Elliot noticed Maggie and Peter sitting together in the lobby coffee shop as Elliot was returning to the Herald office from an earlier task. He could see their lips moving, but couldn’t hear or understand what they said. Maggie seemed to interrupt Perry in mid-sentence gesticulating wildly. The topic of conversation obviously meant a lot to her. When Elliot finally went in to say hello, Maggie grabbed his arm and said, “Elliot! Just the man I wanted to see. You can settle an argument for us. Do you know Perry?”
Elliot nodded. “We met the other night at the house.” Perry nodded back, hardly looking up from a large paper star map on the table. There were a dozen or so sheets of paper strewn about upon which they’d been sketching cartoon animals and stick drawings of people and objects.
Maggie and Perry took turns explaining their idea/collaboration to create a new mythology in twelve (constellations/sections). They agreed to use many of the familiar constellation shapes in their cosmology. But Maggie wanted to come up with new names. Perry wanted to keep the Greek, but reinterpret the symbols and their meaning for contemporary times. Gemini the twins, identical in every way until adulthood. Then subtle differences in the children manifest themselves as iron core adult beliefs. One twin adopted a philosophy of “Live and Let Live.” The other twin believed “Kill or Be Killed” was the natural state.
There would be twelve principle characters, and however many additional constellations and stories as they could come up with. They took turns excitedly pronouncing the names they’d agreed on with great emphasis.
“Articles (Ar-tic-lees) – the historian!”
“Apparatus – the automan!” (A sentient automobile-like creature modeled on the Minotaur.)
“Hysteria – the flower child!”
“Meniscus – the chemist!”
Elliot pointed to one of the drawings. “What’s this one,” he asked?
“That’s Popsicles (Pop-sic-lees) – the clown!” said Peter.
“No!” Maggie objected. “Pop-sic-lees, the pompous windbag politician!”
Elliot commented, “I suppose they could both be the same thing.”
Peter and Maggie glanced at each other with a collective “Hm.”
Then Peter explained, somewhat apologetically, “We still have some kinks to work out.”
Elliot asked, in something of a tizzy, “Is that what your disagreement is about?”
Peter said, “Maggie calls it a disagreement. I’d just call it the creative process.”
“How did you get the idea of creating a new mythology?” Elliot asked.
Maggie answered in a rhyme, possibly off the cuff, “Different times, different needs. New, improved mythologies.” They were both having a good time, and were pleased to bring into their cadre a passing ear to hear their tale.
But Elliot demurred. “I’m sorry, but I actually need to get back upstairs. I’m sort of in the middle of something.”
“No, wait!” said Maggie, still clutching his arm. “We haven’t told you about the wheel yet.”
“Later,” said Elliot, carefully lifting Maggie’s hand from his sleeve. “Back at the house. Later.”
Elliot hurried off in a bit of a funk. It seemed that Maggie had been swept away in a creative frenzy. He didn’t see how she’d be much help for his writing project now. For someone like Maggie, a staid and boring travelogue could hardly expect to compete with the creation of a twenty-first century mythology.
thermodynamics of ideas 