In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 218-239

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 200-217

I wish as much as you we could ignore
these violations of our moral laws,
but how can we deny what came before?
What came to be thereafter had a cause.

And universal though these laws might seem,
as constant in our world as they may be,
we must remember: ’Tis not we who deem
what’s right and wrong outside our history.

The code with which these characters were raised
was well adapted to its circumstance.
If they could see our rules, they’d be amazed.
That we have ours and they have theirs is chance.

What of that book in which she was immersed?
Does it not limit with whom one may lie?
Well, yes, but she had yet to be so versed.
We learn that after how to multiply.

One day she will discover to her shame
that she abominated by the law,
but she’ll be where a father has no name.
No Compounder will ask her who’s the pa.

Her neighbors who have not been changed won’t care.
Her daughters will have near as much to hide.
The witness to her sin will be elsewhere,
for with them he did not for long abide.

’Twas shortly after he became a dad
that he took the decision to move on.
The extra work involved was not so bad,
but in a way it was due to the spawn.

It seems he noticed that he would resent
the women teaching scripture to the child.
It had been an annoyance; now it meant
that he would be more thoroughly exiled.

He could have pushed on her what he believed,
but he had not a system to compete.
He understood what dogma had achieved.
He understood what he could not defeat.

What bothered him, though, more than helplessness
was that it even bothered him at all.
He thought he’d gotten rid of all that mess
(of which he hadn’t much, you may recall).

So now he knew why reason didn’t work:
It could not reproduce as well as myth.
A missing link, however, still would lurk
until he had an origin therewith.

He knew then it was time they should return.
The women had replenishing to do,
and he had other pieces yet to learn.
He’d gotten what he needed from those two.

He figured he could get them to accept
the passage home if it would serve their Lord.
They’d find some likely targets once they stepped
into the compound with their ghostly sword.

And he was curious, I have to add,
about how well their mission would perform.
He had an inkling what was good and bad.
He’d live and die, whichever was the norm.

“Tis true: the truth to you is what you read.
The Father and the Son again exist.
It must be so; they live inside your head.
They’ll die with you, though, if you don’t assist.”

“Dear boy, you misinterpret what I meant.
The truth does not depend on what one thinks.
Our minds can but absorb and represent
by correlating and discerning links.”

“That’s as it should be, and it’s to the good
that what you know will always be the same.
Now you and Noria must cross the wood
to whence we started when we hither came.

“When I return your way, I’ll stop to check
on whether you have saved the compound’s soul,
and meanwhile I’ll get started on my trek.
I’ve long delayed my overriding goal.”

“But Ciral, you have that which obligates:
a mother and two sisters to protect.
Or would we be a daughter and two mates?
We’ll be what you prefer to be correct.”

“Familial guilt, dear Mother, won’t weigh hard
on someone who accepts no moral code
and who had very little to discard
when he discovered how to shed that load.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t feel attached
to those with whom you spent your early years?
I would remind you: You were born, not hatched,
and human nature never disappears.

“And don’t you think of she who bears your genes?
Besides the great beyond at which you scoff,
you are immortal. That’s what Baby means:
your life that will go on when you go off.”


Has no name: Remember, in the compound the concept of a nuclear family had long been forgotten., and nobody cared about paternity. Someone seems to have overlooked, however, how mothers could also be nameless.
Near as much to hide: That is, a mutual interest in keeping a lid on the story, even should anyone be interested in it.
All that mess: If Ciral, who possessed no belief system worth mentioning, couldn’t let go of the compulsion to impose a belief system on the next generation, the compulsion itself must exist independently of the system. It would have to be an intrinsic part of human nature. This is an important point.
‘Tis true: Do you get the feeling we just entered in the middle of a conversation?
As it should be: He sees no point in arguing with her, especially as he is trying to use her faith to his advantage.
Compound’s soul: At first I took this as sarcasm, but on second reading I thought maybe he was genuinely curious about how successful they would be in spreading the word.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 200-217

She should have seen before, and now she saw,
that Ciral wanted to be given heed,
and she, by playing on this little flaw,
persuaded him to teach her how to read.

Now I cannot remember my first books.
In my day, ’twas most likely Dick and Jane.
I have no doubt, though, that those words had hooks.
I’m guided by the message they contain.

Such was the case, I’m sure, with Ciral’s ma,
as she put printed symbols into sounds,
and sounds to words, then sentences, aha!
And context is the meaning that surrounds.

What with this joy did she associate?
What stories, jokes, or poems did she try?
O, no such luck for this one; ’twas her fate
to be prepared in case someone should die.

Well, actually, before the final rite,
she learned the first and all those in between,
and like a happy child, she would recite
the lines each day as part of her routine.

Pronouncing words, while doing her no harm,
left all her ceremonies incomplete.
No one was born, and no one bought the farm.
No one accomplished an important feat.

Now, in her mind a marriage would consist
of man and woman iterating vows.
What happened after that, she must have missed.
She didn’t comprehend the why’s and how’s.

Oh, Ciral knew, but he concealed his smirk
when she recruited him to be the groom.
Although he’d have to take some time off work,
he’d have a joke by asking for a room.

And look at Noria, the lovely bride!
Had she known what, she surely would have blushed.
She knew that she was at her brother’s side.
She felt no tingle as their faces brushed.

The prankster savored waiting to reveal
the monster they’d created when they kissed,
but what he hadn’t figured in the deal
was next upon his student’s reading list.

When God commanded Adam to bear fruit
(assuming this is something we believe),
it wouldn’t have worked out had he said “Shoot,
we can’t do this; you share a rib with Eve.”

And who was there to marry Cain and Seth?
Should they have taken what they had to take?
Or should the line have ended with their death?
What if you had your legacy at stake?

The current patriarch cared not a whit
how many generations might succeed,
but he had been so long without, um, ‘it’,
the future of the race seemed guaranteed.

A less than eager daughter was convinced;
the marital bedchamber was prepared;
some perfumes were applied; some hair was rinsed.
Someone was ready; someone else was scared.

Now Ciral didn’t fret about incest,
but knew he shouldn’t move against her will,
and since he lacked romantic interest,
he didn’t try to sugarcoat the pill.

He gently helped her back into her dress.
He turned her to the door and slapped her buns.
She found her mother reading—you might guess:
the priceless tale of Judah’s wayward sons.

“He what?” the would-be grandma cried. “Oh my!”—
quite sure that he would cause the spill of doom.
And that, folks, was precisely why the guy
had quickly cleared his sister from the room.

But Ciral’s mother burst in just in time,
as he was ready to complete the thought.
She stopped him from committing Onan’s crime
by playing in reverse the role of Lot.

Reading list: I think this means Ciral’s mother had started reading the Old Testament.
Onan’s crime: Genesis 38:7-10.
Lot: Genesis 19:29-38.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 195-199

Poor Ciral, with his aforementioned needs,
reverted to the outlet of his youth.
Don’t ask me to describe the hidden deeds.
As much as possible, let’s keep this couth.

He tried to put his energy to use
until some clear and definite event
might happen that would be a good excuse
to go back to his lover with consent.

His trade, I said, before he made this move
would sometimes take him near the city’s edge.
With methods he had learned and could improve,
an offshoot of the business made its fledge.

His sister, who had lived under the wing,
had suffered from a lack of exercise.
Now forced to help her brother do his thing,
the girl took on a much more healthy guise.

The mother kept the house, such as it were,
all by herself, and once when she was bored
she found a box that interested her.
Inside it was a literary hoard.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 187-194

*****************************
Chapter 2
Noria
*****************************


So Ciral came back to the refugees
with some provisions and the joyous news
that to the best of his abilities
he’d take them to a place where they could choose.

A landing he’d constructed in a tree
for practicing his acrobatic skills
was ample sleeping surface for the three
the first night; then they headed for the hills.

The second day they found a house of stone
in which they slept while keeping watch by turns.
’Twas decent shelter, but it stood alone.
With tubes about, they’d have to watch their sterns.

They wanted something similarly built
but in a place that giants would avoid.
The carriers would let him ply his trade,
but humans unannounced might be destroyed.

The city near the mall was built of wood,
and through the years no-one had made repairs.
The few pathetic structures that still stood
had long been deemed unusable as lairs.

Just down the river lay a bigger town
whose outskirts Ciral on his rounds would reach.
Its skyscrapers had mostly fallen down—
a barrier the robots could not breach.

Amid this broken mass they found a church
with granite walls sufficiently tall
that they could build a platform for a perch
on which the trio now could safely sprawl.

Within a week they had themselves a house,
complete with roofing and a swinging door.
Not quite like home, though—no one had a spouse,
nor what they’d known as substitutes therefor.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 160-186

I find myself drawn back into this thing. I stopped posting hither about six weeks ago because the "hit counter" that Jeff set up told me very few people were following the story. Noemi thinks this is because people don't want to read just a few stanzas at a time. She tried to convince me to post the remainder of the canto all at once. I objected to that on the grounds that I would soon exhaust my material. Well, it has been a while, and I suppose I can compromise. The third canto is broken into chapters, and we have 27 stanzas left of the first chapter. Here they are:

Remember when our hero made that pledge
to help if needed by his mom and sis?
I’ll bet that left you sitting on the edge.
You wouldn’t think, “Well, that’s the end of this.”

I wouldn’t risk offending you, old chum,
by pointing out what you have left unsaid.
So I’ll assume you figured they would come,
and thus you knew the answer way ahead.

He saw them from his perch up in a tree
while pausing for his breath after a climb.
He paused some more to make sure they could see,
then shimmied down the rope, taking his time.

As he approached, the women simply stood
like they were held by something out of sight.
They seemed no more excited than they would
had they been he, and he showed no delight.

Their debtor walked as slowly as he could
to where they waited, as some watchers will.
“You silly girls,” he smirked, “don’t you look good.
How long have you been standing there so still?”

“A little more respect will do just fine,”
his mother scolded him ere she replied:
“We’ve been here since our shadows made this line
two days ago—too long to be outside.”

“We weren’t so still as that,” his sister chimed.
“We had to move to keep the rats away.
And your arrival could be better timed.
Our food and water ran out yesterday.”

“Oh, this is where I said that I would be?
I could have sworn I told you on the mound.
It’s my fault, then, you waited hungrily
where there was sure to be no one around.”

“You knew we wouldn’t venture near that thing,”
said Noria, now speaking carefully.
“It must have been so very comforting
to picture our surprise at what we’d see.”

A year before, his heart would have been stung
to hear himself in such a way accused,
but now he could ignore the girl’s sharp tongue.
He had learned how to find himself amused.

“I overcame that fear; why couldn’t you?
Your motive was at least as strong as mine,
and we share genes,” and all of this was true.
He’d thought them produce of a common vine.

His mother said, “We need your help, young male.
We can’t stay at the compound any more.
Your sister can’t have children; she’s too frail,
and I can’t keep the menfolk from her door.”

“Well, she is sickly, that I can’t dispute.
To bear a child will be the end of her,
and skinny things like her are seen as cute.
But that’s a part of life, are we not sure?”

“Where we have lived, that’s certainly the case.
My sister died that way, you may recall,
but if you take us to another place
then Noria’s demise we might forestall.”

“Come, Mother, even if you could survive,
and if you had a notion where to start,
I don’t see how you’d possibly arrive
at that fantastic onus on my part.”

“But look at this: How can I be so rude?
You must be nearly into hunger’s throes.
Wait here—I’ll bring some water and some food
and then decide how with you to dispose.”

Once in the tube, he told its denizen
about the relatives who came to call,
about the reason they had left the pen
and the trap into which he did not fall.

He told this as the joke it seemed to him,
expecting her to see it as the same,
but she looked serious—nay, she looked grim.
She chanted slowly, softly Ciral’s name.

She went on thus, composing her response,
then came alive as she delivered it:
“A man who takes by force that which he wants
has marked himself as morally unfit.”

“So I should punish those who pose this threat?
That’s nearly every man within that fence!
And what has made you suddenly upset?
You look disturbed and make but little sense.”

He voiced his fervent hope with rising stress,
as though the whole idea had come from her,
but Darna stepped around his crude finesse
and answered with a semi-sequitur.

“You can forget the nitwits down below.
I’m asking you to take a moral stance.
I’m thinking that it’s time for you to go.
I’m recommending that you take this chance.

“It was your word of honor that you gave.
You did not know the consequences then.
Now, finding out, you cannot simply waive
your standing in the world of honest men.”

He wanted to remind her that he could.
His world had but one man of any sort.
But he knew she knew that he understood,
and her intense demeanor cut him short.

“This way your second journey now begins.
You’ve fruit to gather from another tree.
You’ll know when you’ve forgiven your own sins
that you are ready to return to me.”

She would not answer when he asked her why
she suddenly desired that he depart
or by what logic he must rectify
a situation that he did not start.

Nor would she tell him what transgressive acts
demanded that he self-exonerate.
At last he lost all hope of getting facts.
He’d solve the riddle at a later date.

Fervent hope: Ciral saw this as an opportunity to obtain Darna’s blessing for his plan to attack the compound.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 153-159

While Darna knew that Ciral was obsessed,
she mostly was inclined to let it slide.
She too was rather quick to be impressed,
and Ciral never mentioned homicide.

I’m sure she wondered why he liked to weave
and to experiment with sorts of rope.
She never followed him, though, when he’d leave,
nor asked him what he did along the slope.

But did he ask himself, do you suppose,
or did he just conveniently forget
about the presence, there among his foes,
of those to whom he owed a vital debt?

Might he have reasoned that a rendered deed
without a contract merits no response?
While possible that Darna had decreed
that to be true, let’s leave it for the nonce.

As well the likelihood that he had cut
what loyalty he’d shown toward his kin.
He’d learned why he should lose those feelings, but
it took some time for all that to sink in.

Yes, he had a vindictive attitude,
but given who he was, I think we’ll find
at first, at least, his list did not include
all seven dozen souls he left behind.

I think his plan, though based on blanket hate,
had a provision for his family.
Before he changed his mind about their fate,
the process was in place to set them free.

While possible: Possible, but unlikely. Legally this may be true, but I’ve seen no indication that Objectivists deny a moral obligation to repay that kind of favor.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

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