Spirituality and Saltines (I'd tell you now that it is long, but I'm afraid you'd never click) (779 hits)
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Submitted by T.chow <trcose.at.wisc.edu> (View user info) at 2004-12-17 10:10:19 EST
Dearest reader, I ask you now to suspend your disbelief. It is a rather silly thing anyhow: literary disbelief: a tool for the apathetic or complacent. I have never understood how one could deny that which clearly takes place before them in black and white, as they read? This said, though, my story will only go so far as you will allow. Stop now, and it will cease to be. But go on and it will last forever; for that is the nature of such things. Just think of this as a product of the proverbial million monkeys atype at their million cosmic typewriters and you should be alright. Far be it from me to claim this is Shakespeare, but far be it from the monkeys to know what is worth keeping and what is not; that is up to us:
***
There is a place (you have not been there). This place is very full of what you might like to call rocks and earth, and plants and animals, and mountains and rivers and clouds. That is to say this is a normal place such as you might sometime come upon if you were inclined to wander looking for such places. And if you were, you'd surely come upon the townships, which were put there by the people who live in them. And it is precisely the subject of these people of the townships that is so interesting. One person in particular, though, is central to our story; I will introduce him directly:
Gregory Sniple was a man of science, as was readily apparent by the explosion of gray and unkempt hair sprouting from his head, and the thick black glasses idly hanging from his neck. As a man of science, he could afford these slight eccentricities. Gregory Sniple's workshop hunched haphazardly on the edge of his town and emitted all manner of odors, sounds and vapors everyday, all year 'round (as his experiments often required the use of exotic and exceptional ingredients). And it was in this workshop one day that Gregory came to a very important and very scientific Conclusion:
Though a man of science, Gregory had always been fascinated by people: the ways they act, the things they say and do, how they treat one another, and the like. We might call this sociology or psychology and we might say that these are indeed science, but to Gregory it was more than that. To Gregory, it was more akin to religion, but of course he'd never admit it. The fact is, as a man of science, Gregory felt cut off from his town. The rest had a sense of protection and of divine supervision, which Gregory lacked. It was when pondering just this that Gregory had an idea:
"We are like ants," said Gregory to his parrot, Jock.
"Wwrock, ants!" replied Jock.
"Yes, like ants," continued Gregory. "I do not mean in a nihilist or mortalist sense. I mean in our social ways." Gregory went to his bookshelf, searching for something in particular. "What can an ant do alone, hmm? What can one person do alone? Not too very much, right?" Gregory stopped to glance at Jock who returned only a silent and sidewise stare. "No, not very much. And what can ten ants do individually? Still not very much. Ten people? The Same. But what, pray tell, can ten ants do together? Why they could move a leaf, or even a twig couldn't they?!" Gregory grabbed in triumph a dusty old leather-bound from the bookshelf.
"Wwrock, ants?" asked Jock.
"What? No, no, no. Not ants: people! What can ten people do working together? They can build a city; they can cross an ocean. And why is that?" He turned to the parrot. "Well I'll tell you, Jock...it's Synergy!" Gregory passionately slammed the book down on his workbench. It was perhaps harder than he'd have liked, as it kicked up a good cloud of dust and sent his beakers and test tubes shivering. "Synergy, Jock," he continued somewhat more subdued. "A group of people is more than the sum of its parts. And this invisible social margin is what is so extraordinary. Where does it come from, this manifest energy, this spontaneous will? 'Neither matter nor energy can be created or destroyed by conventional methods,'" quoted Gregory from his earliest lessons in the sciences. "That extra something cannot be of our world. It must be supernatural. It must be...divine." Gregory glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, as if afraid someone was listening.
Opening the book he had been ignoring, he leafed through in search of a specific passage. "Look here Jock," Gregory pushed the book to the parrot's beak for him to read. "The Golden Rule, as taught by Jesus, the Buddha, Confucius, Muhammad: 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' It's the perfect social rule and its preachers were all perfect social animals. They support perfectly that Synergy I was talking about by encouraging society to get along. So what do we call that extra something? It is part of everyone, but greater than all. It is all our individual knowledge and ability amplified. Jock, it is something I cannot explain..." Gregory was at a loss for the proper scientific terms. "But 'so what?' you ask." Indeed Jock did look puzzled. "What good are my theories if nothing good comes of them? Well, I'll have you know, I intend to harness this ineffable force because I believe it holds the secrets to paradise, to a place without crime or sickness or hunger. What do you think of that?" Defiantly, and with a gleam in his eye, Gregory Sniple set down the book and waited for Jock to respond to his proposed enterprise.
"Ants!" cried Jock.
"Stupid parrot," muttered the scientist.
***
For several weeks after that conversation Gregory Sniple's workshop glowed and smelled and sounded even more unusual than it usually did, which was certainly unusual. It was clear that he was working very hard on something very extravagant and complicated. Inside, his drawing board illustrated a fractaling of circuit boards, electrodes, antennas and mysterious mechanical apparati, and his floor was strewn with their real-life counterparts. Forty days and forty nights he toiled to leash his intangible phantasm, until at last it was ready. Well, something was ready:
"Jock!" cried Gregory. "Here, Jock!" Despite the bird's limited vocabulary, Jock knew when to speak his mind and when to be silent. "Jock, where are you?" coaxed Gregory, searching casually the nooks and crannies of his workshop. "Okay then, I guess Jock has flown the coop," he announced in loud resignation, "I might as well open the window if he wants to come back in..."
Gregory, with a flourish, opened one of the windows in his workshop and pretended to work at something at his workbench. No sooner was Gregory's back turned than a red and green missile shot from behind the bookshelf towards the opened window. Oh poor Jock: he couldn't see the mesh screen blocking his escape. Jock crashed haplessly into the invisible barrier and tumbled into a panting and rather stunned heap.
"Haha, I say Jock! You are a bit larger than a mosquito, but the screen held fast enough!" cried Gregory. "I've no idea what you are so worried about in any case. This shan't hurt a bit." Gregory gingerly lifted the dazed parrot and drew from behind his back a small vaguely egg-shaped object. One end of the egg opened rather like a helmet might, and in fact this is what it was: a very small helmet for a very small head.
Gregory placed the helmet on Jock's head and strapped it down with the tiniest of chinstraps; all the while Jock struggled weakly and glared at Gregory insultedly. With the helmet secured, Gregory extended a tiny antenna and flipped a switch on the rear. He stepped back and waited.
Jock squatted crossly and parrot-like, turning his head from time to time as if trying to decide which eye was the better to glower with. A light on the helmet flashed intermittently accompanied by a small beep. The look of eager anticipation on Gregory's face turned slowly into an annoyed frown: "That darned neuro diode must be polarized again..." He turned to his drawing board in disgust.
"Wanker." Gregory stopped mid-scribble; he hadn't remembered teaching Jock that word before. I should say now that there really is no need for us to know how Gregory's invention works. But for the curious among you, it worked rather like a normal radio does. This radio, however, plays every station at the same time directly into the mind of the wearer. The stations, as you may have surmised, are really people's thoughts broadcast over what a one Dr. Sniple so aptly termed Synergy. The 'science' behind these bare facts would so dwarf our simple story though, that we won't go into it at all. The fact that it worked is enough for our purpose.
Gregory turned to the parrot and stared dumbfounded for some time at the furious collection of feathers and beak. Finally, perhaps out of shame or some subconscious cliché, he shakily held out a cracker to Jock. Jock, perhaps out of mercy or some inborn reflex, accepted it, nibbling at a corner in at least temporary placation.
Gregory sat in a chair silently waiting for Jock to finish. What had once been a pet became a fearsomely powerful and omniscient supernatural being. He suddenly was reminded of all the times he had neglected to clean Jock's cage.
***
The parrot watched Gregory. Gregory watched the parrot. Finally one of them spoke, but which it was I cannot quite remember: "Has it worked?"
"I feel...different." Jock's first venture into abstract thought was as obtuse as it was surprising, not unlike his first attempts at flight so many years before.
"How'd you...what'd it...oh, dear me...why?" Gregory was lucky he'd never had to learn to fly, though he'd have made a good penguin. As he spoke, he plucked his glasses from around his neck and perched them atop his angular nose, removed them, cleaned them and let them fall back to his chest absentmindedly.
"I feel as though...as though many voices are speaking to me with only one voice...like many birds singing the same song." Though proud of his very first simile, Jock should not be blamed for its corniness.
"Ha, ha! I've done it!" Cried Gregory, pumping his skinny fists in the air, and capering like a triumphant schoolboy. "Synergy, Jock!"
"Synergy! Yes! That is what you called it!" Jock mimicked Gregory's dance with a parrot-jig of his own and a kind of squawky laugh. "But now what do I do?"
"We shall solve the world's problems, Jock! You hold all the knowledge there is to know...plus whatever extra was in that cashew you call a brain." The last part Gregory only thought, as there was no telling what omnipotent parrots are capable of.
"The world has problems? Oh, you mean like hurricanes and earthquakes and things? How can we solve those?" Jock clearly did not grasp what Gregory meant by problems, perhaps there was some meta-static interfering with the helmet's receiver.
"No, no, no. I mean sickness and famine. People problems." Gregory practically drooled as he spoke: "What is the secret to paradise? How does man make the perfect world?"
"Why, those are the same problems I meant!" Jock cluckled.
Gregory scoffed. "They are not! I want to solve Man's problems, not nature's problems! Stop thinking like a parrot for a moment will you?"
"You stop thinking like a person and start thinking like a human!" Jock scolded. "Who's wearing the helmet?" Gregory sat silent. "Well, who's wearing it?" Jock chided.
"You are."
"Thank you," continued Jock. "Now think about it a moment, will you? Man is part of nature isn't he? I seem to remember someone comparing him to ants not too long ago..."
"But..." Gregory interrupted but Jock cut him off.
"Don't interrupt, Greg. Can I call you Greg?" Greg nodded. "Yes well Greg, Man is part of nature and nature is natural. You can deny it for a bit, but nature always wins. You can build an earthquake proof home by making the foundation flexible but soon a hurricane will come along and blow it over. You can build the same house to stand rigidly in strong winds, but it will crack in an earthquake. Do you see my point?"
"What, about houses?" asked Gregory.
"What? No, no, no," Jock sighed. "Not houses: people! People are a natural disaster. They are imperfect by nature."
The words hit Gregory like slap in the face. "Well, we could evolve to be better."
To Gregory's annoyance, Jock suddenly laughed his strange parrot laugh. "Evolution isn't supposed to make you perfect. It's supposed to make you perfectly adapted. The best way to adapt to an imperfect environment is to be imperfect yourself. And Man is. I guess you might say he's perfectly imperfect." The small concession did little to sooth Gregory's injured pride. "Since when does Man live by the Golden Rule? Oh sure, sure, it's a very nice idea and works sometimes. But it would be better said: 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, unless they do to you first, then do as you would.' It is easy to say to yourself you will live justly, but not everyone agrees on what justice is and not everyone cares. Mankind is more than the sum of its parts because the parts do not get along. If everyone were the same John Doe then a bunch of John Doe's would be just a bunch of John Doe's. Synergy would be gone. I would have nothing more to say to you than you would already know." Jock stopped and looked around. "Do you have another of those crackers?" Gregory held out another saltine to Jock with a dazed look of rapt concentration. Jock held it daintily with one of his feet and nibbled at the corner.
"If you made lemonade every time the world gave you lemons, you'd soon have an icebox of lemonade you are too sick of to drink. Man needn't always be perfect. You remember telling me about Jesus, and the 'perfect social animal'? When he found bankers in the temple on the Sabbath did he ask them politely to leave? No, he flipped his wig! He threw them out on their rear ends and overturned their tables. But this doesn't mean he isn't the 'perfect social animal'. No, quite the opposite in fact. He let his natural feelings take control. That is not always the 'just' answer, but nature is not always just; it is just nature." Jock was finished.
Gregory sat for some time pondering what Jock told him. Finally he came to a very important and very scientific Conclusion: "Jock, you stupid parrot, that hat must be broken." He lifted the helmet from Jock's surprised head before he could say a word. "It must be picking up a weak signal. Oh well, it was worth a shot." Instead of trying to fix the helmet though (as Gregory normally would have done, being a man of science and all) he threw it at the open window. The helmet of course bounced off the screen and fell clattering to the floor. Gregory stood awhile in silence, maybe waiting for Jock to say something helpful.
"Wwrock! Ants!" cried Jock.
"Ants." Said Gregory.
***
Now, dear reader, let me take a moment to thank you and to apologize. I thank you for making it so far, though it seems we are back where we have started. I apologize though on behalf of Gregory. It seems he has given up on what he started out to do. But has he really? If all Gregorys heard what Jock had to say would they believe it? Would they want to? Certainly I would not want them to, as I hate to think to have wasted so much of my time in telling their story.
User Reviews
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-07-24 23:20:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-06-21 11:56:40 (#)
Ranking: 2
I clicked on it because it WAS long. Gave me some food for thought...
-----
I remember you.
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-06-21 11:56:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I clicked on it because it WAS long. Gave me some food for thought...
Submitted by Bickerstaff (user info) at 2005-04-14 20:26:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
In Shin Yokohama, I once fought this big Okinowan fucker named Hiromi
who claimed that since mankind was the most glorious of natures creations,
then it follows that all our actions are the most perfect representations
of nature.
He figured that this notion excused the Japanese practice of whale hunting, as
well as a host of other diabolical shit largely considered barbaric.
He tried long form point kicking in the second round, kid; I sent him to the hospital
with a spiral fracture in his femur.
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2005-04-14 19:35:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by kaysee (user info) at 2004-12-17 21:25:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I likes
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2004-12-17 20:10:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
fuck. me.
<shakes head>
shandy has a worthy rival.
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2004-12-17 18:52:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
this is blowing my mind, t.chow
more comments to follow
(note, in case you missed the incredible drama, i'm now the uber bad boy and my ratings don't count)
Submitted by T.chow (user info) at 2004-12-17 16:08:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
thanks.
i'm not ass-kissing; i'm hit-whoring.
Submitted by drfeggphd (user info) at 2004-12-17 15:50:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool. And, yeah, I almost didn't click on it despite the intriguing title, because of the length reference (but I found it ambiguous and/or confusing and/or clever, so I clicked anyway).
I started to write a really stupid comment about how ant colonies are smarter than ants, but since there really is no such thing as an ant colony, ignoring one of them doesn't mean it will get out of your mailbox; fortunately, I decided to type this substitute comment instead.
Submitted by T.chow (user info) at 2004-12-17 13:36:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
damnit ubersite. clearly, i should not have said anything about the length in the title.
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2004-12-17 12:49:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Cheesecake is better.