The Interpreters

Sheba and She Sphinx journey in a wild land where there is no snow. No satisfying crunch underfoot or melt on the eyelash. Very little snowball fun.

Where is the Hat that covers a multitude of sins? What are these sins and how can I not see them? Sheba is complaining, as her horse eats grass on the side path.

I don’t care, more Sheba, I search for that which has been hidden in the penumbra of the head gear, in the under hat, if you will, what are you keeping, what are they keeping under it, with the bushel.

They asked each person, as they passed by, what it was that they kept hid under their hat. These then, are some examples that.

I keep my head, my worldly goods, my sister’s rose, my teeth in a case, a cans of lager, a packet of crisps, a donut, the king’s socks, a secret.

What are these secrets? I cannot, I must keep them under my hat.

All these answers, although of interest, met with distain from Sheba, although the Sphinx wrote down the words and symbols in the sand.

Soon, next, after a week or so, years down the line, skeletons with long beards, life of a butterfly, Hirondelle through a beam of light, suddenly they came across a.

All dressed in colour or drab camouflage of bronze, each individ the shape of shapes standing together, distraught burghers, heroic in distraction, they were introduced, the Interpreters.

Where are your hats? Asked the Sphinx.

We have no hats.

Where do you keep your secrets hid??

We are the Interpreters, they said, we are transparent in action though not in actuality, we search for visions of the flat surface, the 1=1, the abacus and it’s seeing fills us with vitality. Secrets have no traction with us.

I’m afraid that you will have to explain all that, why don’t we sit here beneath this banyan tree, that you might unpack these thoughts of yours. There is a faint tinkling sound of something that might be of import, hanging in the margins, said Sheba.

Right you are, came back the interpreters.

They ate, they rested and reposed beneath the banyan tree. She Sphinx in attend.

Well, the 1=1, the flat surface, the bottom line, the all in all, cannot be seen clear or even a little, because of the great data cloud that surrounds. To us has been revealed that clarity through the cloud by many long years of study and practice. Once we have seen revealed the 1=1 in all its glory, we are slowly but surely filled with inflammation, or vitality until we must communicate with message wands.

The combustion chambers of the interpreters fill slowly, levers rising as well, valve on valve escaping when the 1=1 is revealed from its cloud. The plasma inside the chambers plummeted, the temperature without and within the casing, movement of the plates and allowing the rays to suffer through the wands aimed at chinks in the armour, achieved.

When the wand’s rays, passing through the data cloud, hit the mist that covers the buffalo, the rays burn holes in the mist and the buffalo breaks into many parts, each part begins its journey upwards to then can shine in the light of the wands. The parts of the buffalo rise from the mud, within which it lies, cool in the mud, flies cheated. The buffalo parts understand the 1=1 when the plasma rays of the interpreters dispel the mists. However, it is known, the mist recovers quickly, is always thickening, and when it does so, the parts of the buffalo come together again, in the mud of the paddy field, deep.

Hmm, said Sheba, sounds like some kind of abstracted metaphorical narrative, what does it signify?

The Buffalo must split into parts, rise out the mud of the paddy field and shine, said the Interpreters. Else the mud of mystification and the slime of superstition will cover.

A worthy end, but a mysterious method, mused Sheba, tell me is there involved a chocolate grinder.

I suppose it all depends upon the skill with which the wand is flourished, said She Sphinx, I have seen the buffalo many times.

Don’t pretend that you understand, said Sheba, come Interpreters, break it down for me. Tell me first about the revelation of the 1=1 and the consequent vitality of the Interpreters.