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the long dusk - part 11

August 1, 2028 - Jacksonville, Florida 

King Big Daddy and I have discussed religion at great length. I was surprised that he had an even more cynical interpretation of it than me. For him, the purpose of religion is not just power, but humiliation. Power is the ability to make people do things they don't want to do, but humiliation is a kind of mind control where people are afraid of their own thoughts lest they say the wrong thing. So a leader should not be content with mere obedience. Instead, his subjects should be unable to even contemplate resistance. The more absurd the humiliation, the better it works. Thus, the king ensures the loyalty of his inner circle by giving them the dubious honor of pulling his Cadillac through the streets during regular parades. He explained that tyranny is the key to peace and stability. The black man is different, as he likes to say. He is like a wheelbarrow; he must be pushed. 

He is puzzled that I took Lee in as an ally. I said any friend is better than no friend, and anyway, it's easier to keep a friend than it is to destroy an enemy. "Ah, but what happens when friends become enemies?", he asks. "How do you stop that?" I answer that you can't always; all you can do is make yourself stronger than your enemy. He asked what is the greatest strength, which I thought was a foolish question. A hammer is not better than a knife. It all depends on what you're trying to do. He says the greatest tool is fear, and the greatest fear is that of the unknown. Death is fearful not because it is permanent, but because no one knows what comes after, he says. In the same way, night, darkness, and the future bring fear because we cannot see what is out there, he says. I reply that those things are knowable to some degree. We can make light to see and use logic to predict. He sees these as white man ideas. He grew up in Haiti [an island nation in the Caribbean Sea from the Before Time] and was a young man when he came to Florida.

A delegation returned from Manatee Springs, and with them came a number of black people from there, perhaps all of them. It seems they would prefer to live among their own kind with the king than stay with us. The king found this hilarious. They gave up their safe, comfortable lives to live with brute like him. It doesn't make much of a difference to me. Although I'd prefer to keep them in our tribe to strengthen us, to lose them is not crippling. Lee was particularly pleased by this turn of events, as it vindicated everything he's been saying all along. In private, he has told me that our hosts are clearly inferior people, fit only for slavery or extermination. I tried to convince him otherwise by citing alligators. Although gators are far from the smartest animals, they've been around for far longer than people. They outlasted the dinosaurs and will probably outlast us. The same is true for sharks. "Then maybe we should be more like gators and sharks if we want to live", he replied. On the surface, it was a sound argument. It spoke to my personal experience.

I was struck by the general cheerfulness of the king's subjects. They had less than our tribe, but it did not seem to bother them at all. The children were generally left unsupervised, though they were punished harshly and without much effect from time to time. Beatings with a belt were standard. Adult criminals were usually beaten or stoned to death by angry mobs when caught, and the corpses were burned. People accused of crimes or those who had disputes went before the king, who openly accepted bribes. Thus, it was clear to all that the king and his rich friends could do whatever they wanted, though the king took particular pleasure in torturing rich people who displeased him. So in a bizarre, chaotic way, their society functioned, and the people in it accepted it as not just inevitable, but desirable. In fairness, I was impressed by their generosity and practicality. Whatever problem arose, if there was an obvious solution, they implemented it immediately. If not, they shrugged their shoulders and ignored it. It was a combination of pragmatism and fatalism.

I asked the king what happens when he dies. He said one of the many men claiming to be his son will fight it out, though he has a favorite he has been grooming to be his heir and carry on his name. He knows he has sons even if he is not quite sure who they all are. He says that he lives for today, in the here and now. It may be that his tribe will be wiped out someday, but he will be dead and gone if that ever happens, if it happens at all. I asked him if he thinks there is an afterlife or immortal soul. He said he sees no point in wondering or arguing about unprovable things, which I agreed with. If he had the choice, he would like to be a powerful ghost that his descendants could pray to and beg for favors. It was amusing that he hoped to be a dictator even after he was dead. He asked me the same question. I answered that I'd like to spend eternity walking around Manatee Springs on a cool autumn night, looking up at the stars, and giving bits of advice to the dreaming mortals who crossed my path. 

With the arrival of the migrants from Manatee Springs, the king said Lee and I are free to go. Before we left, I gave the king a firm handshake, wished him a long life, and hoped that we would never go to war. In response, he simply smiled and laughed. "Oh, how the white man loves to plan and plan", he said. "But whether you're a king or a street sweeper, sooner or later, you dance with the grim reaper."

September 1, 2028 - Manatee Springs, Florida

Lee and I returned to Manatee Springs and informed Lord Humungous (hereafter LH, how tired I am of that pretentious name) of all we saw and heard in Jacksonville. LH wishes to attack immediately in order to wipe out conquer the tribe and take the survivors as slaves, wives, and concubines. I explained the myriad problems such a move would entail. In private conversations with Lee, I've said that it's clear he wants us both dead, as he's already gotten what he wants from Lee and I remain the most serious threat to his power. As a stalling tactic, Lee and I have drawn up detailed plans which I'm certain LH will endlessly fuss over. His urge to micromanage is something I can use against him.

Meanwhile, LH has offered me various women of our tribe as well as the right to claim as many as I want from those he intends to capture from Jacksonville. He's good at reading people, so he assumes he's found my weakness. At times, I've craved female companionship, but I'll be damned if I stoop so low as to be a lapdog to an oaf like LH. With Lee and some others confidantes, I've discussed how to eliminate LH. If he could be convinced to resign or go into exile, that would be best, otherwise there is no alternative but to kill him. In that case, I'm not sure whether it should be done covertly or otherwise covered up. Another possibility is to claim I had a mystical vision or dream whose only interpretation is that LH must abdicate. He's good enough at reading between the lines to take the hint, but there's also the risk that he'll dig in his heels.

One thing is for certain: time is running out to make a decision, and this is a kill-or-be-killed situation. A war with Jacksonville could be disastrous. I can't let that happen. Too many people would be killed or wounded, and it would leave us vulnerable to attack besides wasting precious ammo. Lee and his followers are firmly on my side now, and I have the support of most of the other factions. I'm not sure how the followers of LH will react if he is killed. They would be unhappy if he resigned or was forced to, but they would accept the result. I want to minimize the damage to my relationship with them. In my efforts to bolster my plotting, I've managed to dig up some dirt on LH and his clique. It seems they are notoriously corrupt and lascivious. They exploited my absence to feather their nests in various ways, including exempting themselves from the essential work of hunting, fishing, and gardening. 

The more I think about it, the mystical vision gambit seems like the best option. I will claim to have a vision of our tribe's defeat with LH as the leader and then a vision of the Mother Earth deity pointing at the noose we hung months ago. The message is clear enough without being blunt. Challenging LH to a duel wouldn't work. I can't defeat him with either a stick or bare hands. He's gotten paranoid and has a group of bodyguards around him at all times, so is assassination is also out. Perhaps the vision gambit could lead to a public trial. He's sure to be found guilty, in which case he'll either be executed or forced into exile. Once LH is out of the way, it should smooth sailing, though I suspect Lee will turn on me at some point. It'd be great if I could orchestrate it so that they eliminate each other, but right now, Lee is the powerful ally I have.

The weather is getting cooler again. I suspect we'll have our last harvest of the year next month. Hopefully the winter will not be so harsh. Our tribe has a number of toddlers now. It's an open question of how many of them will see their fifth birthday without the benefit of vaccines, but all we can do is try our best to keep them alive with good hygiene and proper nutrition. It's a chicken and egg situation almost. We need people to rebuild civilization, but population growth requires various technologies that are the result of civilization. Letting LH continue to rule will just lead our tribe into barbarism and stagnation, possibly even extinction. We can't afford that risk, not after all we've been through and accomplished. Still, the man deserves a fair trial. A system of justice is also part of civilization. Mercy to the guilty is cruelty to the innocent, as a wise man once said.

As for our hypothetical attack Jacksonville, I envisioned sending a few hundred of our warriors out on bicycles. They would all be armed with our best guns with Lee and his inner circle as the vanguard. From what I could tell, King Big Daddy has an army at least as large as ours, though I don't know their level of experience, readiness, or how many guns they have. Those are some of the reasons why a war with them is such an insane idea. The moral implications are even worse as we just started diplomatic relations and agreed for the safe passage of migrants. Attacking them now would be a serious blow to our credibility and make it much harder to establish peaceful relationships with other tribes. Although I suspect we'll go to war with them eventually, I'd prefer to postpone that for as long as possible. Time is on our side as our numbers grow and Lee's reloading equipment builds up our ammo supply. 

I suspect Lee will turn on me at some point, but again, I'd prefer to delay that indefinitely. Despite his harsh views, he's a practical man and an asset to the group. If anything happened to him, it would be hard to pacify his followers so that they don't leave or rebel. I understand LH's eagerness to use them as cannon fodder to get rid of them. Unfortunately for him, Lee and his followers have already surmised that. 

the troll's necklace

The troll was unsure what to do with the magic invulnerability necklace. The land was at peace, even the townsfolk and the formerly murderous dragon. The troll thought that the necklace was a a truly great gift which must only go to the worthiest person. Cautiously, he informed the king of the spared city to send forth their greatest warriors. Some were indeed very brave and strong, but something was lacking. There is a kind of courage that only comes out of weakness and being scoffed at. So, the troll beseeched the king to send out his daughter the princess to be trained as a warrior. The king agreed and was surprised at his daughter's eagerness to be trained for battle.

The troll took the princess to his cave and explained to her the nature of necklace. Yes, it would keep her alive no matter what, but that was not enough for victory. She needed to learn a variety of weapons, potions, magic spells, and disguises in order to be victorious and truly reach her potential. Above all, warned the troll, the princess must be very careful not to be corrupted by a witch. There were not many witches, but they were extremely clever, patient, destructive, and dangerous. The princess asked the troll how she might recognize a witch. To that, the troll said witches are masters of disguise, but they only speak to those that seem brave and powerful. Thus, the troll told the princess now warrior to be humble and plain so as not to attract the attention of a witch. Being humble and plain is not easy for a girl raised as a princess, but she was determined. She heated up some oil in a frying pan, poured water on it, and let the hot, spattering grease burn and scar her beautiful face. This became her permanent disguise.

The troll was shocked but pleased at her determination and so saw she was truly worthy of the invulnerability necklace. It told her to venture to a city in the next country over and pose as a beggar. The wicked king of the city had a great vault which contained some unknown treasure guarded by magic. Only the wicked king had the key to open it. The wizard who was friends with the troll desired this treasure greatly and so pressed his friend for help. The troll, in turn, pressed on the former princess. This sort of thing is one of the dangers of friendship. Beware of friends. Sooner or later, they will want something from you. The former princess, unaware of these machinations, set out to the strange city and learn of its underworld. Now, it is hard to befriend criminals without being like them, so the former princess became a minor thief and spent some time in the city dungeon. There, she learned more about gambling, lying, stealing, and other un-princess-like things. Often, she wished to return to her easy life as a princess, but that was impossible now.

In the dungeon, she met an experienced thief, or so he said. He told her that in order to steal the key from the king, she must sing him to sleep while he is lying in bed. Even the most paranoid king does not keep guards in his room when a maiden is singing to him. As soon she sings the last note, said the thief, she must rummage for the secret key the king wears around his neck and immediately hide it on her person. The sleeping king will not notice it is missing, but she will surely be searched by the guards, unless she plans on distracting or seducing them as well. The former princess listened to the experienced thief's lessons with great care and practiced the necessary skills constantly until she was released. 

When she was let out of the dungeon, the marred princess worked her way into the king's castle. She started as scullery maid in the kitchen and came to know the names and habits of all the servants. By this, she also came to know the king's favorite food and drink. Later, she would sneak and hide at the entrance of the great hall to eavesdrop on the king's evening entertainment. From this, she learned that the king enjoyed poetry and harp music. For many months, she wrote poetry and practiced the harp until she could play it so well it was as if she had been born with a harp in her hands. 

One night, as she waited at the threshold of the hall, she could tell the king was annoyed and disappointed at the evening's entertainment. The king was once a proud and stout knight, but now with age, he was flabby, frail, and fickle, almost like an overgrown child. Aha, now's my chance, thought the marred princess. She remembered when she had been reluctantly pushed out the city gates to put a garland of flowers on the killer dragon, and that experience gave her the confidence to navigate this much less dangerous experience. All the more so since now she was wearing the troll's magic invulnerability necklace. Confidently, she took her place at the harp, and began to play a soothing, somber melody. Soon, the king's eyes began to droop, but he liked her music so much that he ordered his guards to bring the harp and her to his bedroom.

And so she played on as the king drifted off to sleep. When the coast was clear, she felt under his pajamas for the key, found it, and very carefully removed it from him. The hard part was over, or so she thought. It was the dead of night and the guards were patrolling, but still she crept toward the secret vault with the key. At last, she reached the vault, but there was no keyhole. But then, she saw a mirror in the wall with an inscription under it, which said, "SHOW ME BEAUTY". At first, the princess was heartbroken, as she had scarred her face on purpose. Ah, but the key! Surely the king who made the vault thinks it is beautiful. So she held the key in front of the mirror, and the vault groaned as it opened. Inside were heaps of gold coins and jewels, but above them all was a single frayed scroll, which she snatched before escaping the castle. 

sulforaphane as an alternative to dimercaprol (chelation)?

I don't know about the heavy metal binding properties of sulforaphane, but it is worth some study. 

Sulforaphane as a potential therapeutic agent: a comprehensive analysis of clinical trials and mechanistic insights - PMC

Sulforaphane alleviates cadmium-induced toxicity in human mesenchymal stem cells through POR and TNFSF10 genes expression - ScienceDirect

The induction of metallothionein by sulforaphane reduces iron toxicity via Nrf2

the magic pen and the troll

After a few centuries in heaven, the righteous man became a bit absent-minded. He forgot about the magic pen, and one day it fell out of his pocket and down to earth. On the way down, it hit a flying dragon on the head, bounced off, and landed in front of a troll. For the dragon, the sudden blow was the last straw, and so it flew off to incinerate a village to vent its frustrations. You never know what random event will make someone snap. The troll picked up the pen and examined it. Trolls aren't the brightest bunch, and this particular one was about as sharp as a marble. Even so, it took the pen back to its cave and began to write with it, for once a kindly wizard had taught the troll how to write in hope of making it tame. Because the troll was simpleminded, it wrote the kinds of food it wanted to eat. To the troll's surprise and great joy, all the food it had written about magically appeared around him in the cave. The troll ate well and lived in leisure for a long time. 

Alas, the dragon became angry once more, and this time it decided it devour the troll. Dragons do not like the taste of trolls, but sometimes they eat them anyway simply out of spite. Some creatures are just ornery, and the only sensible thing to do is stay away from them. Anyway, the dragon stomped over to the troll's cave, but just before it was able to snatch the troll with its jaws, the troll wrote his wizard friend's name in the hope that he would appear and save him. Poof, the stunned wizard appeared, waved his wand, and turned the dragon to stone. This is the sort of thing that happens when you anger the wrong person. The grateful troll explained what he had done with pen and offered it to the wizard, who pondered what to do. The wizard realized the power of the pen and knew he would be tempted to misuse it. He told the troll to keep the pen, but only to use it for things it needed. If the troll was ever in doubt, it should use the pen to summon the wizard for advice. The wizard bade the troll farewell and departed.

The troll began to feel sorry for the dragon turned to stone but was also worried about changing it back. As a compromise, it used the pen to first shrink the mighty dragon to the size of a chicken, then bring it back to life. The shrunken dragon looked up at the troll with an ashamed look. The troll had showed it more mercy than it had shown to many other creatures. The wheel of fortune often turns without warning, so it is wise to always follow the golden rule. The dragon asked the troll if it could stay in its cave, as it would not be safe roaming about in a land full of people eager to kill a dragon. "Well, that is your own fault isn't it", said the troll, trying not to add insult to injury. But the simpleminded, goodhearted troll took pity on the puny dragon, patted it on the head, and gave him food and a soft bed. The wizard had taught the troll the importance of mercy, and that the best way to defeat an enemy is to turn them into a friend.

The troll and the dragon lived comfortably and in peace for many years. Once in a while, the dragon would leave the cave and fly to and fro above the land, and report back what it saw to the troll. The dragon felt safe doing this because the troll had conjured a charmed necklace which protected it from harm. One day during its regular patrol, the dragon saw a great army marching on their toward the nearest city. Surely, they intend to attack and loot the city, and any other that come across, thought the dragon. The dragon wanted to warn the townsfolk, but knew it would not be welcome, and though it could not be harmed, the townsfolk might capture it and keep it prisoner. So the dragon flew back to the troll's cave and told the troll about all it saw. The troll wanted to help, but since it was not sure what to do, it summoned the wizard and asked for advice.

The wizard looked the dragon up and down. "Hmm, I think you have learned your lesson", said the wizard. "You should be returned to your original size. When the army is just outside the city gates, you should fly down and scare them away with your flame breath. The townsfolk will see that you saved them and you will be a hero to them." The dragon took off the charmed necklace, for it would no longer need it. The troll used the magic pen to re-embiggen the dragon, which flew off and did as the wizard instructed. The army turned tail and ran as soon as they saw the giant dragon shooting flames from its mouth. The dragon landed at a polite distance, turned to face the town and bowed down low, for it wished to show it was humble. After much prodding, a very nervous princess exited the city and put a garland of flowers on the dragon's head. At that point, the townsfolk thought things could go either way, so they hedged their bet. But to their relief, the princess was neither eaten nor abducted, and there was much rejoicing. 

The troll was pleased with the outcome of his good deed, and the wizard remarked that the troll had grown much wiser, a rare achievement among those ignoble creatures. There was still the question of what to do with the magic pen. Someone else would get it eventually, and the wizard wanted to make sure it went to the right person. And so, the wizard told the dragon to swallow the pen, and to only regurgitate it if someone told it a riddle it couldn't answer. Dragons, of course, love riddles, so the pen was sure to stay in the dragon's belly for a long time. As a reward, the wizard said the dragon could eat anyone who asked it a riddle it could answer. Thus, it would be ages before anyone used the pen again, and that person would need to be both brave and clever. The troll thought of what to do with the charmed necklace, but that is a story for another time. 

the devil's pen

The devil went to his workshop and pondered an infernal design to compensate for his latest failure. You can't keep a bad man down, as the old saying goes. Aside from the wisdom of ages, he had a vast assortment of diabolical tools and materials, as well as the labor of his many demon minions. How long he toiled, who can say. The devil rarely rushes as he has all the time in the world. At last, his work was complete. He emerged from his workshop with his most fiendish contraption yet: a cursed pen. Most things written with the pen would come true, and people would believe any words written by the pen. The devil walked the earth in search of the best victim, as he always does. He came upon a poor farmer and chatted him up. "Here my good man", said the devil to the farmer. "This magic pen will solve all your problems", said the devil and explained further what it could do. Now the farmer, though poor, was no fool. He knew not to trust the devil but thought that maybe he could play with fire without getting burnt. He curiosity got the better of him, and he traded his soul for the magic pen. 

The farmer wasted no time. He wrote down all his wishes as fast as he could think of them, and most of them came true. He became a wealthy, respected, powerful king. But soon enough, he hungered for even more. So he set out to change everyone's beliefs. The pen couldn't make him God, but it could convince people he was. And so the formerly poor farmer wrote down that he was God on a piece of paper and showed it to all the kings and priests he could find. In short order, he was the emperor of earth, the most powerful man who ever lived, and had control over life and death. Alas, the pen would not make him immortal, and as he aged and drew closer to death, the devil came to visit and taunt him, saying that not only would the formerly poor farmer die and go to hell, but also his blasphemy would cause chaos and send countless others to hell. For if everyone believed a certain man was God, and that man died, then that to them would be the same thing as God being dead. All hope and faith would be gone from the world, and the devil would have the final victory.

What was the former farmer to do? He decided he would use the pen to conjure the most righteous man in history and then give him the pen. He spent his last days describing his successor's many virtues, and that very man sprang from the page as soon as he set down the pen. In the final moments of his life, the former farmer instructed the man he had just manifested on the nature and abilities of the pen and urged him to undo his mistakes. The devil came to collect the former farmer's soul and taunt the successor. However virtuous the man might be, he was sure to do evil even by accident, the devil said. The conjured man ignored the devil's insults, which is of course the wisest thing to do. He sat down at a desk and began to write. First, he made sure that he would be safe from harm and have a long life in good health. This is most reasonable thing anyone can wish or pray for. He also made it so no one, not even the devil, could take the pen from him. Next, he would carefully write about how his master had been mistaken. This was tricky since everybody in world believed the former farmer had been God, and that with his death, God was dead. The righteous man traveled the world and showed everyone he met little bits of truth he'd written with the pen. 

One such bit was "a man who dies cannot be God". As he showed this to more and more people, the blasphemy spread by the former farmer began to wither. Even so, the world had become full of evil, worse than it's ever been. So he used the pen to make the same phrase appear written in the sky with clouds. This miracle was enough to set the world back to just about the way it was before the pen had ever been used, maybe even a little bit better. At this, the devil stormed up out of the depths of hell and demanded the pen back. Now the righteous man was in a bind. If he gave the pen back, the devil would just give it to someone else, and the same thing would happen. The pen was indestructible and would never run out of ink. For you see, the devil always plans ahead. It was no use to hide the pen from the devil either. Fortunately for the righteous man, he knew the devil could not steal the pen, else he would have done so already. Still, the righteous man would not live forever, and so he needed to come up with a plan. Would it work to conjure another equally righteous man and give the pen to him?

The righteous man thought about what to do for many years. He had built up a following as a minor prophet, with just the right amount of authority and number of followers. It's important not to overdo things. Most evil is just good taken too an extreme. As more time passed, he felt the end of his life was near, and he was still unsure of what to do. At that moment, an angel came and whispered in his ear. Angels rarely interfere except to nudge things in the right direction. The righteous man used the pen to do one last miracle. He made it so that it would be written in the sky with clouds: "Write only with ink!" This was clever because people are naturally contrary and tend to do the opposite of what they're commanded. And so it came to pass that a great many people, including all the ones the devil could tempt, stopped writing with pens and invented all other sorts of writing implements. The righteous man died and took the magic pen to heaven. That is the only place safe from the devil. At this, the devil gave up trying to get the pen back, and it was no use to make another one.