Sunday, June 7, 2009

Transportation of Love

Written in that curiously uncapitalized form of the internets, Transportation of Love may be a tale about a project manager, or 'God'.

"how can," he said, "how can i ensure that when i emit my love, it will really be processed properly?"

the engineers blinked, which was a mistake. they were smited. new engineers came up.

"are you legit?" he asked.

they presented their credentials quickly.

"have some hidden psychological problems?" he peered at them. "some deep seated issues?"

"no," they replied, unanimously.

"good. what i want -- what i want is direct transportation of my love to anyone who needs it."

the honest engineers nodded, unanimously.

"i want everything to become beautiful, all at once. i don't care about the 'necessity for evil', if you bring that shit up, you're visiting hell with those last guys." he stuck his thumb backward, indicating where the poor engineers had gone.

"you what? ah yes. conditions as they have been so far. just make a way to assure everyone alive that they are being taken care of. make them really feel it. what? betrayed love? **** that, that's a tired concept. we have better paradigms. now go, do you job."


"what about free will?" asked someone in the background.

"yeah, no problem," he said. "it's a finite process."

the someone looked blankly at him.

"what, why are you looking at me like a dumbass? get to fucking work!"


he was signing documents when one of the gnomes came up to him. he looked around the room. it was warm and cozy. he liked this. this was good. they were all making the most efficient way to transport his love. everyone was working industriously, which was the best way for things to be.

"yes?" he asked, adjusting his glasses. the gnome shuffled his feet nervously. "out with it man, what seems to be the problem?"

the gnome did a little half shrug. "well," he said, rolling his eyes to buy some time, "well, i mean, 'seems', i mean. 'seems' may not be the best way to put it ..."

"you see these down here?" he asked the gnome. the gnome looked down and nodded. "these are documents. and i'm signing them."

"yes," said the gnome.

"that's my work. that's what i do. they don't sign themselves, you know."

the gnome shook his head along with him. "no, they don't."

he looked around the office. everyone was busy doing their work. there didn't seem to be anyone who could help out.

"do you need a translator?" he asked. he put his pen down to make the gnome feel more relaxed. it seemed to help a little.

"no," said the gnome, "but only - i mean, it 'seems' that the question of free will has come up again."

"you what?" he asked, distracted by the appearance of new documents piling up on his table for signing.

"free will," repeated the gnome.

"whale, wasn't it? some kid's seaworld fantasy?" the paperwork was really starting to pile up.

"err. no. that was 'free willy'. 'free will', on the other hand, er, is like, er, when the people can decide for themselves. er."

he looked at the gnome, and then around the office. everyone was busy working, and didn't seem available to help out.

"do you need a translator?" he asked. he watched with concern as a stream of water slowly seeped down the gnome's pants, and formed a puddle at its feet.


he smote the gnome, and cursed and then smote the urine stain on the floor that had remained.

"doesn't anyone here speak english?" he asked.

"i don't," said some wise guy in the back.

"not in the mood for cheekiness, thank you," he said, straightening some of the new papers that were appearing. "someone just got smited for his inability to communicate properly, i'll have you know."

the gnomes all stared back carefully at their work, which made him feel better. "now, what is this free willy that everyone seems so uptight about?"

they all looked at each other questioningly. no one seemed to know.

"well," he said, exasperated, "isn't there a memo or something - yes, i know, i already smote him. i would appreciate it if you didn't always try to demean everything i say," he said, peering at one of the gnomes sitting nearby, "it makes the whole work environment very negative."

the offending gnome sat back down and stared at its monitor.

"right. well then, i guess no one knows. no free willy tonight, in any case," he muttered. a new piece of paper arrived and he picked his pen up, and got back to signing the documents.

there is a part 2, but you will have to wait.

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