of jaguars kept the monkeys from eating the very last ferns. The ferns and their magic in turn protect the Spring. The pure waters of the Spring, give safe harbor to the wheel so that in can twist in secrecy. Altogether this is our Trinity, our purpose.”
She went on, “Our service to the Earth as Colonists is to be true stewards of the jaguars, the ferns, and the wheel.”
“I’ll recite our poem as well. I know you know it, but it helps me think.” Lillian straightened her dress and said the sacred poem:
During the evolution of humans,
God saw the greed and violence of man,
To insure and preserve her creation,
Earth is equipped with an intrinsic relation,
A stitch of hubris woven into the fabric of man,
As men fight and destroy there lurks a genius plan,
For each new god or religion they adore,
Our wheel collects all their whores,
They show up in our spring on our wheel,
Their lost souls yearning to to heal,
The more in the name men maim and rape,
Our wheel begins to spin with hate,
When the wheel stops, and it will again
There’s only 10,000 left to help it mend,
So we see now why our colony must be here,
It’s us who preserve the good magic when there are tears
She took a breath, “Basically our poem says there are cycles to our wheel because the outsiders never truly learn the lesson of violence and greed. It can go for long intervals but eventually it stops. And when it stops it stops on two new figures they worship. Long ago as the outsiders, those on the Capitol and rest of the planet, picked up the pieces of the last collapse they invaded our Colony. The outsiders tried to use the wheel for their own power. Through God and magic the Colony was then separated and Colonists were given full and complete control over the wheel. The Colony and it’s purpose are imperative to the survival of Earth so long as the people of the Capital and rest of the planet continue to build societies and religions that favor power and greed over love and environment.”
One of the board members cut Lillian off, “A beautiful explanation of our trinity, its interdependencies between the Colony and the outsiders, as well as our beliefs and legends. But what do you think drives the wheel? How does the wheel turn? It doesn’t get radio reports from the Capitol about what country invaded who or how many women were raped yesterday.”
With some exasperation in her voice, the Fern Tender then remarked, “You’re holding back, you’re protecting yourself. Put yourself out there Lillian, you won the right to show us your imagination, your theory, your ideas behind the mystery of how the wheel turns. Have you considered that you might just know the truth?”
Sensing she could no longer stall, she had to give her thesis. Feeling more than just a tinge of regret that her thoughts now no longer belonged to her only, she reflected on just how important the mystery of wheel had been to her. Now the weird puzzle that she pondered for fun and distraction throughout her childhood would have to be risked and shared. Pulling her shoulders back, and then lunging toward the board as if her ideas were a sword to wield at them, she found her confidence.
Feeling vulnerable and brave, she began, “Ladies, what I believe drives the wheel is death. Death of the people, plants, and animals. The wheel knows the exact state of our world by monitoring death. People are buried, put in the ground along with their souls when they die. And without a consciousness or a body, the souls leave the casket, then begin to sink. They sink deep into the Earth, until finally the soul hits a vein of ground water. That tiny underground stream pushes the soul into a larger pool and ultimately the souls of all the worlds’ dead collect in our aquifer where they remain until they are cleansed. The stench of man’s evil is polished away from each one and they begin to rise
She went on, “Our service to the Earth as Colonists is to be true stewards of the jaguars, the ferns, and the wheel.”
“I’ll recite our poem as well. I know you know it, but it helps me think.” Lillian straightened her dress and said the sacred poem:
During the evolution of humans,
God saw the greed and violence of man,
To insure and preserve her creation,
Earth is equipped with an intrinsic relation,
A stitch of hubris woven into the fabric of man,
As men fight and destroy there lurks a genius plan,
For each new god or religion they adore,
Our wheel collects all their whores,
They show up in our spring on our wheel,
Their lost souls yearning to to heal,
The more in the name men maim and rape,
Our wheel begins to spin with hate,
When the wheel stops, and it will again
There’s only 10,000 left to help it mend,
So we see now why our colony must be here,
It’s us who preserve the good magic when there are tears
She took a breath, “Basically our poem says there are cycles to our wheel because the outsiders never truly learn the lesson of violence and greed. It can go for long intervals but eventually it stops. And when it stops it stops on two new figures they worship. Long ago as the outsiders, those on the Capitol and rest of the planet, picked up the pieces of the last collapse they invaded our Colony. The outsiders tried to use the wheel for their own power. Through God and magic the Colony was then separated and Colonists were given full and complete control over the wheel. The Colony and it’s purpose are imperative to the survival of Earth so long as the people of the Capital and rest of the planet continue to build societies and religions that favor power and greed over love and environment.”
One of the board members cut Lillian off, “A beautiful explanation of our trinity, its interdependencies between the Colony and the outsiders, as well as our beliefs and legends. But what do you think drives the wheel? How does the wheel turn? It doesn’t get radio reports from the Capitol about what country invaded who or how many women were raped yesterday.”
With some exasperation in her voice, the Fern Tender then remarked, “You’re holding back, you’re protecting yourself. Put yourself out there Lillian, you won the right to show us your imagination, your theory, your ideas behind the mystery of how the wheel turns. Have you considered that you might just know the truth?”
Sensing she could no longer stall, she had to give her thesis. Feeling more than just a tinge of regret that her thoughts now no longer belonged to her only, she reflected on just how important the mystery of wheel had been to her. Now the weird puzzle that she pondered for fun and distraction throughout her childhood would have to be risked and shared. Pulling her shoulders back, and then lunging toward the board as if her ideas were a sword to wield at them, she found her confidence.
Feeling vulnerable and brave, she began, “Ladies, what I believe drives the wheel is death. Death of the people, plants, and animals. The wheel knows the exact state of our world by monitoring death. People are buried, put in the ground along with their souls when they die. And without a consciousness or a body, the souls leave the casket, then begin to sink. They sink deep into the Earth, until finally the soul hits a vein of ground water. That tiny underground stream pushes the soul into a larger pool and ultimately the souls of all the worlds’ dead collect in our aquifer where they remain until they are cleansed. The stench of man’s evil is polished away from each one and they begin to rise
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