The Father of the Barren Woman

I know a guy who badly wanted a grand-child.
He believed the survival of his line depended on
that. Everyone one of his ancestors had had a child
that passed the family genes along. This army of
ancestors stretching back to the first human, demanded
the passing of this torch to a new generation. He
could not bare the thought that his only daughter
would let that flame die.

His daughter was barren and it much pained her to
see her dad suffering so. She went to the most
famous sorcerer in town and asked him for a child. The
sorcerer informed her it was written in the stars that
she will never be a mother, but for a price, he could
give her an imitation child. It wouldn’t be human or
alive, but it would look and act as if it were a real
human. Her father would be completely fooled by this
child simulacrum.

The woman payed the stiff fee, and the wizard
mixed a bunch of molecules and shaped them to
look like a baby girl. With a secret incantation
the sorcerer made the molecules behave as if
they were alive. The beehive of molecules behaved
as a newborn child. The wizard cautioned the mother
that she not only needed to treat the beehive as if
it were a child, but she must believe it, and
love it as such, otherwise, it would revert to its
inanimate state.

The proud grandfather was static with joy, the
whole family loved the molecule beehive at first
sight and were fooled by it. I, on being shown the
child, imprudently proclaimed, “That is not a real
child. It’s just a bunch of molecules.”

The whole family looked at me as if I were mad. The
granddad, who was of a philosophical cast of mind,
asked me, “How is it that you can tell, and we can’t?”

“Easy, I don’t love it, therefore, I can see is not
real. Anything that you regard with strong emotion
becomes real to you. Whatever you love, or hate would
seem real. Only dispassion reveals illusion.”

The grandfather struck his chin deeply in thought. “I
pity you, my friend, I’d rather love than see reality.”

“You’re right, reality without love is a curse.
The trick is too love illusion, and still see it as
such. Can you love something and see it as not real?”

“No I can’t.”

“Well, excuse my mistake then, I can see now your
granddaughter is as real as you are,” I said
and left chuckling softly.

Pete