone can stop us now.
Let’s give those orders and start conquering!

“Hey, wait a minute: Did you not deny
these things have human ethics? Who’s this One?
Does not religion indicate a tie?
This daughter—is she like Jehovah’s son?”

“That’s blasphemy! If you persist, you’ll roast!
And even if your faith is not in Christ,
I’ll thank you to respect that of your host.
Your talk is rude, no matter how it’s sliced.

“Now here’s your answer: Yes, they have a god.
They made one up to help them standardize
their pattern of response. They need a prod
to reinforce good habits, you realize.”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 331-334

“Your brutes are still behind us,” he observed,
“and signaling to others we’ll soon meet.
You see them up there where the road is curved?
Can you interpret them, but stay discrete?”

Desiring not to validate his fear,
but certain that their motives were benign,
she flipped a switch to make a screen appear
that showed their talk in alphabetic sign.

“One’s daughter, please acknowledge,” they both read,
their voices slow and quiet as in prayer.
Then he deferred to her, and Esther said,
“Give us instructions, that we may prepare.

“Though we be mortals, who when dead
stay dead, and you are risen, all aware,
we worship you and humbly think our stead
entitles us to some small data share.”

Esther said: Reading the translation of the communications from the other carriers.
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 327-330

“My sister,” Ciral interjected, “chose
to be inactive over to be hurt.
From what you’ve said, an artificial rose
would smell the same as something grown in dirt.”

“Oh, yeah? Then fill your nostrils up with this:
Not all the carriers were self-inclined,
or not to the extent they’d be remiss
in making living space for humankind.

“And this is where the learning part comes in:
The parents brewed the tea the youngsters drank.
They’re of the group that thought it was a sin
to give self-interest a higher rank.

“There lies the difference: Their moral law
is ever-changing; ours is absolute.
Ours is the light of God that Moses saw,
while theirs is still the ethics of a brute.”

Inactive: I’m going with celibate on this one.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 320-326

They turned onto the road and Ciral frowned.
“We’re being followed by my customers.”
Until then Esther had not looked around,
as was the practice of the insiders.

“Unless we’re mating, we have no concern
with other tubes,” she said, but stopping short.
“Forgive me, Mr. C, for sounding stern.
I must remember you’re not of our sort.”

“So even if you think you are pursued
by enemy machines you won’t respond?
Are you aware that they think we intrude?
Of tubes with pound signs they aren’t very fond.”

“You obviously know not what they are,
or are not, rather, for they are not we.
Only we sinners take a grudge that far.
A robot does not have that tendency.

“You talk as though they have their own desires.
They can’t; they only want what they were told.
We’ve given them the basis in their wires.
There’s not much variation from the mold.

“They’re made to learn, and learning can impart
a change in outlook; that much I’ll concede.
The motives they were given at the start
adapt to meet each situation’s need.

“I’ll give you an example,” and she gave
a story that was old yet plausible.
She told of carriers that tried to save
themselves by playing tricks when they were full.

When they were full: See the early part of Canto II, especially the 56 and 541 narratives. When the carriers learned how reproduction was taking place and how dangerous it was to the participants, some of them tried various ruses to defeat it.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 315-319

And then she thought to ask the six four K:
“Sir, what are your intentions, if you please?”
All right, so what exactly did she say?
I wouldn’t know; I don’t speak Insidese.

“I’d like to take this rascal for a jaunt
while I become a super-hominid,
and then my spirit will return to haunt
those who would kill me, and who nearly did.”

He sounded less like Heaven’s messenger
and more like one who might have upward passed,
yet Ciral somehow still excited her.
No wonder, is it? She’d but to contrast.

By this time they were at the highway’s edge,
and Esther had to laugh at Ciral’s eyes,
for not unlike a baby bird in fledge,
he exercised new limbs with some surprise.

“Be quiet, girl; I need to concentrate.”
He couldn’t take the ridicule in stride.
She knew a weakness now, at any rate.
With prudence, she could prey upon his pride.

6 4 K: The $64,000 Question was an early television quiz show whose title came to mean the most important of a series of questions.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 309-314

And so as soon as she’d removed the screws,
she dropped the panel just within her reach,
but out of his, as one with naught to lose
might leave a rowboat hidden by the beach.

With that in mind, she made the little snip
and others. Here a tighten, there a splice,
and then they were in motion. Get a grip!
Recover balance! This was not so nice.

“It’s dark,” he said, as he switched on the spots.
The day returned by quadrants all around.
She had to look, though knowing she’d see lots
of damaged corpses strewn about the ground

The smoke was clearing now, and nearby knelt
some half a dozen tubes. They had reclaimed
the humans from her ship, and Esther felt
relief, regret, and something yet unnamed.

Her relatives were safe; for that thank God,
but Esther could have joined them had she known.
And more than death, that they now lived abroad
increased her sense of being all alone.

Now she had Ciral, whom she could not lose.
Someone like this would not again appear,
so when he said again that she could choose,
she gave up them and then for him and here.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 301-308

Once in the cockpit, she confessed her lack:
“It’s never been my job to run this craft.
There is no way to bring the pilots back.
So will you drive this thing yourself?” she laughed.

He emptied on the floor a bag of tools
and handed her a crude screwdriver blade.
“Don’t be too sure you’re following the rules
unless you know what game is being played.”

He pointed to a panel on the wall.
“Remove that piece and cut the yellow wire.”
She asked him for a scissors or an awl,
but got instead a sideways-cutting plier.

She’d wanted something sharper for defense,
for she was certain that he would attack.
The screwdriver—but he had too much sense.
As soon as she was done he took it back.

The panel—she could use it as a club,
but she would have to do it in advance.
And that eraser could give her a rub.
Until he struck, she wouldn’t take that chance.

And ere that happened, how could she be right?
Aware not what he’d done nor might yet do,
for all she knew, God might have seen her plight
and sent an angel down to see her through.

Unlikely? Sure. Romantic? Oh, you bet.
And though he didn’t look the dashing prince,
he blew away what she had thought she’d get.
It didn’t take much charming to convince.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 295-300

As one who woos, however, he would wait,
while as a mortal threat he blocked the door.
And then the man who now controlled her fate
said “Toto! We’re not Outside any more!”

He could have done her any sort of harm,
and, though she’d never seen the likes of him,
she was surprised to hear his voice turn warm.
“No time to waste; let’s get those pants on, Slim.

“You have a choice: to go and join your friends,
or, if you like, to stay and help me drive.
The former finds you free, but there it ends.
The latter—well, at least you’re left alive.”

She marveled at how calmly he could speak
concerning people’s violent demise,
for she lived in a world where to be meek
was to be normal, even for the guys.

“Please turn your head,” she asked, and he complied—
another sign that he was not a brute.
“There must be culture left on the outside,”
thought Esther as she buttoned up her suit.

He stepped aside and let her walk ahead,
both conscious of the placement of her boots.
She made her choice known not by what she said,
but rather by retracting all the chutes.

Not a brute: Since we are not getting this from C's viewpoint, we are left to presume the influence of Darna as an explanation for this noble behavior. Otherwise, it’s difficult to imagine a man of Ciral’s upbringing not taking advantage of this situation.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 287-292

With nothing to look forward to alone,
she had mixed feelings when she saw a face.
He wasn’t one of what she’d call her own,
though she did not belong to any race.

I haven’t touched on that: Was Ciral white?
I picture him with features much like mine.
In multi-choice, though, choice ‘E’ would be right.
You’re welcome to replace my face with thine.

Or Esther, if you’re of the fairer sex.
Her forebears might have dreaded the same Hell,
but nobody ran ethnic background checks,
so she was All of the Above as well.

The young man who around the bulkhead peered
was not completely strange, then, to her eyes.
The long and unkempt hair seemed rather weird,
as did the dirt and ragged leather guise.

Behind the dirt, the skin was rather dark.
Behind the leather, it was pretty tough.
Despite the wicked grin she felt a spark.
If cleaned and clothed, he might be half enough.

As one who woos, however, he would wait,
while as a mortal threat he blocked the door.
And then the man who now controlled her fate
said “Toto! We’re not Outside any more!”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 283-286

*****************************
Chapter 3
Esther
*****************************


If Esther had not panicked, she’d have run.
Had she not had to go, she would have gone.
Had she not been embarrassed, then someone
would not have found her sitting on the john.

Is this the true insider whom we sought?
This pale, defenseless, frightened, teenaged thing?
Had centuries of close confinement brought
our race to this (or is it will they bring)?

Was she a good example of her kind?
At this point it is difficult to tell.
Just think of it as though you’ve long been blind,
and now you find your guide dog can’t see well.

In one sense she was representative:
She had no kind, or rather it was she.
She had no hope, as long as she might live,
that ever she’d rejoin humanity.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 279-284

The lower door had been a cargo hatch,
ingesting and regurgitating bags
with little numerals that one might match
(if one was lucky) with one’s claim check tags.

The occupants now permanent, this door
allowed the entry of necessities
and exit of what could be used no more,
like human waste and stuff that makes one sneeze.

His first time in, with Seven Six’s wreck,
he’d gone in also through the cargo hold.
He’d felt a thrill when he had reached the deck,
but this was platinum if that was gold.

Though he’d grown up near where these creatures ranged,
he was no more of them than of the birds.
So once he was inside, had he been changed?
By this did he switch sides, in other words?

It would be nice if we could introduce
an insider with Ciral to compare:
someone who’d never been, like he was, loose—
someone who, unlike he lived, lived in there.

Unfortunately, he had smoked them out,
so they were unavailable to speak,
and while there were more carriers about,
to look at them would make our story weak.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 275-278

He knew that he was plotting to betray
his trading partners, who had placed their trust
in laws of commerce, which he would obey,
but violate those standards now he must.

As luck would have it, though, he got to choose
a carrier that bore a different mark:
an envoy, or a tourist on a cruise.
He set his trap and poised to strike a spark.

The carriers would kneel down on command
if someone with a finger on the switch
would push the right way with the other hand.
It didn’t matter much which hand was which.

The safety exits worked as you’d expect
from something that was once a fuselage.
The vessel’s crew were eager to eject,
not knowing ’twas an act of sabotage.


©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 270-274

I haven’t, since he cut the women loose,
discussed his plan. Well, here’s a little hint:
He brought some rope with which to make a noose.
To start a fire, he brought a piece of flint.

The trading post lay halfway in between
the compound and the city limit line,
though nothing of the limit could be seen.
Corrosion long ago had claimed the sign.

The spot he chose had been a narrow street
that separated two old factories,
and if I’m ever wanting of a cleat,
a piece of rusted rebar, if you please.

His length of rope would reach three times across,
with slack enough to leave room for a knot.
Like fingers in a strand of dental floss,
the rope and leg would be bound at that spot.

As soon as sundown’s rays imbued the sky,
he gathered up some branches, leaves, and grass,
preferring green and dewy over dry.
Less flame that way, and more repulsive gas.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 265-269

If nothing else, these musings occupied
our hero as he readied Seven Six
for her role in the coming homicide—
a part he’d recently put in the mix.

They helped distract his mind away from grief,
the journey being lonely to the town
where he had gone in old days with his chief
to pick up food and lay transistors down.

He’d never learned how, long ere he was born,
the ancestors of Darna first took in
what carriers would take in trade for corn,
and how communications could begin.

At first, presumably, they’d merely dealt
with humans, who would understand their need.
The carriers would copy those who dwelt
within their bellies when they would succeed.

What mattered to him when he first passed through
was that the traders did, in fact, transact.
This time the place had one main feature, too:
Its carriers were ripe to be attacked.

Her role: We never learn what part 76 was to play, as the curtain comes down before she is ever called to the stage.
They’d: The antecedent for this pronoun has to be the ancestors of Darna.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 258-264

He found that he could reconcile this need
with her insistence on the search for gain
if he imagined that it were a seed
that lived and reproduced within her brain.

This thing was planted when she was a girl.
From someone else’s mind it made the leap.
She’d cut the leaves off as they would unfurl,
but never found the root that grew so deep.

It was more complicated than that, sure.
It manifested itself other ways.
It wasn’t quite a life form—not that pure—
more like a symbiosis, but with strays.

The basic urge, which he called ‘Species A’—
the need one feels to have a legacy—
would lie in wait for gods to whom to pray,
and thus would find a partner: ‘Species B’.

A neat Darwinian scenario.
A mutual assistance textbook case.
But what environment would let this grow?
What of the species that supplies the space?

Did human genes, at some point way back when,
enjoy some benefit when they’d allow
these creatures to invade the minds of men?
If he could answer that, he’d answer how.

Much like a portrait of a looking glass,
the question was within itself contained.
An artist often reaches an impasse
and paints the way self-knowledge is constrained.

The search for gain: Again, the Objectivists’ regard of rational self-interest as a higher good.
Mutual assistance: What we called symbiosis in biology class.
Constrained: Lack of perspective.

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac