Facteur Chaval ~ Gewil
We can presume that the origin of life is the cell.
Not just any cell; not the “Hi folks, happy to be here” cell; not the eat/fuck cell; not the “You talking to me?” cell; the cell from which we all stem is the self-replicating cell. It is a cell which has only one purpose; a narcissus in the extreme who seeks only to make more of himself; an ambitious cell who surely suffers from deep rooted feelings of inadequacy marked by an undying faith in his own beauty.
At the core of the Leviathan’s brain; beyond the influence of all those processors, programmes, routines and chemi-coercion muscle control systems, beyond the health and safety pseudo-scenarios; beyond the steel structures and organic cargo implanted in her body; beyond the reach of man; somewhere in the spark he calls life there exists the mind of a whale.
Whales were once an intelligent species. Not clever but intelligent. It is a perverse irony that, by man’s basic survival theory that states bigger is better, the whale should’ve won the evolutionary battle.
But the whale was unaware that battle had been declared and was unprepared to go to war, even for its own survival.
So what is it that determined that the human evolutionary goal to be one of self- (and indeed everyone-else) destructive? What little something tipped the scales for that particular species? Perhaps it is that little spark that said “I will survive, and I will do it in style.”
Perhaps it is that ‘style’ that was their undoing?
Or is it perhaps it was that very human need to be better than their perceived opponents.
Did this trait, so helpful in rising him above the other animals, while succeeding to elevate him to the top of the food pyramid, negate the very concept of survival.
It is his need to win that is the undoing of all that is human.
This Leviathan is living proof.
All of her instincts are telling her to head for the sun, but the machines that the men have put in her body tell the Leviathan that her instincts are wrong, a fact that adds greatly to her discomfort. She calls out once more, hoping that perhaps the elders will hear her and sing to her fear.
There is no answer. She is a long way from home.
Not just any cell; not the “Hi folks, happy to be here” cell; not the eat/fuck cell; not the “You talking to me?” cell; the cell from which we all stem is the self-replicating cell. It is a cell which has only one purpose; a narcissus in the extreme who seeks only to make more of himself; an ambitious cell who surely suffers from deep rooted feelings of inadequacy marked by an undying faith in his own beauty.
At the core of the Leviathan’s brain; beyond the influence of all those processors, programmes, routines and chemi-coercion muscle control systems, beyond the health and safety pseudo-scenarios; beyond the steel structures and organic cargo implanted in her body; beyond the reach of man; somewhere in the spark he calls life there exists the mind of a whale.
Whales were once an intelligent species. Not clever but intelligent. It is a perverse irony that, by man’s basic survival theory that states bigger is better, the whale should’ve won the evolutionary battle.
But the whale was unaware that battle had been declared and was unprepared to go to war, even for its own survival.
So what is it that determined that the human evolutionary goal to be one of self- (and indeed everyone-else) destructive? What little something tipped the scales for that particular species? Perhaps it is that little spark that said “I will survive, and I will do it in style.”
Perhaps it is that ‘style’ that was their undoing?
Or is it perhaps it was that very human need to be better than their perceived opponents.
Did this trait, so helpful in rising him above the other animals, while succeeding to elevate him to the top of the food pyramid, negate the very concept of survival.
It is his need to win that is the undoing of all that is human.
This Leviathan is living proof.
All of her instincts are telling her to head for the sun, but the machines that the men have put in her body tell the Leviathan that her instincts are wrong, a fact that adds greatly to her discomfort. She calls out once more, hoping that perhaps the elders will hear her and sing to her fear.
There is no answer. She is a long way from home.
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6 comments:
evolution will bring us back to earth, screaming and kicking all the way. loving the feel and flow of this. Merry Christmas
Exquisite.
Lxx
Tom: The (suspended)citizens of Mars have everything riding on the Leviathan escaping evolutions gravity.
Merry Merry
Letitia: Not entirely happy with this episode but think it has its place in the story and I can't pinpoint exactly what I I'm not entirely happy with :/
Merry Merry
what a line: song to her fear.
wow.
this is great.
more, more...
Happy New Year to everyone :-)
Whales killing sharks came to mind as I read this. Ever seen a whale flip a shark on it's back and hold it there, until it's ready to kill the shark and eat it?
There's a pod on the west coast that kill and eat sharks at will.
Your last paragraph is bloody brilliant. Gonna have to play catch up reading your posts!
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