The elephant carefully left the herd when the first light of dawn streaked the sky.
He picked his way through the grass and trees, doing his best not to make a sound which would alert the other elephants. He was unsure about his enterprise, and he wished to avoid either their questions or speculations.
They would soon be poking each other with their tusks and whispering fervently into half-raised ears, when his absence was noted. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. He was doubtful enough as it was; he didn’t need the knowing nods of his herd mates.
The elephant was heading for the special clearing he had not visited for years. It was far and away, and although the route was still visible, it had never been clear or defined. And it was obviously not often used, for traces of other animals were few.
Since he had left early, he had not eaten breakfast, so he stopped occasionally to tug at some of the grasses. He munched thoughtfully while trying to decide how to ask his peculiar — and perhaps disturbing — question. How far, after all, do free will, free thought, and free speech actually go?
He came to a small stream and took his time to wash down his morning meal. The water had a chill to it, and he guessed some deep spring fed directly into its flow. It tasted as if it had been purified on its way through layers of earth, and he was certain he could feel bubbles on his tongue.
Sated and refreshed, he took note of the angle of daylight and began to trot with haste. He had set out early to avoid the glare of the midday sun, and if he could reach the clearing when planned, he would have the light behind him. It would make his task of staring into the sky that much easier. One less distraction in an already anxious day.
He became slightly less careful on the path, and a tree or two cracked as he hurried past. Since the other animals felt it prudent to keep their distance, it was with a minimum of havoc that he reached the clearing. As he had hoped, a cloud awaited him at the end.
“Mad dogs and elephants,” said the cloud.
“Pardon me?”
“Go out in the midday sun.”
“That’s ‘Englishmen.’”
“Ah, yes.” The cloud came closer. “It would be.” There was amusement tracing the words. “Have you taken an interest in show tunes now?”
“Well.” The elephant looked slightly embarrassed. “There seems no order or reason to the types of entertainment they show at the mission. And I’m quite fond of music.”
“So am I.”
“Even Noel Coward?”
“I’m partial to the first name.”
“That’s a joke,” said the elephant.
“A pun,” corrected the cloud.
“A technical distinction,” said the elephant.
“Much of what I do is technical,” said God. “It’s part and parcel of life.”
“I’ve heard that technology can destroy the soul.”
“No. The soul is immutable.”
“But …” The elephant was confused. “To lose one’s soul is the worst thing which —”
“You cannot lose your soul.” The cloud approached across the clearing. “You can, however, renounce your soul. It is not done unto you — you do the doing.”
“With all due respect,” the elephant, in spite of all his haste and worry, had now completely forgotten his original query, “the destruction which living a life can do to your hopes and dreams and desires eats away at your soul.”
“You talk of ephemera,” said God. “Just as you do not call a blade of grass a tree, you do not compare these wisps to the soul. Hope and —”
“But I —”
“Your God speaks,” said God. “Hold your tongue and attend.”
“Sorry.”
“Hope and desire give better service when verbs — not as nouns. You can covet so much that you refuse to recognize the satisfaction of achievement. Such a state of existence is known as greed.”
“Greed doesn’t destroy your soul?”
“No.” The cloud came almost as low as the elephant’s head. “Greed can only destroy life. It is a choice you make.”
“I like things,” said the elephant.
“So do I,” said God. “Everything.”
“Then it’s not wrong?”
“No.” The cloud eased back into the sky. “But things are just things. Desire is only desire. Fear is but fear. They are all pathways through the jungle. Some are more difficult than others.”
“Leading where?” asked the elephant, who, when he realized how high the cloud had really become, decided he had better shout. “LEADING WHERE?”
“To me.”