Incident Along Fantasy Way The Invention The wind moans across the gray plains Like a thing in pain And will not be comforted. This stretch of road is little more than a trail Not scheduled for paving For another ten thousand years. Behind a crude wagon Four men labor patiently -- Heaving it up onto the corners of its square wheels To fall to the next side with a resounding crash. Over and over the process is repeated As they move slowly along. Sometimes they talk among themselves: "Have you seen the wagon the North Tribe is using?" Heave ... CRASH! "You mean the one with the wheels set at angles to each other?" Heave ... CRASH! "Yes. When one wheel is resting flat, the opposite one is up on a corner." Heave ... CRASH! "That makes it easier to push, right?" Heave ... CRASH! "A lot easier, but it has other problems." Heave ... CRASH! "The Hill People say it isn't safe on a slope." Heave ... CRASH! "That's no concern on the plains ... " Heave ... CRASH! "... but the axle does have to turn with the wheels ..." Heave ... CRASH! "... so the fastening to the frame is complicated ..." Heave ... CRASH! "... and the wheels have to be rigidly fastened to the axle ..." Heave ... CRASH! "... but they keep breaking off." Heave ... CRASH! "Well, maybe they'll get that fixed some day." Heave ... CRASH! "Maybe." Heave ... CRASH! Heave ... CRASH! Another speaks up: "I'm worried about my oldest son." Heave ... CRASH! "You mean about that wagon he's building?" Heave ... CRASH! "Yes. He's only seen a wagon once, from a distance ..." Heave ... CRASH! "... and won't take time to study the lore of wagon-building." Heave ... CRASH! "Thinks he can think it all out for himself?" Heave ... CRASH! "As usual. But it's a waste of talent ..." Heave ... CRASH! "... like inventing fire all over again." Heave ... CRASH! Heave ... CRASH! "But I have heard it said that if you keep reinventing fire ..." Heave ... CRASH! "... you may find a way to make it hotter." Heave ... CRASH! "Maybe." Heave ... CRASH! Heave ... CRASH! Heave ... CRASH! And the wind moans like a thing in pain And will not be comforted. Thomas G. Digby written 0215 hr 11/03/74 entered 1200 hr 3/05/92 format 12:51 12/22/2001