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Aug 28, 2004 For a species that, in cosmic terms, first climbed out of the primordial swamp only about a week ago, homo sapiens have proved quite enterprising. Once we turned our backs on our cousins, the ape, there was no stopping us. Sitting in his cave about four days ago (on the cosmic calendar), Ug must have thought he'd landed on the island of Myst. Here was this lonely windswept place with lots of clues scattered about. What could they mean? What was the great mystery to be solved? What was the answer to it all? If he was going to get off the island he'd better start thinking. And so Ug thought. And over the course of the next four days he discovered fire, the wheel, language, mathematics and the Big Mac. Pretty impressive, huh? And all in less than a week. But he was still no closer to the answer. He still had to find a way off the island. Ug's island became full of fantastic things. Cars, planes, TVs, double-glazing, portfolio management, cell phones and Barbie dolls. These were sure signs of progress, he told himself. He must be on the right track now. But the more Ug discovered the more confused he became. Everywhere he turned there were more religious leaders, politicians, experts, pundits, commentators, conspiracy theorists and plain old nutbags than he could shake a mammoth's tusk at. All of them had plenty to say, but none could agree on the point of the game or a common interpretation of the clues. They were right and everyone else was wrong. And that was that. Ug was getting nowhere fast. He had left his old life behind and now considered himself quite the modern man. An air conditioned condo was preferable to a cave and his Apple Mac sure beat finger-painting on damp walls. He had a dental plan. Ralphs was just around the corner. Life was sweet. Ug was getting to like it. Maybe he should forget about trying to get off the island. But then again . . . The problem with staying on the island was that lots of the people he had grown up with were rooted in the past. Afraid of the unknown, seeking comfort from gods of their own invention, they were constantly plagued by fear. They still couldn't erase memories of nights spent huddled around a fire on the look-out for saber-toothed tigers or wandering hordes of Troglodytes. Nothing had changed for them over the past four days, and now they squandered valuable resources discovering ever more sophisticated ways to hurl big rocks over long distances. And just in case some low-brow, knuckle- scraping Troglodyte had the temerity to hurl one back, they had dug caves for themselves so they could hide until any danger had passed. He thought about some of the clues he had picked up on the island. Why had he discovered music, art, language and literature? Why had he been led to discover how to mend a baby's heart, how to feed the starving, how to conquer disease and prolong life? What use were they? What ultimate good was Ug’s ingenuity on an island still run by tribes of cave- dwellers? Their thinking was locked in the Stone Age, and Ug had come too far ever to live like that again. It was definitely time to get off the island. Or was it? It suddenly occurred to Ug that maybe he hadn't understood the rules. Maybe there was nowhere else to go. Perhaps there was nothing but the island. The thought came as quite a revelation. If it was true, and he was going to survive this mysterious place, he urgently needed to solve a lot more clues before rocks started falling on his air-conditioned condo. Oh well, he reminded himself optimistically as he tucked into his Big Mac, it's only been four days. Hopefully I'll discover the answer after lunch. Give Ug all the help you can. ------------ About the author Simon Wood: I am from England, currently living in California. I have just completed Fairy Story, a children's fantasy adventure, and embarked on a second. I can be found at: www.writers.net/writers/34102 Email: simonwoodca2004@sbcglobal.net Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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