A tale was once told among the ancestors of the people who live at the base of the great mountain to the north, from which a waterfall plummets into a river that winds across the land. The people who now live in that rich and lovely place still remember the tale of how and why their ancestors’ hearts once grew still and frigid. And they still remember what part the everyday gods played in the tale.
“Is it true that you once beat Hare in a foot race? It can’t be true. But is it true?”
He continued walking along as the little black bird flapped around him. She landed on a nearby branch.
“I’ve heard that you’ve seen the world from above as a bird does when she’s flying. Is that true? How did you do it? It can’t be true. But is it true?”
Tortoise sighed again. But he also smiled.
Starling was young and eager. But she was also persistent. And she was also perceptive. She noted the smile on Tortoise’s face. She understood what it meant. He had expected her to grow tired of asking him the same questions day after day. But she had done so for five days now. Perhaps he would deem her worthy enough to deserve some answers to her questions.Continue reading
I brought a friend with me. I wasn’t going into the abandoned factory alone.
Back in the day, people called it the “organ factory.” The irony is that we have actual organ factories now. Fabrication technology has spread farther than preservation technology ever did. But there was a time when all we had was organ preservation. A time when anyone who could extend the life of a donated organ by even just a bit could save lives that would otherwise have been lost.Continue reading