Astride the Mammoth
Our Paleolithic wetware rides, wide-eyed, astride the screaming mammoth.
Our beast code is binary.
More than one. Less than three. The titanic tyranny of Two.
Two crude flinty tools of impulse and meaning, carved by oozing glands with hormone bursts: Begin and End. Start and Stop. Fight and Flight.
We wield the stark opposites, one in each hand: Left and Right. Up and Down. Yes and No.
Two magma certainties pulse in the bestial logic of celestial rhythm: Night and Day. Hot and Cold. Chaos and Order.
Ethical totems emerge in the huddle by the fire pits after feasts of torn meat: Right and Wrong. Good and Bad. Black and White.
Two. Two eyes scan the velvet veldt for stalking monsters and quivering prey in the hissing grasses.
Two eyes that, too, see everything but Two eyes: Me and You. In and Out. Us and Them.
Two wriggling DNA strands brew the species of faith that flourish and pass into extinction: Why and Because. Good and Bad. Heaven and Hell.
Idol gods make man in the image of their own bilateral symmetry: Vengeful and Merciful. Angel and Demon. Certain and Mysterious.
Only two. A Trinity crashes the beast code. One too many to chew between upper jaws of feeling and lower grinding jaws of thought.
Two primal sparks of system integrity: Zero and One. Plus and Minus. Fact and Fiction.
More than two is too too many. Too terrifying.
Our Paleolithic binary wetware rides, wide-eyed, astride the screaming mammoth, an accelerating abstraction, a wooly titan of wet tangled wires infested by billions of fingers on keyboards.
Only Two. Our ancient tools carve useless scars on stampeding landscapes. Too fast for Two wet, blurring eyes. Too too fast for only Two.
The lonely keyboards clatter, dry-winged crickets keening for soulmates in the darkness: Sound and Silence. Start and Stop. Begin and End.