September 10, 2010

The Bomb Makers

There once was a family of bomb makers. They didn’t make the sort of bombs that killed people. No, this was a very special family, throughout the ages, that made very special bombs. These bombs destroyed human organizations-- the bane of all existence in this world.

Not everyone in the family was born a bomb maker. Sometimes one of the children turned out to be a bomb maker, sometimes two or three. Sometimes the family would go generations without a bomb maker. If that happened, the family might forget about its history. Then someone in the family would awaken, build a bomb, and set it off.

After the destruction, the family would remember that our destinies are written in the most ancient language deep inside us, and we can never outrun who we are.

What was it like for a bomb maker to awaken? Well, it was like discovering a secret talent. It was like writing all your life by scratching a fingernail into paper and then finally discovering a pencil. It was like breathing pollution since birth and then finding the clean ocean air after a rainfall for the very first time.

Once a bomb maker was awakened, he or she didn’t want to do anything but build the most beautiful and powerful bomb that could possibly be constructed.

And therefore it was important when a bomb maker was awakened. Parents gave thanks when a child was awakened to bomb making, for it was a very unsophisticated bomb that a child could make. There was destruction from a child’s bomb, for sure, loss of friends, hurt feelings. But the bomb-making phase never lasted longer than a few years. And by the time the child grew to become a teenager, the danger had passed.

When a teenager was awakened, the bomb he or she built often blew up the family itself, scattering everyone to the far corners of the world.

Bombs built by a mature adult were the most explosive.

Once a father built a bomb that destroyed an entire kingdom. He and his family lived as peasants in the fields. The father was a proud farmer and enjoyed his work. After he was awakened to his bomb making abilities, he understood clearly that he could be an even better farmer if he received more back from the king of the land.

And so the man began to talk to his fellow peasants about the state of affairs in the kingdom.

Constructing a truly beautiful bomb involved more than whispering about injustice. Constructing a very powerful bomb involved organizing and inspiring others into action. By the time the king realized a bomb was about to go off in his backyard, it was too late, for a bomb maker from this lineage worked efficiently and meticulously to insure detonation.

After the kingdom was destroyed, the peasants were absorbed into another kingdom, and so many wondered whether it was any good at all. The wise old peasant women of the fields said to have faith. The destruction of a kingdom was good if only to show that kingdoms could in fact be destroyed.

It must all be leading up to something, the old women said.

This was before the great powers moved all the peasants into super cities. I know it’s difficult to believe, but the great powers talked openly in the capitals of the world about how best to convince the people to move off the land and into super cities. The great powers told the peasants that in the cities they could choose whatever profession they fancied. And the people went along, as people do, and moved into the super cities. And the family of bomb makers was among them.

After the people had been moved into the super cities, a mother was soon awakened to her bomb making abilities. She was very charismatic woman working as an administrator for a large human organization inside a super city, and she easily gained the trust of so many of her bosses and learned all the secrets of the organization. 


Like many human organizations, this one plundered the earth for resources to enrich those at the top of the organization. This woman spent months gathering evidence of crimes against the land and people and when she set off her bomb by releasing this evidence, the organization for which she worked came tumbling down.

Of course, those at the top of the organization survived quite well while the rest found themselves displaced and without work. Many were angry at the woman for blowing up the organization, saying there was no point since other organizations simply moved in and filled the void created by the destruction. But the wise and dirty old men who lived in the streets of the super cities said to have faith. It must all be leading up to something.

And so it went. Every generation or so, a company that was big and strong vanished overnight. A government agency thought to be immovable was gone in a flash. Even a nation sometimes collapsed. The entire world system teetered more than once, though no one realized it other than the great powers.

Like Herod, the great powers wanted very much to locate the bomb makers. But by now the bomb makers no longer belonged to a single ancestral chain, for the blending of family lines is a fulfilling destiny of our times. The great powers invested heavily in security at all the doors of all the important buildings in all the super cities. Pockets were checked. Metal detectors were employed. Threats of jail time were levied.

Have faith, the old people living in the retirement homes inside the super cities whispered. It is all leading up to something.

Then one day a boy was born with the bomb-making gene. He was a strong boy and enjoyed the outdoors. That’s why he chose the profession he did: Roofing. He wanted to spend every moment he could outside becoming stronger. And so the boy became a man, and the man became a very well known roofer in one of the capitals of the world. And while the man was putting a new roof on one of the most important buildings in one of the most important capitals of the world, he was awakened.


Instead of tarring down a quality roof, the man spent months atop the building constructing the most special bomb, gorgeous in its potential. And when the man was finished, he walked over to the center of the decaying roof atop the very important building and did what he was destined to do: He caused every organization in the entire world to shudder, creak, teeter, break and fall by dropping his most beautiful bomb down the main ventilation shaft and into the core of the system.


And when the sun rose the next morning, it was truly a new dawn.

22 comments:

Brian Miller said...

wow ed. incredible tale...guess not all bomb makers are bad...at least not these bombs...smiles.

Ed Pilolla said...

thanks, brian. i've been wanting to write some fairy tales and they're coming out a little dark. the writing process is always a thing of discovery.

TechnoBabe said...

Some of the things in you story could be many things, maybe all things at the same time too. It shows you are a good writer, to keep the attention and to get us to wonder.

Deidra said...

"It must all be leading up to something." Feels a lot like that, these days...

Claudia said...

oh wow - thought for a moment i'm on the wrong blog -or maybe just don't know you long enough..
what a story - and some sounds strangely familiar

Suzi Smith said...

definitely wow... and oh yes, tis all leading up to something... brilliant tale... don't they say all fairy tales are rooted in truth?

Su-sieee! Mac said...

Fairy table and fable. I like it. A lot. Great pacing. Friendly voice. And, a positive beginning for the ending. You know what, Ed, I can see an animation with this tale. More, please.

Ed Pilolla said...

thanks so much:) truly. it's not easy to show my dark side. it's a profoundly positive experience to discover the supportive friends i have made here. really, i am so touched you liked it:)

Tori said...

This is a beautifully dark post. It is a timely fairytale. I love that there is hope and faith in "It must all be leading up to something". Well done.

The Words Crafter said...

You know, this was really very good. I'd like to see you take this and develop it. There's so much depth here, so many things, issues, generations, so much history to pull from, even if it's a fairy tale. I love it's darkness, too.

So, you think? If I saw this in a bookstore, I'd buy it!

Ed Pilolla said...

okee-dokee. i'll attempt something else:) muchas gracias for request:)

Java said...

Thanks for visiting me today and for the very nice comment!

Now following you and I now need to go read your posts!!

Have a great weekend!

Wild Rose said...

Beautifully written tale Ed and there's indeed hope for our future generations so i smile knowing it's not over until it's but not for a while as long as we have bomb making children :)

French Fancy... said...

Dark, mysterious and spellbinding, Ed. Just like the best fairy tales are.

ladyfi said...

Fabulous writing. Metaphoric. And do I detect a note of hope at the end?

Being Me said...

Speechless, Ed. This was captivating.

Alexandra said...

This story inspired so many thoughts. I remembered seeing clips from Just Do It, about "domestic extremists" (government label) in England, and wondering whether I would resort to civil disobedience that way. The story also reminded me that the leaders of the climate change coalition in this country are calling for more direct action, since making nice with legislators has not worked. I thought about the desperate pleas that have been flooding my in-box about the food safety bill, which has been misunderstood by the public apparently, and how Monsanto control seeds. We need a bomb-maker there, Ed, in that corporation. Modern fairy tales. Such a great concept!

King of New York Hacks said...

Yeah, I agree with SMac, I was actually picturing animation to this tale of the times...how close are we to them ? Peace..good stuff bro.

The Empress said...

This reminds me of some Japanese animation that I saw with the kids, but cannot remember. It won an award...argh...why can't I remember? ANyway, they were riveted...what was it..Oh! YES! Spririted Away.

I had to read every word. Instantly unable to pay attention to anything else around me..

Ed Pilolla said...

you got me thinking about art for this project in a different way. thanks!

She Writes said...

After the destruction, the family would remember that our destinies are written in the most ancient language deep inside us, and we can never outrun who we are.

And the people went along as people do...

But the wise and dirty old men who lived in the streets of the super city said to have faith.

Great lines! I have started to read this when in a hurry and knew it needed a slow read. I came back tonight and did just that. Loved it. Children's book? I think it could go somewhere.

Aishah said...

Too dark for me.