The Eater of Thumbs and Hooked Beak
The Eater of Thumbs ❧ The silhouette leaves a trail of bone dust in its path, like the shimmering markings of a snail. It cannot cross the threshold of a household unbidden, but windows left open are like the open petals of a flower to a hungering bee. It crawls inside with oily fingers, snout flaring, multifaceted eyes narrowed. It crawls out with slick palms, eyes green, and the edges of its mouth dripping.
Hooked Beak ❧ It eventually became clear that direct access to the brainstem was only way to progress. Friendship, hope, love, the soul's wings' deep fluttering -- what are these but programs infiltrating the transistors of a conscious computer?
It had become too easy to ignore everything, everyone. We were like dwellers in a swamp of algae who evolved the inability to see green. The question then became: can we evolve a deafness to what our own body is screaming?