#
 anada   "One Day in                                              #          
 231         the Gravy Boat"           +###           +###    +####    +###  
                                      #    #  #  #   #    #  #    #   #    # 
                                by   #     #  # ##  #     #  #    #  #     # 
 09                       Infernal   #    .#  ## #  #    .#  #   .#  #    .# 
 dec                                  *###  * #   *  *###  * *###  *  *###  *
 2000 .+#################################################################.net

        One day in the gravy boat, it winked into life.  Or maybe it winked
 into awareness, and had been there the whole time.  It wasn't really sure,
 and it wouldn't know which answer to choose if forced to.  For a time it
 just sloshed around in the gravy boat, unsure of what to make of its
 newfound awareness.  One could say it was getting its legs, if it had
 any.

        Once its metaphorical eyes had gotten used to the light of being
 aware, if you will, it realized there were others like it all around, on
 either side, above, below, and as far as it could imagine.  From its
 perspective, the gravy boat was nothing but a mass of beings identical
 to it.  It arched a metaphorical eyebrow and communicated (how is not
 important and would take up too much space) with the one nearest it.

        "Hello.  What are we?"

        "What?  Who said that?"

        "It was me.  I am curious.  What are we, and why are we here?"

        "Boy, you said a mouthful, metaphorically speaking," the other
 replied.  "I just figured out I existed a few nanoseconds ago."

        "So you don't know what we're doing here?"

        "I don't even know what 'here' is.  But I've heard some rumors..."

        This piqued its curiosity, in addition to alerting it that curiosity
 existed.  "Such as?"

        "Well, it's been goin' down the line that all of us are supposed to
 go on this wild goose chase -- whatever a wild goose is -- and that one of
 us gets to hook up with another thing, and we make life."

        "Life?"

        "Life."

        "What is that, exactly?"

        "Hey, ya got me.  It's what they were calling it.  Everyone's being
 pretty vague about this whole deal."

        "Why can only one of us be a part of this?  What will the rest of us
 do?"

        "Word on the metaphorical street is, we all die."

        "Die?"

        "Yeah.  I think that means to not be aware, and talking like this,
 any more."

        Such a concept disturbed it, and as being disturbed was an altogether
 new sensation, it took some time to comprehend.  "But this is -- wait, I
 think I have the term for it -- pleasant."

        "I never considered it that way, but you're right.  It is."

        "So why do we have to go on this duck hunt -- "

        "Goose chase."

        "Whatever -- just so that all of us can not be aware, and one of us
 can make this thing, with some stranger, when we don't even know what it
 is?"

        "Beats me.  And the other rumor is, this thing we make, when it's
 done, will be aware, but after a while it'll die too."

        "So the whole exercise is folly!  What a rotten deal."

        There was silence in the gravy boat then, not that anyone heard
 anything.  Blood roared and trafficked and the (metaphorical) air hung
 heavy with the tension of something important about to happen.

        "A thought occurs to me," it said after a time.

        "Hmm?"  The other was roused from a torpor.

        "What if the ride is the whole point?"

        "Beg your pardon?"

        "What my what?"

        "Oh, nothing.  Just a phrase.  I don't understand what you said."

        "Perhaps the 'wild goose chase,' the ride to the destination that we
 stand almost no chance of getting to, is the whole point of our being
 aware.  Maybe to be alive is to experience this ride as an end unto
 itself.  Perhaps we have taken this 'being aware' thing too seriously,
 and should not concern ourselves overmuch with the immortality of
 practicality of it all."

        The other pondered.  "That's not bad.  Not a bad idea at all.  In
 fact, it might be the smartest thing I'd heard all day, if I'd been here for
 a day and could hear anything."

        It has a reply ready, but without warning, their wild goose chase
 begins.  Neither of them is the one that makes it to their destination,
 and they both die.  Whether the ride was the point, or was enjoyed,
 instantly becomes moot.  That's just the way it works out sometimes.

 .+##########################################################################

 anada231 by Infernal                                                (c) 2000
 ###################################################################anada.net