disprove my idea?”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Elza snapped. “You
presented us a tidy little tautology dressed up as philosophy and
now you are being evasive when questioned. The burden of proof is
on you. And referencing your theory as evidence of your theory
doesn’t count.”
“Why do you get to make the rules? This is my
presentation.”
“I didn’t make the rules of logic. I don’t
think even the Creator has the ability to change how causality
works. You’ll have to resign yourself to playing by the rules of
reality.”
Drake folded his arms in silent protest.
“I suppose that ends this session,” Greg
said. “Let’s take a half-hour break.”
Chapter 11 – Drake / Iteration 1
The intruders picked through his possessions
as he watched them from his hiding place. They took everything of
value, including the ramshackle tent that held the rest, then
departed.
He climbed down from the tree to inventory
what remained. Not much. The supply of acorns, pine nuts, and
tubers he had stockpiled for winter were gone. As were the
blankets, the fire-bow, and even his collection of pretty rocks.
All that remained to him were the frame of his tent and a stack of
firewood.
It was forty summers since the start of the
world, and he had not aged a single day. His body still presented
itself as the child of fifteen summers it had been on the first
day. A malnourished and stunted fifteen summers that people often
mistook for even younger.
His original tribe had driven him away when
he failed to mature. They had apologized one moment and threatened
retribution should he ever return the next. He hadn't tested their
goodwill, instead hiking away from their lands.
The first tribe he encountered killed him as
a foreigner. He learned his lesson and avoided people after that.
He figured he had observed enough already. The Creator could send
him into a nicer world if watching people was so important.
He died many more times on his own. Once from
wolves. Three times from the weather. At least ten times from
accidents.
The second tribe he encountered took him
captive, cut off his manhood, and made him work for them. They made
him do both men's work and women's work since they thought he was
neither. He hid the fact that his flesh had regrown. For seven
summers, he stayed with that tribe. They worked him to exhaustion
and taunted him daily, but at least he had food.
Then a man took him to bed and discovered he
was whole. They cut him apart again, then checked him the next
morning. Amazed, the tribe butchered him to consume his healing
properties. He escaped before they realized he didn't stay
dead.
The third tribe he encountered killed him in
passing. The fourth tribe he encountered only threw rocks at him
until he ran away. The fifth tribe he encountered stole his
possessions while he watched.
He did not want to encounter a sixth tribe.
With no worthwhile possessions left to him and his campsite
discovered, he chose a direction and walked. Starting over was
hard, but he could do it. He would need to live in a lean-to of
sticks stacked against a tree until he collected enough hides for a
tent. The forests produced plenty of food in warm weather, so he
would be fine once the cold departed. He could build his camp in a
thicket again so people had trouble sneaking up on him.
He just wished the people had not stolen his
pretty rocks. A lot of them were regular smooth river rocks, but
there had been a blue one streaked through with sparkling yellow
that he really liked. And another with bands of purple and red.
Maybe he would find another one of those blue rocks. If not, the
Creator would probably make more of them in the next world.
Chapter 12 – Hess
Ingrid sat erect as they reclaimed their
seats. She waited until everyone gave her their attention before
speaking. “I intend to take the conversation in a different
direction than what we’ve heard so far. No offense intended to
Griff, Mel, or Drake, but
“Of course he doesn’t,” Elza snapped. “You
presented us a tidy little tautology dressed up as philosophy and
now you are being evasive when questioned. The burden of proof is
on you. And referencing your theory as evidence of your theory
doesn’t count.”
“Why do you get to make the rules? This is my
presentation.”
“I didn’t make the rules of logic. I don’t
think even the Creator has the ability to change how causality
works. You’ll have to resign yourself to playing by the rules of
reality.”
Drake folded his arms in silent protest.
“I suppose that ends this session,” Greg
said. “Let’s take a half-hour break.”
Chapter 11 – Drake / Iteration 1
The intruders picked through his possessions
as he watched them from his hiding place. They took everything of
value, including the ramshackle tent that held the rest, then
departed.
He climbed down from the tree to inventory
what remained. Not much. The supply of acorns, pine nuts, and
tubers he had stockpiled for winter were gone. As were the
blankets, the fire-bow, and even his collection of pretty rocks.
All that remained to him were the frame of his tent and a stack of
firewood.
It was forty summers since the start of the
world, and he had not aged a single day. His body still presented
itself as the child of fifteen summers it had been on the first
day. A malnourished and stunted fifteen summers that people often
mistook for even younger.
His original tribe had driven him away when
he failed to mature. They had apologized one moment and threatened
retribution should he ever return the next. He hadn't tested their
goodwill, instead hiking away from their lands.
The first tribe he encountered killed him as
a foreigner. He learned his lesson and avoided people after that.
He figured he had observed enough already. The Creator could send
him into a nicer world if watching people was so important.
He died many more times on his own. Once from
wolves. Three times from the weather. At least ten times from
accidents.
The second tribe he encountered took him
captive, cut off his manhood, and made him work for them. They made
him do both men's work and women's work since they thought he was
neither. He hid the fact that his flesh had regrown. For seven
summers, he stayed with that tribe. They worked him to exhaustion
and taunted him daily, but at least he had food.
Then a man took him to bed and discovered he
was whole. They cut him apart again, then checked him the next
morning. Amazed, the tribe butchered him to consume his healing
properties. He escaped before they realized he didn't stay
dead.
The third tribe he encountered killed him in
passing. The fourth tribe he encountered only threw rocks at him
until he ran away. The fifth tribe he encountered stole his
possessions while he watched.
He did not want to encounter a sixth tribe.
With no worthwhile possessions left to him and his campsite
discovered, he chose a direction and walked. Starting over was
hard, but he could do it. He would need to live in a lean-to of
sticks stacked against a tree until he collected enough hides for a
tent. The forests produced plenty of food in warm weather, so he
would be fine once the cold departed. He could build his camp in a
thicket again so people had trouble sneaking up on him.
He just wished the people had not stolen his
pretty rocks. A lot of them were regular smooth river rocks, but
there had been a blue one streaked through with sparkling yellow
that he really liked. And another with bands of purple and red.
Maybe he would find another one of those blue rocks. If not, the
Creator would probably make more of them in the next world.
Chapter 12 – Hess
Ingrid sat erect as they reclaimed their
seats. She waited until everyone gave her their attention before
speaking. “I intend to take the conversation in a different
direction than what we’ve heard so far. No offense intended to
Griff, Mel, or Drake, but
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