Post by Anastas on Oct 16, 2003 1:51:42 GMT -5
“My world no longer exists,” he said matter-of-factly. “It has faded into memory and it’s little more than the words and pictures you see in your history books.”
“But you are still here,” his dinner companion pointed out, “and that makes you worth more than a whole library.”
“That would depend on the library,” he replied. “You see, I can only tell you about events as I saw them from my perspective and not necessarily as they actually happened. Further, I was not present for most of the great events that shaped my people’s history. Most of what I do know is second hand and probably muddled by a few thousand years of other experiences jammed into a head intended to hold less than one hundred and twenty. Your own memory is probably about as reliable for you as mine is for me. I wouldn’t be much help.”
“Oh nonsense!” his companion exclaimed, “Even a fraction of what you can recall would be worthwhile. What you ate, what you did for a living, who your friends were... all of this is important.”
He looked down briefly at his plate of shrimp, then back at his companion “Which returns me to my original question: Why is this so important to you? Any worthwhile researcher can find out the same things through other means.”
“Not everything. In the passage of time, many things are irrevocably lost. Prior to the invention of the phonograph, there was no means to record and save voices from the past. Thomas Edison is dead, but we can still hear what he has to say. Not so for Abraham Lincoln, Sun Tzu, or any one else, including your own king. With photographs and motion pictures, we were able to record species of animals and birds now extinct. We can still see how they moved and hear how they sounded. Before those machines were invented, those kinds of experiences were lost. So far as I know, you’re the only non-Biblical human being who has lived as long as you have. You know stories and songs most historians have never read or heard.”
“Suppose I refuse?” he asked. “Then what?”
He watched the confusion in his companion’s face slowly to disappointment. Before his companion could respond, he said, “I’m not being uncooperative just to be difficult. I have a vested interest in keeping my existence a secret. I didn’t live this long by broadcasting my presence to the world. I value my privacy and my personal safety very highly. Dodging the Inquisition was difficult enough the first time.
“Now I live in an age where even normal men and women have little privacy. Creating a new identity has become more and more difficult. Even in the 1940’s, all I had to do was move to another community and change my name.”
“But you are still here,” his dinner companion pointed out, “and that makes you worth more than a whole library.”
“That would depend on the library,” he replied. “You see, I can only tell you about events as I saw them from my perspective and not necessarily as they actually happened. Further, I was not present for most of the great events that shaped my people’s history. Most of what I do know is second hand and probably muddled by a few thousand years of other experiences jammed into a head intended to hold less than one hundred and twenty. Your own memory is probably about as reliable for you as mine is for me. I wouldn’t be much help.”
“Oh nonsense!” his companion exclaimed, “Even a fraction of what you can recall would be worthwhile. What you ate, what you did for a living, who your friends were... all of this is important.”
He looked down briefly at his plate of shrimp, then back at his companion “Which returns me to my original question: Why is this so important to you? Any worthwhile researcher can find out the same things through other means.”
“Not everything. In the passage of time, many things are irrevocably lost. Prior to the invention of the phonograph, there was no means to record and save voices from the past. Thomas Edison is dead, but we can still hear what he has to say. Not so for Abraham Lincoln, Sun Tzu, or any one else, including your own king. With photographs and motion pictures, we were able to record species of animals and birds now extinct. We can still see how they moved and hear how they sounded. Before those machines were invented, those kinds of experiences were lost. So far as I know, you’re the only non-Biblical human being who has lived as long as you have. You know stories and songs most historians have never read or heard.”
“Suppose I refuse?” he asked. “Then what?”
He watched the confusion in his companion’s face slowly to disappointment. Before his companion could respond, he said, “I’m not being uncooperative just to be difficult. I have a vested interest in keeping my existence a secret. I didn’t live this long by broadcasting my presence to the world. I value my privacy and my personal safety very highly. Dodging the Inquisition was difficult enough the first time.
“Now I live in an age where even normal men and women have little privacy. Creating a new identity has become more and more difficult. Even in the 1940’s, all I had to do was move to another community and change my name.”
