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The Virtue of Fortitude; Brueghel the Elder, Pieter, c.1560

“Brothers and Sisters, take no fear when the natural is overcome with the artificial. It is simply the creation of the overman.”

Thus spoke Fred as he departed company with the Seven Somnambulists and entered a large hall.

Fred was walking amongst contradictions of steam and chilling waters.

And these were contained in machinations, non-beings, no hearts.

They opened and closed their maws with the force of dragons.

These un-beings, hoping also, but hardly ever successful,

at masticating man’s extremities; right and left.

These were creatures of the creators.

They were the product of producers.

They had no life of their own,

but were the life work,

of the gifted.

 

“Yea to those men of discovery.”

“Yea to those men of courage.”

“Yea to those men of talent.”

Fred uttered yea unto them three times.

 

Fred asked of the only creator made available to him,

“Archie – – – – – – -who dreamed of such things?”

And Archie responded; “We elders did.”

Fred spoke no more that night.

Surrounded by the birth,

of the imagination,

of men greater,

than he.

Fred had no words that could match the thoughts of such profoundness.

 

Kings, lords, and crusaders were these overmen.

Their inventions could fall to the nay-sayers.

Their health could fall to the miasma,

and exhumations of  poison ether.

Their limbs and eyes could fall,

to the unnatural powers of,

what they had wrought,

on this earth.

 

No fear of their own safety had they.

For creativeness was not unlike,

a young woman tempting,

them to her virgin bed.

“Creativeness has carried these men away to their mental and physical heights.”

So spoke Fred

Tomorrow: “Without Heart”