It is understood, but not confirmed, that in a clearing made by the trampling hooves of great oxen, carved in circles around the well, they set out their stall. A bell tent for the bells and some rope for the horse in the round, in the ground. The trees surrounding moved very slowly to the naked eye, unaware of the dramas of life unfolding.
She Sphinx refused to come out from under the great boughs, claiming that she was suffering radiation poisoning and had become allergic to hoof prints.
Sheba, meanwhile, studied the maps for what they were worth, which was, to be called Frank, not much.
You really have no idea where you left it! She shouted, Stop sulking in the trees before I lose my voice.
If I shed all my fur and my tail drops off in this incessant sunshine, I shall blame you, said She Sphinx emerging, I ran out of sunscreen in the third century before. And no, I have no idea.
Look, said Sheba pointing at a curl of the parchment, I think that this seaside resort is a good place to begin, it says here, famous for fresh air and fun. There is a zoo, which I hope is modern and well curated, and a café with cold drinks and sandwiches.
Sounds delightful, said the Sphinx, I’m in. Will there be ice-cream or sorbet? I’ll need something to keep me cool. Fur, I’m telling you, you have no idea.
They travelled in a group or a small caravan with outriggers and a baggage train. Sheba on her favourite donkey, stopping occasionally to collect interesting plant specimens and the Sphinx roaming ahead and behind and side to side, with the local whatnot. Until in some week and a half of pleasant travelling to the north and east, they came to Rockpool by Sea.
How shall we discover the Moral Compass? Asked, This place is awash with tourists, you can hardly see your claws in front of your face.
Sheba took the MC detector from her hat and switched it to automatic stop right there. The machine, first of its kind so far, blinked in the seaside and sniffed the air for clues. A small screen with whitened dials flashed and pulsed with consideration.
After some small time, in which the Sphinx wandered off to watch a kite competition, the detector suddenly drew an wavering arrow in the direction of the beach and let out a series of ear mangling pings.
This way I think, It was Sheba speaking whist looking at the dial, This way, over here, and she set off, following the tip of the arrows.
The MC was in a rockpool conversing with the local sea life during an area in which the children stood, waiting for crabs to find their toes. The shining seaweed hid anemones with secret agendas and shrimps were so transparent that they were obvious. Under the rocks, where no one should go, tiny creatures that would prefer to remain anonymous and live on the land, but find it all too difficult, crouched.
At one end of the greatest pool, with its half buried in fragrant salty sand, the Moral Compass was enjoying down time. Its dials twirling in fanciful fashion, ignoring the gradations that might calibrate or even judge.
A sunken ship, A person in an old-fashioned diving suit, with bubbles coming upwards, a pirate’s chest with jewels lingering, a getaway car, a ruined tower with spiral staircase, gathered in the pool to entertain the guppies.
Sheba, approaching with her special, I’m walking on sharp rocks, walk, sat with her feet deep in the sand and struck a conversation with the MC.
May I, why this particular neck?
I have come here, spoke the Moral Compass, to augment and perfect my knowledge of good and bad, right and wrong, up and down, left and right, black and white, here and there, hat and coat, bow and arrow and the like. Here amongst the shrimps and other transparent creatures I can see the inner workings of their hearts, which I have been led to believe is the receptacle, centre and housing for emotion and must be consulted on all questions of moral judgement, which is, after all is said, my remit and area of expertise.
Fascinating, said Sheba, but I do have a request from the Desert Djinn, she who carries the weight of.
Tell all, said the MC
She feels, in her wisdom, which one must admit is of a deep and time spanning nature, that the humans in this time are in need of your services. I can, in my small way, concur with this, as I have witnessed many injustices and barbarous activities.
I have tried time and time, said the MC, But to no avail. Solutions and mediations coming out of my proverbial ears, but do they listen? They do not.
Prehaps if you used a carrot or a stick? Proffered Sheba,
I am a useful engine, not a vegetable vendor or a dog out for a stroll, said the MC, I can only advise. Anyway, what has a carrot got to do with anything?
I see, said Sheba, a thought, what if I knew someone who could provide incentive to follow said advice, My partner in quest is gifted with a very threatening visage and atom shredding claws which can appear extremely persuasive. We could ask her, I think that she went to watch the kite competition. And the carrot, it just represents incentive, you know, money, knowledge, fine wines, luxury yachts, house by the sea, that sort.
A kite competition! No body tells me anything, let’s go, said the MC, extracting itself and dripping gently in the plain air.
The Guardians of the Cave 