#parable

libramoon@diaspora.glasswings.com

All God’s Children #parable

“Great day, my brethren! We are ready to execute our plan, and some Baby Killers. (laughs) For those of you who were not at our last meeting, Joe here — come on up here with me, Joe — has assembled this sweet little high octane explosive device with a timered detonator from the plans we found on the internet.

Sister Mary has agreed to hide the device in a fake baby bump and take it to the clinic. We have figured out the time when it will be most busy, so she can easily avoid detection. She’ll just secure the thing where it won’t be noticed in the restroom, and set the detonator to give her plenty of time to get back here. Then, we all will just be having our regular meeting when we hear the news.

Yeah, Chris, you have a question? I know you’ve not been here in awhile.”

“Hey, Luc. So, let me get this straight. You want to blow up this clinic at peak time when there’ll be all those pregnant women at risk? You know this clinic serves all kinds of healthcare for local women who can’t afford to get prenatal care anywhere else close enough for them to get to. Even those women coming for abortions might be persuaded against that course with more gentle tactics, at least some of them. How does it make sense for our cause to threaten all these pregnant women and their children?”

“It’s for a higher purpose, Chris. Can’t get the Lord’s work done just jawing and making noise outside that evil den of murder. We have to let those Godless Baby Killers know the wrath of the Almighty.”

“Luc, you’re going way too far, here. Listen people, you don’t need to do this.”

“You chicken, Chris? Don’t have the guts to fight for what is right, to save the innocent?”

“What I am saying, Luc, is this violence you instigate is no way to follow our Lord’s Commandment: ‘Thou shalt not kill.'”

“Yeah, kid, you never did have what it takes. That’s why I’m the Lord’s special right-hand Angel; and you are only the sniveling human son.”

escheche@diasp.org
dredmorbius@diaspora.glasswings.com

The Country of the Blind, by H.G. Wells (1913)

The had become purblind so gradually that they scarcely noted their loss. They guided the sightless youngsters hither and thither until they knew the whole valley marvellously and when at last sight died out among them the race lived on. They had even time to adapt themselves to the blind control of fire, which they made carefully in stoves of stone. They were a simple strain of people at the first, unlettered, only slightly touched with the Spanish civilisation, but with something of a tradition of the arts of old Peru and of its lost philosophy. Generation followed generation. They forgot many things; they devised many things. Their tradition of the greater world they came from became mythical in colour and uncertain. In all things save sight they were strong and able, and presently the chance of birth and heredity sent one who had an original mind and who could talk and persuade among them, and then afterwards another.

https://archive.org/details/countryofblindot00welluoft/page/536/mode/2up?view=theater

#HGWells #Fiction #Narrative #Parable #Metaphor #Blindness #Subtoot #Tablets #GenerativeComputing