“What do I need to do?”


“We’ve talked about this before.”

“It’s a long story.  Are you prepared to listen?”

“Is there another choice?”

“There wasn’t always Rum on RythmaRymosthesis.  It is thought the River of Rum is elusive.”

“What do you take me for?  I know the River’s a metaphor.  I can sense the truth: who are you fighting against?  Who’s the rebellious faction you must combat for more Rum?”

“There is a river.  It is real.  It runs deep under the crust of this planet, sometimes not so deep.”

“Sure, and—.”

“—I’m a policeman.  I speak the truth.  Stop interrupting!  See, bird, we have to hear the River’s gurgling to know its whereabouts.  Trouble is, as soon as it hears our approach, it changes its course to avoid us.  Our task is to guess where it may go and set up containers within its nearest vicinity to collect its golden liquid.  Success is sporadic.  We can’t dig deep enough to attempt to redirect it nor to create a river bed we could follow and collect from; the River has a life of its own.  It is erratic.”

“Rivers that think, err.  I—”

“—It is untamed and disorderly.  It is rebellious.”

“It knows what you do for a living, huh?”

“Sure does.  Its very proximity to creatures who want it and need it energizes it, makes it feel wanted and alive.”

“Gimme me a new pair of wings and we’ll talk some other time, will you?”

To be continued…


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