Susceptible By Design

They walked leisurely along, the sand beneath their feet still wet and firm from the recent high tide, the sun hanging low in the sky leaving a golden, glittering path out to sea toward the horizon. A strong breeze suddenly slapped them in their faces and they instinctively turned away, though no sand was kicked up. They both noticed, simultaneously, the flicker of light reflected from something silver resting on a large rock a few meters away. They looked at each other, and then started toward it.

The taller one picked it up and examined it. "A beautiful pocketwatch, it is," he said. "Still working, too. What time is it according to yours?"

"Ten past five."

"Hmm... exactly three hours behind."

The shorter man turned back to face the setting sun. "I read once that just as the watch must have had a watchmaker, the universe itself, being infinitely more complex, must have had a designer."

"So then, design is top-down. Someone created the watch, and something created that someone... that's it then?"

"Basically, yes."

The taller man slipped the watch into his jacket's breast pocket. "I guess that leaves the obvious question of who created the something that created the someone who created the watch."

"I suppose..."

"Well then, it never ends, does it?"

"I'll tell you what I think; the universe created that watch, and I don't need to know about, nor do I care about, what created the universe."

The taller man furrowed his brow. "I'm trying to get my head around what you're saying..."

"Well, to put it simply, over the countless years following the creation of the universe, and that act of creation is of no concern to me as I've said, simple forces at work have brought about the complexity in the universe that we see today, one aspect of that complexity being the product of evolution we know as homo sapiens, who eventually came to create things, like watches."

"And, here we are."

"Yes. Here we are."

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The Cradle

There are 3 million moving parts in a Boeing 777. Three million little (or not so little) things that you don't control.

Who's your daddy?

There are thousands of food processing plants in your country, with several hundred thousand employees working night and day to ensure that there's food on your table tonight.

Come give momma some sugar...

He edged slightly forward, every muscle straining. Unconsciously, he held his breath. It was time to add to his own burden while laying down that of another.
Under his foot a dry leaf cracked, and that was all it took. The chance was gone, and it would likely be a few days before another came. His stomach rumbled and he closed his eyes.

And he prayed. Prayed for a blessing, a gift from the heavens... anything that would ease the endless suffering.

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Do I Know You?

In another life, I had a wife, a house and a neurotic dog.

Journeys across the cerebral cortex reveal real connections between the present and the past, but travels back in time always see me entering the life of a different person. Surely, that person must be dead now. It's clear that some part of him was preserved and transported into the future and now occupies a small region of my consciousness. However, control is never an issue and he remains a guest doomed to roam the hallways and corridors only to poke his head out once in awhile from the shadows to remind me of various things. Particularly, of the consequences. Always with the consequences.

It's unbalanced. We can travel back in time and witness and feel, but we can never interact with the past. Yet, our past selves travel to the future all the time and have a direct influence on our present. In fact, if we're to grow as people, we require this. Some of us have found ways to close those portals, but most have to live with the connections.

As for me... lately I've been a bit obsessed with looking back through time and wondering if I didn't just arrive here in the present in some unexplainable fashion, as if there's a disconnect back there somewhere. I see that guy with the wife, the house and the neurotic dog...

But, I don't think we know each other.