"You would be the aimless kinetic movements of other dust just
like your kind if it wasn't for me giving you consciousness and a soul.
You impudent little dummy, you should not speak to your ajarn this
way. Your blood only has worth as the nutrients of my posterity. That
is its purpose. If you become so calculating and crafty with me I'll
reevaluate our relationship." One of its arms reached over and
caressed his skin. "At a distance," it said, "the brownness makes it
look as solid as a rock. I forget that it is so tender. Your naivete
also seems so obdurate that I often forget the self-serving and
disingenuous muck underneath it all." It brought back its arm, opened
its mouth widely, and spat at the boy. "Here have an early Songkran,"
it said. Songkran was the New Year's water festival in the hottest
month of April. The month was really March of the year 2445 according
to the Thai Buddhist calendar. "I come and go by the dictates of my own
intelligent, restless brooding. I move from one rock to another hoping
to get satisfaction or at least a reprieve from dissatisfaction. I, an
intelligent being, must delude myself that the composite of rocks that
make up this planet are something other than hardened shells of dirt
and that I, wandering from one rock to another, am really living
experiences instead of hallucinating pleasurable sensations for my self
to stay sane.
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