half notes from missing post

The Young Turk was dubious. She didn't like the drift of the fat sage's argument. It was too broad brushed. The fat sage switched tack. He explained the student should not investigate the aims but the methood of the driving experience. An experience which forced the driver to look directly ahead. Which decreed participation in the environment as dangerous. Looking backwards was done looking forwards through the rear view mirror. The driver was wedded to his or her individualistic journey, failing to see that the destination was less important ( the microcosm of each journey) than the process, the actual experience of driving, they were exposed to, an experience they took for granted, never knowing how it might be shaping their souls.

This was nature's subtlety. Humanity thought it had harnessed nature. But it did so in such a fashion that nature had sowed the seeds of its come-uppance within the very practice of this supposed 'harnessing'.

The Young Turk remained sceptical, in particular when the fat sage wound up the seminar with disrsive remarks on how this car-culture world view had lead to depair and disaster; and generated a vast amout of mundane art. The fat sage admired the young turk's scepticism. He told her that the individual qualities she expoused, the need to substantiate theories with a personal conviction, was a fine thing. This was not what his critique was aimed at. His critique was aimed at the way the brief culture of the car had excercise these qualities she possessed within its own society. The destination prized so far ahead of the journey, the loneliness that individuals failed to apreciate they were embracing in their driving, the cost to their phsyche, and that of the world. Fortunately nature had employed its covert tactics; the car culture had perished, the world had learnt to look sideways.

After the fat sage left, the young turk gazed out of the window at the dawn of the second sun (A little later than usual) and had a moment of hankering to get into her own automobile, chart a course between the two, and drive and drive and drive. But as she stared, some genetic memory was triggered, and a shudder of loneliness and absolute despair possessed her.

She left the thought palace There was nothing more for her to do that day. She took the suntram, which glided above the earth's crust, taking her home, to her community.