Man-Monkey’s Tale

A lithe and well-groomed monkey eloquently swung down from his high perch. In a voice clear and piercing, he stated the results of the Long-Arms’ long-term DATA project, entitled "Vested Interest in Reducing Unnecessary Suffering (VIRUS).

"I bring fond greetings from the Tree Top Clan to my fellow creatures, but little in the way of good news,” he began. These inauspicious words were not lost on the crowd--even the youngest Wilds quit their games to listen to the handsome primate with the large and piercing eyes. "We have borne many messages to the Who-Mans, but the results of these sendings have been mixed, at best.

"As you know, long ago Who-Mans were known as the Two-Legged Clan, living in the Green Realm of the Sheltering Father and following Wild ways like the rest of the creatures. But unlike Four-Leggeds who are constantly reminded of the ground from which they sprang, the more upright the Two-Leggeds became, the more they lost sight of their roots. Forward-looking, they felt trapped within the endless cycle of seasons and saw the Rooted Ones as bars in a prison rather than as the green protection of the Father’s arms. Frustrated, they decided to follow a line out of the ever-revolving present to wherever their restless feet might take them.

"We warned them of dangers ahead, and when they said things like ‘Eat my dust’ or ‘Evolution, not revolution’ in their odd jesting way, little did we guess that those would be their last coherent words! But a strange metamorphosis occurred when the Two-Leggeds changed their name to ‘Who-Man’ to mark their quest--they began to call Wilds by strange names as if WE and not they had changed. Now the Who-Mans have forgotten that all creatures understood one another, once upon a time.

"But before leaving the Green Realm, they did one wise thing: they asked the Sheltering Father to bless their journey. This he agreed to do if they in turn vowed to honor his brethren, the Rooted Ones--to respect their autonomy, to cut their flesh only when necessary, and then with proper care and ceremony.

"When the Who-Mans shared the Father’s fruits during a special last meal in WEarth, he said to them, ‘Set aside special groves for an annual renewal of vows and connections to the Green Realm, for this fertile place is the ever-changing expression of my soul. Remember always to follow the sacred laws which dictate that for everything taken in, an equal or greater amount must be given out to continue the cycles of Abundance. By honoring your vows and performing proper rituals, you shall continue to have access to the vast caches of WEarth-knowledge, the WROK, within the Green Realm.’

"The Who-Mans made their vows, and in return received the blessing of the Sheltering Father and many gifts, including a share of his seeds. While some in WEarth thought this generous to a fault, the Father was doing no more and no less than what he thought best. Taking their gifts from WEarth, the Who-Mans then left to begin the long and ponderous process of establishing a new realm.

"Bent on severing ties with their cyclical past, Who-Mans ruled that the 360-degree linearity be divided and conquered, that their realm be built primarily of 180 and ninety-degree forms, with the great wheel of life, the eternal circle, subjugated for service. These laws resulted in the erection of what we now know as Rectangular-World, or Rect-World, as we call it.

"In Rect-World, with its new languages and new lines, distortion and misinterpretation were inevitable. The Who-Mans used, and still use the Father’s gifts to great effect, but many controvert the rules of Abundance by taking his generosity not as a benevolence but as a birthright--theirs to hold and keep, world without end, amen. Rect-World is filled with gifts from the Father, but by taking them in and restricting their outward flow, Who-Mans and Rect-World expand and swell to monstrous proportions.

"Believing excessive increase to be growth, and mistaking size for power, many Who-Mans now consider the Green Realm irrelevant, and their vows unnecessarily constraining. They no longer comprehend, much less honor the autonomy of the Rooted Ones, large or small. Most of the Green Realm has been disturbed, distorted or destroyed, and ancient trees continue to be removed from ancestral groves without ceremony, their flesh cut, burned or taken away and kept from renewing the land which gave them life. Many Wild homelands are destroyed, and the Green Realm fills with fire and smoke, stifling the Father’s soothing breath as he retreats into ever smaller islands of refuge.

"As connections to the Green Realm diminish, Who-Mans forget their place. As they defile and imprison the Rooted Ones in rows, they themselves become entirely unrooted.
“They lose a father yet gain a master, for Time and his kin lead them now. No good parent he, Time measures but does not teach. Yet Who-Mans follow like artless children, heedless of his dangerous twists and turns. Still, they might learn from Time’s most gentle relative, wide-bodied Sister Past, for within the complexities of her rhythms and whirls, she reveals the art of moving harmoniously within paradox and spin. But Who-Mans, too enamored of speed to bother with her slow and intricate steps, tear away from her dance, and worse, break free from Present to be caught up and polarized within the grip of Future who, lean as a line, leads away from and never toward.”

Here Man-Monkey heaved a long, keening sigh. The Storykeeper took this moment to say, "Remember, Man-Monkey, as noted before by Madame President, we, too, are subject to Time’s ever-present demands. Please move quickly toward your final point.”

Man-Monkey, a master storyteller of some renown, let his mouth fall open in shock. Truly, WEarth was in dangerous shape if animals must get to the point. In a more generous past, he might have taken a moment to berate Grey Elephant for ruining his timing, but perhaps the great beast was right, perhaps he must hurry before all was lost...

With the agility of his kind, he quickly regained composure, and said quietly, “Thank you, Friend Elephant, for your timely reminder.

"To continue my tale...hmmm, where was I...

"Oh, yes...Future, yes...the demands of Future...

"Always hungry, never satisfied, Future requires continual feeding. For his benefit, Who-Mans have made ‘Time-Savers’ which we know as ‘Time-Eaters’--creatures who cut up Present, piece by piece, to feed to Future, to satisfy his ever-empty maw. Time-Eaters, large and small, evolve daily at their tasks, yet they have no souls to temper their expanding powers. Quicker, faster, louder, they invade--chopping, cutting, feeding all to Future who eats and eats and grows ever more thin. Present now is nearly gone, and even Sister Past’s huge and generous body is cannibalized.

"Who-Mans and their Time-Eaters seem so bent on feeding all to Future that soon there will be nothing left for him to consume. Indeed, my own Wild kin are numbering less and less as our WEarth homelands disappear. Who-Mans have always considered my people harbingers of their own Two-Legged past, but those of us still alive bring them messages not from long ago but from what lies ahead.

"Let me explain.

"Who-Mans are bereft of covering--a shocking phenomena, we can all agree, and one they handle with ill grace. Obsessed with their fur-less bodies, they continually fuss and experiment with various wrappings, none of which can compare with the beauty and comfort of even my own fine dark fur. Indeed, many Wilds pay the ultimate price for the Who-Mans’ cruel envy of our coats of many colors.

"But coverings are only one problem--another Who-Man obsession is to continually peer at, into and beneath their skin for answers which could easily be found elsewhere were they only to look. But during the last cycle, the Ape and Monkey Association took advantage of this peculiar shortsightedness, and of our cousin-status, to send messages from our bodies to theirs containing codes to be used to unbind the enslaving grip of Future. Who-Mans must cast away their shackles and follow the AaMA codes back into the spiral of connections that still link them to the Green Realm. The Sheltering Father waits to heal them--he calls to them in his many voices.

"But the noise of Future, busily devouring the Green Realm bit by bit, obscures the Sheltering Father’s voice. Who-Mans must struggle to hear beyond the all-consuming cacophony of Time-Eaters; they must fight, within and without their bodies, to repenter the curve of Now. But instead, they dither, they argue, they die, never comprehending where the answers lie.
“And worse, the Long-Arm Clans are prodded and probed for solutions not within us. Our closeness to Who-Mans has always been a double-edged sword but never more than now when we are sacrificed on the cutting-edge of their quest. While the AaMA feared this outcome, we hoped Who-Mans would see beyond their own skin, and ours.

"Our plan fails, and we suffer for it.”

The animals were silent as Man-Monkey’s story ended. His final words spread throughout WEarth like a plume of unclean water.

"Thank you, Man-Monkey, for your report," said Madame President soberly. Grey Elephant then called for the next speaker, asking, "Who speaks for the Deer Populace?”