Today I saw a young boy holding a balloon. He looked about with wandering, unfocused eyes and asked me what color it was. I said to him, “It’s blue.”
Are you ready for the punchline?
It was really red.
But I didn’t have the heart to tell him.
I guess it wasn't very funny after all.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Atlantic Ink
Light.
Breath.
Life.
This is the surface, and it’s been awhile.
“Welcome back Captain.”
I turn to see my first mate floating on a piece of what was once the mast of a great ship- my great ship. Now nothing but scattered wood wondering about the Atlantic. My ship still floats, only now she does so with a little more modesty.
“You’ve been under for three years”, he tells me. “How did the sea treat you?” “Fine”, I reply. After holding my breath for so long I find my voice weak and different than it used to be.
“I watched you sinking with that ship. I watched you fall all the way to the bottom. How did you find your way back”? he asks, as he bobs up and down in the chilly waters.
“A ghost showed me the way”, I remember, “Someone who fell with the ship. Someone I never realized was even on board.” “It’s a good thing”, he says to me, “that she was there to help you.” “Why do you assume it’s a she” I wonder back to him. “Ah, there’s no mistaking the compassion of a woman sir. It’s too pure to be missed.” “Too true” I think. Truly a good heart beats in his chest, that’s why I made him First Mate many years ago. A ship is nothing without a good philosopher. But it’s even less without a good Captain. I guess that’s why my ship is now nothing. I wasn’t good enough. I should have read the charts. I should have watched the compass. I should have seen the fields of jagged rocks waiting to devour my vessel. But alas.
Ah the great god Alas. Always looking down on us. Always mocking our stupid, mortal decisions. He is a terrible god to serve, and yet we try.
My first mate surveys the flat, unstable horizon. “Where does your command take us from here?” he asks. His vote of confidence wakes me from my dream of self pity. I am still Captain and she didn’t save me to die at the surface. “We rebuild the ship and then we go home” I state. “But the sea is our home” he replies. “Then our task will be all the easier” I say, with all the confidence and swagger that a Captain should speak with. And so we go. Rebuilding our ship piece by piece, the same way it was done the first time around only now we do so without the luxury of land. But it bothers us little. We had forsaken earth long ago, for the water is now our element of choice.
Within two months I stand on the deck overlooking the starboard side of my ship as we narrowly escape a rabid storm. It’s anger had chased us for three days, but our ship now has the speed of her old self, with the knowledge and wisdom of a reborn captain. The sharks offer sacrifices and offerings, and the whales below applaud us as we pass. Nothing would stop us now. Not hurricanes, not lightning; Poseidon and Neptune will cry in each others arms. Let them try. Let them fail. Let them shiver at our greatness. So it will go for the ocean belongs to the brave, and we are the bravest of them all.
Breath.
Life.
This is the surface, and it’s been awhile.
“Welcome back Captain.”
I turn to see my first mate floating on a piece of what was once the mast of a great ship- my great ship. Now nothing but scattered wood wondering about the Atlantic. My ship still floats, only now she does so with a little more modesty.
“You’ve been under for three years”, he tells me. “How did the sea treat you?” “Fine”, I reply. After holding my breath for so long I find my voice weak and different than it used to be.
“I watched you sinking with that ship. I watched you fall all the way to the bottom. How did you find your way back”? he asks, as he bobs up and down in the chilly waters.
“A ghost showed me the way”, I remember, “Someone who fell with the ship. Someone I never realized was even on board.” “It’s a good thing”, he says to me, “that she was there to help you.” “Why do you assume it’s a she” I wonder back to him. “Ah, there’s no mistaking the compassion of a woman sir. It’s too pure to be missed.” “Too true” I think. Truly a good heart beats in his chest, that’s why I made him First Mate many years ago. A ship is nothing without a good philosopher. But it’s even less without a good Captain. I guess that’s why my ship is now nothing. I wasn’t good enough. I should have read the charts. I should have watched the compass. I should have seen the fields of jagged rocks waiting to devour my vessel. But alas.
Ah the great god Alas. Always looking down on us. Always mocking our stupid, mortal decisions. He is a terrible god to serve, and yet we try.
My first mate surveys the flat, unstable horizon. “Where does your command take us from here?” he asks. His vote of confidence wakes me from my dream of self pity. I am still Captain and she didn’t save me to die at the surface. “We rebuild the ship and then we go home” I state. “But the sea is our home” he replies. “Then our task will be all the easier” I say, with all the confidence and swagger that a Captain should speak with. And so we go. Rebuilding our ship piece by piece, the same way it was done the first time around only now we do so without the luxury of land. But it bothers us little. We had forsaken earth long ago, for the water is now our element of choice.
Within two months I stand on the deck overlooking the starboard side of my ship as we narrowly escape a rabid storm. It’s anger had chased us for three days, but our ship now has the speed of her old self, with the knowledge and wisdom of a reborn captain. The sharks offer sacrifices and offerings, and the whales below applaud us as we pass. Nothing would stop us now. Not hurricanes, not lightning; Poseidon and Neptune will cry in each others arms. Let them try. Let them fail. Let them shiver at our greatness. So it will go for the ocean belongs to the brave, and we are the bravest of them all.
For 325 and 326
Imagine a Robot. Created to look like you, think like you, and share in your memories.
Imagine this Robot killed you and took your life as its own. Nobody notices.
Not your parents.
Not your friends.
The Robot doesnt even know. It simply believes it is you.
Eventually the Robot shuts down. The Funeral proceeds. The Robot is buried with a tombstone engraved with your name. The sun sets and life goes on.
Tragic? Unfortunate? Perhaps a little scary?
Too bad because it is happening as we speak.
Except for the Robot part. We are not so lucky.
Allow me to elaborate.
"Your bone cells replace themselves in a rapid exchange, resulting in a brand-new skeleton about every two years."
"In one year, 98 percent of the atoms in your body will be replaced by other atoms. "
"Stomach lining - new every 4 days.
Liver - new every 6 weeks.
Skin - new every month."
What I'm trying to get at is this...
You better be nice to this Daniel...Daniel #325 I think. I stopped counting so long ago.
Be nice, because in a few months I will cease to exist.
I will be replaced by another.
Oh dont worry-you wont miss me,
You probably wont even notice the switch.
You never did the countless times before.
But the mass of skin cells and organs you see today will all die and shed away- replaced by more skill cells and more organs.
The skin will look the same and the organs will still perform their intended functions.
But they will not be my own. Dont let them fool you.
I might think the same way Daniel #325 did. I might act as he did. I might even share in his memories. But should you inspect closely...very closely... you will see that it is not me. Only a replication. Only another version.
Damn you, Daniel #326, Damn you.
Oh, Well. You cant save me - and dont worry about those who came before me, you couldnt save those ones either.
My time is almost up.
The clock is ticking.
The cells are dying.
Dont forget to say your good-byes.
Sincerely,
- Daniel #325
(In loving memory of Daniel #324)
Imagine this Robot killed you and took your life as its own. Nobody notices.
Not your parents.
Not your friends.
The Robot doesnt even know. It simply believes it is you.
Eventually the Robot shuts down. The Funeral proceeds. The Robot is buried with a tombstone engraved with your name. The sun sets and life goes on.
Tragic? Unfortunate? Perhaps a little scary?
Too bad because it is happening as we speak.
Except for the Robot part. We are not so lucky.
Allow me to elaborate.
"Your bone cells replace themselves in a rapid exchange, resulting in a brand-new skeleton about every two years."
"In one year, 98 percent of the atoms in your body will be replaced by other atoms. "
"Stomach lining - new every 4 days.
Liver - new every 6 weeks.
Skin - new every month."
What I'm trying to get at is this...
You better be nice to this Daniel...Daniel #325 I think. I stopped counting so long ago.
Be nice, because in a few months I will cease to exist.
I will be replaced by another.
Oh dont worry-you wont miss me,
You probably wont even notice the switch.
You never did the countless times before.
But the mass of skin cells and organs you see today will all die and shed away- replaced by more skill cells and more organs.
The skin will look the same and the organs will still perform their intended functions.
But they will not be my own. Dont let them fool you.
I might think the same way Daniel #325 did. I might act as he did. I might even share in his memories. But should you inspect closely...very closely... you will see that it is not me. Only a replication. Only another version.
Damn you, Daniel #326, Damn you.
Oh, Well. You cant save me - and dont worry about those who came before me, you couldnt save those ones either.
My time is almost up.
The clock is ticking.
The cells are dying.
Dont forget to say your good-byes.
Sincerely,
- Daniel #325
(In loving memory of Daniel #324)
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