by Pete Lockett
“Where are we?”
“Definitely somewhere in the UK. Home Counties I’m guessing, but I’ve only been here a day longer than you.”
“Right, that means you’ll leave a day before me, presupposing everything you say is true.”
“Well if it wasn’t true it would be one amazing pointless story. Christ knows I wish it wasn’t true. I’ve been through numerous transitions and it doesn’t get any easier. Worst of all is not knowing what sort of revelation one is looking for, and beyond that, what would happen if I had it.”
“Could it be some sort of eternal sin thing? I was a bit religious and loosely held some beliefs along those lines.”
“I don’t think so, although I wouldn’t rule anything out. I was not religious at all. That’s the difference between us right there. Maybe you were praying to the wrong one? Got to the gates of heaven and Shiva was there instead of St Peter. That would be a shock if you’d spent your life believing in Christ,” announced the fox.
“Yeah, wouldn’t it be. In retrospect, it might have been more beneficial spending my time watching Animal Planet and National Geographic.”
“Are you a Christian, a Muslim, Hindu? What did you believe in?”
“I was Christian, Church of England. Not fanatical, but a regular church goer.”
“Was?” enquired the fox.
“Well I’m dead aren’t I? Anyway, I honestly don’t know. Church of the living tortoise? I don’t think so. Turning me into a reptile wasn’t the best way to ensure continued loyalty.”
“I’m with you on that one. How religious were you?”
“Not massively but I was swayed by social pressure and conformity. I liked to have that comforting belief that there was something out there much bigger than me that I could hold out a hand to and ask for help. Now I can do that in reality, it turns out to be a fox ten times my size.”
“I personally find it a little odd to worship something that’s completely impossible to verify scientifically? Even if there had been proof, I wouldn’t have been a follower.”
“Even if it was proven? Why not?”
“Well, let’s assume for argument’s sake that there’s a god. We then have to consider the possibility that its nature is either good or bad, or even a mix of good or bad just like the mortals on Earth.”
“Why bad? How can there be a bad natured god?”
“It’s just for the purpose of the argument. Would you agree that if it was a bad natured god then you wouldn’t worship it?”
“For sure.”
“Me too. How would you feel though, if it was a mix of good and bad and its actions one way or another, were dependent upon its moods or prejudices?”
“Well off the top of my head, I wouldn’t feel comfortable about that either. What would make him, or her different from regular people?”
“The power and omnipotence, of course.”
“Of course, power. Power which could be used for good or evil,” replied Ed, getting more and more engaged in the conversation, almost forgetting he was talking to a large, brown fox in an underground lair.
“Exactly. I certainly wouldn’t want to worship such a god. You could be praised one day yet scolded the next for the very same action.”
“I guess you’re right. But what if he was good, but without any powers?”
“Well maybe there’d be some people willing to entrust their hopes of wellbeing to an impotent god, but I wouldn’t be one of them.”
“Me neither.”
“This leaves us with the ideal candidate for worship, an all-powerful and good-natured god.”
“Indeed.”
“I don’t see any evidence of it though; did you in your lifetime?”
Ed paused for thought, the moist scales on his head catching some penetrating flecks of sunlight glinting down into the lair as the day slipped into night.
“Well, not especially, to be honest.”
“Me neither. If there was such a god then how could he stand by and watch tsunamis and earthquakes destroy people’s lives? Isn’t that an argument that no such god exists?”
“Maybe.”
“On the other hand, if he caused it to happen, then he’d be evil in nature. Or, if he observed it but was unable to stop it, then that’s complete impotence. If he caused it and then chooses a select group of people to save then that’s even worse. What other options are there? Maybe he didn’t notice it at all?”
“Well, put like that, it’s hard to think of any other scenarios.”
“Exactly! I just can’t see a counter argument against it, apart from one that requires brainwashing, emotional irrationality and enforced doctrines. Whichever angle you come at it from, I cannot personally see a reason to be a worshipper.”
“Your argument makes total sense to me, Sam. However, proving it one way or the other isn’t the only point. To my knowledge, the question of the existence of God doesn’t even come up in the Buddhist doctrines.”
“Well, for me the doctrines of any faith can create a direct conflict between personal morality and philosophy on the one hand, and a belief in an all-powerful master dictating a specific set of rules, on the other. With this we give up a degree of freedom and start to think of reward or punishment, guided more by fear and compliance than by a natural desire to be good and morally honest people. I prefer good for good's sake. It doesn’t make me a Buddhist or a believer in god, but rather a belief in good. An extra ‘O’ and such a different meaning.”
“Yeah, anyway, at least it’s easier to become a Buddhist if you’re a tortoise. You don’t have any choice in the matter regarding clinging onto worldly possessions.”
“There is that,” replied Sam as he bent his head back around to nip at an unsuspecting flea on his side.
“What do you mean exactly by personal morality?” enquired Ed.
“I’m not an expert but I’d be inclined to say that it’s the ability to imagine the consequences of actions upon another as if it were happening to oneself and then build a code of conduct based on this.”
“But what about people who couldn’t care less about this code?” asked Ed inquisitively.
“Maybe there’s some sort of brain malfunction or short circuit?
“It’s not only about not hurting or not inflicting suffering on others though? That’s really just altruism isn’t it?” enquired Ed.
“To a degree, but a whole load of stuff gets bundled in there with religion which doesn’t come from any personal morality that could ever occur naturally. Don’t masturbate, for example. Why not just make people with shorter arms and solve the problem at the design stage? The only person who could possibly benefit from that is the person that cleans the sheets. Beyond that, why come up with something like the seven deadly sins and then programme people to be tempted? Either have the sins and consider them as ‘OK’ or else remove any instinctual desires mankind might have in that direction.”
“Ha ha! There’s another angle though. Maybe these religious doctrines have the positive aspect of creating a better social structure and a degree of harmony in the community? If everyone believes in the same thing then they’ll get along just fine.”
“True enough. I guess I was more of a rebel than that. I didn’t like having sets of rules and regulations imposed upon me.”
“Do you see faith and belief as totally negative then?”
“No, I just don’t see them as the bedrock of good they are made out to be. You can’t have faith or belief without some degree of doubt. In my book, something is either a fact or it’s not; you either know or you don’t know. To me, having faith is no more than having hope, and belief is no more than hope, or passive acceptance of unproven speculation.”
“Incredible really, Sam. I’ve never really thought deeply about this. You seem to have thought it all through,” replied Ed, dragging his cumbersome body around to the left with his oversized chubby reptilian legs.
“A bit. I was quite interested in philosophy as a s
tudent, and since being in this whirlwind of a conundrum, I find it helpful to get a deeper understanding.”
“I’m with you there. Like I said before though, my belief did give me some comfort, However, I was also confused as to how the world could get into such a state. It did cast some doubts for me.”
“That’s understandable.”
With this Sam manoeuvred himself upright, stretched his front legs out in front of him, gave in to a massive yawn and stretched his lengthy body to the maximum. Ed looked on, marvelling at the size of the proud fox.
“You know, for a minute there I’d forgotten I was a tortoise.”
Ed twisted his head and neck from side to side and moved forward slightly before continuing, “I’m assuming from my last movements that tortoises can’t yawn?”
“Can’t help you with that one, my friend,” replied Sam as he settled back down into his comfortable recline, reaching his head down the side of his body to bite away at some fleas with his sharp, white teeth. They sat silently for a while, digesting their conversation.
“Anyway, there’s only one important question right now, and that is how the hell did we end up in this mess? Is it something to do with our beliefs or is there something else at work here?”
Ed looked at Sam as inquisitively as a tortoise possibly could.
The fox’s ears pricked up as his head came to attention on his brown furry neck, sprouting elegantly from his relaxed horizontal body.
“In all honestly, probably not. We both seem to have very different experiences and beliefs. I can’t see anything in there to suggest that.”
“I agree,” replied Ed before continuing, “I might, however, have been ‘praying to the wrong one’, as you mentioned earlier. We can’t exclude that.
The more I think about it, the less I consider religion as a possible factor. There are just too many factions and religions to choose from. There must be something else.”
“I agree. Can you remember your last moments yet, Ed?”
“Well, to a point but not really. It’s sketchy. I was driving back to London from a business trip. I owned a company that was doing quite well. I was a bit of a wacky inventor and some of my stuff started to get noticed.”
“What sort of stuff?” enquired the fox, sitting upright.
“I had invented numerous things that hadn’t really taken off, but then I invented a really clever unit that melted snow off your shoes before going indoors. It was basically a solar powered box that you would step into. The base was a pressure plate and the weight on it would turn it on, gently close the four sides above your ankles, and streams of hot air would be pumped onto the top, sides and backs of your feet. There were also jets coming out from the footplate underneath to clean the soles. The snow would melt off and disperse through drainage pipes on one side of the device and the feet would be thoroughly warmed in the sixty second cycle. It would then open up, and after you got out it cleaned itself with high powered water jets coming out of all the pipes excluding the footplate. It was a big hit in Russia and Scandinavia but the real deal maker for me was the solar power system I used. With the use of mirrors, I devised a way to multiply tenfold the power generated by solar panels. That led to the development of my company, ‘CubiZ’, which developed this technology to the next level. It ended up with a translucent cube structure with multiple solar cells and mirrors inside. With the use of the mirrors, the light would be trapped going between the cells numerous times, magnifying the charge. I started doing little portable ones which had a cable and one, two or three plugs as an extension. Then they started to get bigger and bigger until I merged with another company specialising in power generators and we started to develop much more ambitious devices. We had got to the point where music festivals such as Glastonbury and Sonicville were using them for most of their onsite power.”
“Fantastic ideas. You must have been worth a few quid then?”
“Well I’d ploughed the majority of it back into the company. Developing the larger units was very troublesome. They would sometimes overheat, even melt in some instances. I was comfortable for sure, but it would have been a few years until I could really have sat back with the mattress full of cash. Things were starting to go well though. As it happens, I became a tortoise instead.”
“Well look on the bright side, at least you’re still naturally powered,” said the fox as he lay back down into reclined luxury on the twigs and leaves.
“Yes, that’s some compensation. Better laughing than crying - that’s if tortoises and foxes could laugh.”
“Anyway, back to my previous question. What can you remember about that last trip?”
“Just flashes, like people holding up big cardboard backed pictures for a second or so and then they’re gone. Snippets and glimpses. I definitely remember getting in the car and driving the 303. I ended up on the M3 heading into London. I had numerous annoying texts coming in on my iPhone. That’s all I can remember.”
“In all likelihood you probably crashed your car because you were sending a bloody text. How idiotic can you be? What age were you?”
“I was in my late thirties. Yes, it’s pointing towards something as ridiculous as that. To be honest, if it was a car crash then I’m really glad I can’t remember it.”
“I was in my early fifties. It’s good having this opportunity to discuss things because you can rule certain things out. We were different ages, different religious beliefs and died in completely different ways. It’s very important for us to discuss as much as we can in the next day or so. I realised how important this is after many rebirths. Until I met you, I hadn't met another Transient like I did on my first visit. You are also very lucky to have met me first time, Ed.”
“I can see that.”
“Each encounter is not to be taken for granted. Make the most of it, try and find out if there is any common ground, any rhyme and reason why this might be happening,” replied Sam, twisting and turning in the twigs and leaves, trying to convince himself against the odds that the new position would be more comfortable than the old. A brief silence ensued, pristine and still.
“How did you meet your end then?” enquired Ed after a few minutes of watching the fox make minor adjustments to his recumbent position.
“Man, if you think sending a text whilst driving is stupid then you should hear my story.”
“I’m listening,” replied Ed wryly.
“Well, I had gone on holiday with my wife, Elise to Marrakech in Morocco. It was such a great place and so different from everywhere I’d been before. The souks and bustling markets with their colourful produce and beautiful carvings, the architecture, the busy crowded streets and squares, it was something else. We went off for lunch to this incredible local restaurant in the depths of the little alleys and walkways. It was on top of a building in the most unlikely of scruffy little streets but was a really refined place with haute cuisine and fine wines. We stayed there for a couple of hours, eating, chatting and drinking, having a thoroughly fine time. My wife read through her guide book, planning where we would go next, and I played with my new camera that I had got especially for the trip.
“Once our food had gone down and we had rounded off everything with a nice Moroccan coffee, we left the restaurant. It was such a world apart that I had completely forgotten about the busy alleys outside. We went down the stairs and out into the mania, momentarily shocked having left the calmness of the restaurant. We started to walk out into the alley and started to wind our way back to the main market area for a bit more shopping. People’s road manners there were a little lacking, and if you weren’t careful you could easily get knocked by a speeding bike or cart. I looked up and saw one of these carts, pulled by a donkey heading towards me at quite a lick. It was a bizarre sight because the guy driving it looked like the grim reaper with a black hooded gown draped over his whole being. He stared down at the donkey’s arse, not concerned at all with the people he was careering past. I immediately whipped out my new ca
mera and started to snap away to get a picture. I thought I had plenty of time to grab the shot from the front and then jump sideways, even though Elise started to shout anxiously for me to get out of the way.
“I snapped two quick shots and just as I was putting the camera down and about to dive sideways, I felt her arm on my shoulder. At the exact same second, I saw that there was a huge scaffold pole poking out from the front of the wooden cart. It came out from the rear, beside the driver, over the top of the donkey and was protuberant by about two feet. Suddenly it was as though I was in front of Lancelot himself in full flow. Sadly for me, the new camera had made it seem as though it was much further away I didn’t have time to react and got smacked in the head with the scaffold bar and then trampled to death and run over by the cart with its wobbly wooden wheels. Definitely not an impressive way to go, killed by a fucking donkey in Morocco.”
“That’s insane. It is almost an achievement.”
“Yes, not one I am proud of though. It can’t have been too pleasant for Elise either. God knows how she dealt with that mess. I suppose she must have had to get the body back to the UK and everything. A very nasty situation, and all because I was a fucking idiot.”
“You can’t blame yourself though, Sam. Not entirely.”
“Well I’m afraid I do. I hope she’s okay now, maybe with someone else in a new relationship and getting on with her life. It hurts not to know.”
“I can see that would be hard. Did you remember the incident when you came round?” asked Ed.
“Not exactly, just fragments. It all gradually assembles itself though, like a magnetic jigsaw that explodes and then patiently reassembles in the right order. I’m just resigned to it now. There are too many other things to keep me distracted. I must keep moving forward,” stated Sam with an air of sadness in his voice.
“Onward and upward as a Transient, jumping from animal to animal,” he added.
“Indeed! I have a lot to learn about that, Sam.”
“That’s for sure. Anyway, are you hungry? I’m going to pop out and get some provisions. Before you ask, I’m not going to get any slugs or snails for you, so don’t even think about it. I’m going to assume you require a vegetarian meal and will cater accordingly.”
