Genesis

by Bernard Beckett

Even the plainest of events is tied down by a thick tangle of permutation and possibility, but the human mind struggles with such complexity. In times of trouble, when the belief in simple gods breaks down, a cult of conspiracy arises.

“You’re still just silicon,” he said, as he turned the page. “And you’re just carbon,” Art persevered. “Since when has the periodic table been grounds for discrimination?”

I don’t wish to speak of consciousness anymore. I wish only to speak of difference. All the people I know see a difference between a man and an animal, but none of us can name the difference, nor measure it. For some the difference is so small, they will not eat anything made of animal.