Moonsmear whizzed the shuttle through his loom at breakneck speed, clacking the heddles until they nearly hummed.
“Easy brother, you’ll stretch the thread, and then where will you be?”
“I have a date tonight, and I need to wash my neck before.”
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Moonblossom.”
“Ah yes, a very lovely girl. And hardworking. She is very particular so you’re lucky she’s agreed to meet with you.”
“Particular? In what way?”
“Well, because of her beauty she has many suitors. As such, she can pick and choose. She seems to like young men from the right sort of family, those who are clean, and who are right with Moonbeam of course.”
Moonsmear had been looming since he was twelve and was the fastest in the Collective. He preferred a flying shuttle which looked like a little wooden kayak with a sharp metal point on each end. Because it was thin and strong he could throw it as hard and fast as he liked, so long as he didn’t tangle his knots. He took great pride in his looming and enjoyed the work.
The Moonbeam Collective was a commune operated under the inspiration of Moonbeam, formerly Jerry Tsongas. He had a revelation when he was in a hardware store trying to decide on a choice of lawnmower. He realized that all the little features that set them apart meant nothing. He had been tricked by a lifetime of consumerism into thinking that getting the best price for the best features was a worthy use of his time. “Why do we even mow the lawn?” he asked himself with dozens of lawnmowers before him. “We water the grass, we cut the grass, we fertilize and weed, and we cut it again. Such a meaningless and wasteful act. We throw away the grass we grow, and worry over fungus and chinch bugs.”
“Can I help you sir,” the clerk asked. His manager had sent him over when he noticed Jerry talking to himself in the lawn mower aisle.
“Our lives are a waste. Why mow what we grow? We should be growing food for harvest instead!”
“Do you have any questions about the lawn mowers? The Troy Built are on sale this weekend, twenty percent off,” the clerk hopefully smiled.
“Twenty percent? That’s what it is? Drop the price to tether me to this Sisyphean contraption! The mowing is never done you know. The grass just keeps growing. As soon as you finish the little blades start creeping up, keeping you from living a real life by filling your day with meaningless labors!”
“You don’t have to cut your lawn mister,” the clerk suggested.
“And be cast out of society? Shunned as a failure who can’t manage a lawn let alone a successful life. Don’t you see? The lawn is the symbol of everything that is wrong with this world. Wasting time on invented tasks that require us to buy fuel, sharpen blades, fill trash bags, acquire trimmers, weeders, gloves, hearing plugs and supplies to keep the lawn clean and green.”
Jerry left the hardware store with a new purpose. He changed his name to Moonbeam, deciding that the reflected light of the moon mirrored the type of reflective life he wanted to lead. He felt the moon was kinder and gentler than the sun, and at night the world was obscured such that all the accumulated things didn’t matter and one could turn inward to find meaning and a peaceful life. Thanks to social media, Moonbeam acquired followers and in short order they gave him all their money to purchase land for the Collective.
That was more than twenty years ago and the Collective had prospered. Running more or less like a Quaker village, everyone pitched in on the farm to raise food for the community and make goods to sell in town. Moonbeam allowed limited electricity and technology, since their website was an important source for new members and revenue.
Once someone joined the Collective, their name was changed to Moon plus something else. Moonstone, Moonmeadow, Moonriver and so on. But the poetic names were used up early, and as time went on the names became less romantic; Moonchair, Moonpen, Moonlamp and MoonTim to name just a few. So despite Moonbeam’s initial best efforts, there was a hierarchy within the commune. Those with the best names were recognized as longtime members and thus had greater status. The children born in the Moonbeam community were named at birth and Moonblossom had been born when there were still some good names left, which added to her allure.
Moonsmear had also been born in the commune, just after all the cool names had run out and when Moonbeam, who personally chose everyone’s name, was losing interest in the naming ceremony. Moonsmear had been teased about his name all his life. He endured the taunting, but his resentment toward Moonbeam grew as he became a young man and hoped to one day take a wife. Although he had been born at the same time as Moonblossom and many of the other children, he was saddled with a low-status name. This made him bitter at times, which he struggled to contain and sometimes expressed with aggressive looming.
Jerry found that after twenty years of commune life his passion for the community he founded was waning. He still went through all the motions, holding moon worship each month when the moon was full, having festivals during special high tides and all the other made-up ceremonies and holidays that were supposed to cleave one from the world of the material and bind one to the eternal. He convinced his followers that the sun, even though it gave life through its heat and light, represented negative things: anger, lust, lies, destruction, hatred, violence, anxiety, greed, pride, envy, wrath, and gluttony. The moon represented positive things: peace, calm, reflection, generosity, patience, love, creativity, kindness, grace, gentleness, kindness, openness, honesty, fidelity, moderation and thrift. But more and more, as he saw what was available on the Internet he wanted a taste of the sunny side of life. Now middle-aged, he was having doubts about his choices. He felt the window was closing for him to make a new start and to satiate the many appetites building within him.
As the leader of the Collective he had taken several wives. When comely young women joined the fold, he often took them into his home as his new, favorite wife. He explained how this was an extension of the love and generosity that was at the center of their beliefs and the people happily accepted his decision. He thought that perhaps if he took another wife, it would be enough to slake his thirst for change. He had noticed Moonblossom when she was a young girl. She was spirited, fearless, but also kind and patient with the younger children. As she bloomed into a young woman, the entire community noted her great beauty. Now that she was nineteen and a steadfast believer, Jerry thought that she might be exactly what he needed to reinvigorate his dedication to the Moonbeam way of life. After all, she was a product of his teachings, and was in a way the culmination of everything he had worked for over the years. Jerry went to her family’s home that very night and told them of his plan to marry their daughter. Everyone was thrilled to hear the news. Everyone except Moonsmear, of course.
He was on his way to Moonblossom’s house, shuttle still in hand, when he noticed a crowd gathered around her parent’s home. They were cheering and singing, toasting with moonshine and passing around wedding cigars. He asked about Moonblossom and learned the terrible news. Someone handed him a glass of liquor and at first he was too stunned to drink. On the porch, Moonbeam was celebrating with Moonblossom’s family and holding court as he always did. Moonsmear felt an anger welling up inside him, and began to throw back glass after glass of the incendiary beverage.
“The old fool,” Moonsmear murmured to himself, “she’ll never love him. He’s just a dried up old man!” Moonsmear locked his eyes on Jerry, hating him more with each second. Hating him for the name he was given and now for stealing Moonblossom. As the engagement party rolled on Moonsmear’s anger rose until he thought he’d burst.
Meanwhile, Jerry thought maybe this new bride was exactly the wrong thing. Maybe he just needed to walk away. He’d take all the money of course, he’d earned that, and slip away into a new life away from all the worshipping idiots agreeing with everything he said to the point that he wondered if he even made sense anymore. If nobody ever tells you you’re wrong how do you know you’re right? As always, he watched his flock with a careful eye. His ability to read people was his gift and whenever he was before them he watched for anyone whose interest was drifting. He would single them out for special attention, and make sure they remained devoted.
But watching the crowd now he saw one face that wasn’t bored, it was murderous. The jaw set, the eyes burning and unmoved by Jerry’s attention. Jerry looked away, pretending that he hadn’t seen Moonsmear’s vengeful glare. “Maybe this is how I go out,” he thought to himself. “Kid with a shuttle stabs me through the heart and it all comes crumbling down. I’d be a martyr, a hero for the ages. Or at least as long as these dumb monkeys can keep things together.”
Moonsmear began to move through the crowd, straight at Jerry, raising his shuttle like a knife. Jerry watched him come, but pretended not to notice. He felt that maybe he was ready to end his charade. And what better way than by the hand of one of his community? As Moonsmear moved into range, Jerry turned to him and called out, “Moonsmear! Brother! What is in your heart?”
Moonsmear stopped. Jerry was like the Pope to the Collective, so even in his rage it was almost as if the voice of God was addressing him. “I don’t know,” Moonsmear said. “My heart is filled with darkness!”
Jerry felt an opportunity was at hand, “Brother, this is my fault. I named you Moonsmear knowing it would give you a life of trial and tribulation.” Jerry wasn’t exactly sure where he was going but knew the right words would come. “This was your test, brother. A way to make you stronger, to set you apart.” The flock crowded in to hear the words of wisdom from Moonbeam.
“I will not live forever, but the Collective must endure,” Jerry said. “Someone will one day have to take my place, and he will have to be strong.” The crowd leaned in even further. “I named you Moonsmear to test your character. To see if you had what it would take to be the next leader of the Community.” The flock gasped as the idea that Jerry would ever leave them. “I will train and mentor you to be the leader of the Collective. From this day forward you shall be known as—Moonbeam Two.”
The flock cheered and cried, more moonshine was passed around and Moonbeam Two glowed with pride. Jerry watched the scene and realized partial retirement was actually better than just leaving. He could come and go, he’d have a generous retirement fund and could still marry whoever he liked. Or maybe the Moonbeam Two would get the pick of the litter. Jerry made a mental note to edit the scriptures to make sure Moonbeam One never had to settle for leftovers.