It was morning. A new day, and a new start for the flies. Although flies are a tragically short-lived race, they are surprisingly perceptive and philosophical beings, once you get to know them. Having a thousand eyes can be confusing, but it does have its upsides. Seeing as their lives are so short, flies don't bother naming each other. Instead flies call each other by their world-views, summing them up aptly in one word, on the fly, so to speak.
"We are stuck in sticky goo," said Visionary, "and we can't get out."
"By why would we?", asked Optimist. "This goo is pure and sweet. I don't *want* to get out!"
"Bullspit!", said Pessimist. "This goo SUCKS BALLS. I fuckin' *hate* this damned goo."
"Well," said Visionary, "either way, we can't get out. No matter what we try, this goo is way too sticky, and we will never leave."
"I wonder how that works," said Speculative, who doesn't have any more lines of his own in this story.
"Clearly," said Aneristic, "the goo has a very cleverly constructed structure, designed to keep us in. Kind of like a prison. In fact, it's probably just *made to look* like sticky goo, to make it harder to escape. I bet if we study and document it, we'll understand how it works and realize it's not so gooey after all."
"Open your eyes, buster," said Eristic, "It's goo alright. Real, messy, sticky goo. There's no order here, no rhyme or reason. Just goo."
The two flies stared at each other, myriad eyes showing nothing but contempt, until Visionary broke the tense silence.
"Perhaps," he said, "all five of you are right. Perhaps the goo really is goo, but also has a discernible underlying structure, partly designed so as to make us believe the goo is even gooier than it is. Perhaps in some places, around some of us, the goo is sweet and pleasant, in other places rancid and irritating. Maybe, maybe this whole gooey thing is like some kind of amoeba."
"An amoeba?!", exclaimed the five in concert.
"Think about it," replied Visionary. "I mean--" and then she gave that odd tremble, the one flies give when dying, and croaked.
"So it goes," said the five.
I don't think this is very good, by the way. But it illustrates the metaphor, to an extent. What it sorely lacks is a reference to the fact that each individual directly affects his or her personal goo-cocoon.
Needs more namecalling or obvious flytrappery.
I like the basic structure of the story, if maybe not the story itself (not bad, just obfuscated and not that good either). Forcing the reader to try and figure out what Visionary was about to say and all that.
I dig it, verb!
I like how the worldviews are their names. And the death at the end was cute, bringing in the barstool metaphor.
i like it. :D good one st.V