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Have you ever considered how slow starfish move? It could take a lifetime just to find another starfish. Being lonely for a lifetime. In that way I feel that I am just like a starfish trapped in the open sea…
Ever since I was born I was a mutant. I was born with a certain “condition”… the ability to lie. An ability which all others in this world lacked. Because of my ability everyone presumed that I was unworthy of their trust.
Eventually, I was shunned from the community. It took me five days to walk to the nearest town.
When I first arrived, I found myself stumbling into a building.
As I entered through the door, I saw several tables covered in a green felt-like substance with various combinations of numbers on them. At one of these tables, five people were playing a game. I overheard one who was dressed in a leather jacket, jeans, and a cowboy hat asks another if he had anything good. The man responded “Yes, but you have to pay to find out.”
The guy in the cowboy-hat proceeded to throw in a few more circular disks. Then, the cards (as they called the elaborately decorated rectangular objects) were revealed. The cowboy was given all of the disks in the center of the table and commented that the other gentlemen was bluffing and in truth had a bad hand.
I was shocked. Did that mean that the guy who answered the question lied? The cowboy himself said that he really did not have a good hand. Or did he and was the cowboy lying? Either way someone was lying. Something that only I was capable of … or so I thought. What is going on?
With intense speculation I continued to watch the game. To my astonishment more lies were told. How is it that these people can lie? Why are they even allowed to be out here, in public, unrestrained? I after all was thrown into a research facility at age five when my “condition” was discovered.
In my old world, before the research facility, I was once told that people should proceed to the library to have their questions answered.
I asked for directions to the library from the businessman at the edge of the table (the one with the least circular discs).
Once at the library, I asked the gray-headed receptionist about where I could find the research desk. She pointed to her left and I followed the book-lined corridor to a small sitting area. Once there, I saw an elderly man on the computer.
He immediately asked what he could do to help me. I then asked, “How is it that people are capable of being deceitful?”
“You’re from that town nine miles away aren’t you?”
“Why did you leave?”
“I had a condition that made me unworthy to stay there.”
“You are normal then?”
“What do you mean? I am considered the worst abnormality.”
“So indeed you are normal.” He said quietly almost as if to himself.
“Please wait here for a moment. I have some articles on file that might help you.”
He returned a few minutes later with a large manila envelope. Handing the envelope to me he stated, “This should explain everything.”
MY INTERPRETATION OF WHAT HAPPENED: Inside of the manila envelope was a collection of newspaper articles pertaining to the community that I grew up in. The articles explained that a renowned scientist, who lost a loved one because of a lie, set out to make a community filled with people who were genetically engineered from birth to be unable to lie. For some reason I have some sort of mutation that allows me to lie. I wonder what or who caused my mutation to occur…