It was the dawn of mankind. Humans were walking on their feet, eating raw food and running away from saber-toothed tigers. They were enjoying a simple and very short life.
In the skies the gods were cruising. They controlled the copyrighted fire. Flint and stick were patented. The very word ‘fire’ was a trademark. Life was good.
And yet Prometheus felt guilty. He had shaped the humans out of clay, but ungifted and defenseless. To enlighten us would require ideas and sharing.
He sneaked up on the fire guardian, dismantled the silly security, and lit a torch from the protected sparks. A torch that he carried during his fall, pursued by hordes of lawyers.
In a tempest of cease and desists, Prometheus taught the use of flint and stick to a few rebel humans.
Heavens were outraged. An impudent was crossing their rules. What would be the consequences? How could they anymore protect the original creator, whoever that might be? How could they encourage more of his creations, although he had already crossed the styx? They had struck a deal, the universe allowed them to protect this knowledge for a given period, and later they would share it with humanity. It was but a minor detail that this period was increasing by one year every year…
Now humanity had its own sparks of light. From them were to grow civilizations and enlightenment.
All this progress was observed. The gods boldily calculated sums and amounts, added a minus in front of them and sent them to anybody who had approached near any fire lit from the initial sparks.
They had to defend their age-old business model. Or else this would mean extinction to imagination. How would anybody invent anything? Why spend any sort of energy in any sort of creation if one can’t control it?
And so they sent after Prometheus a horde of winged baby-like archers and multiheaded dogs. He was stricken down, chained to a rock and his body used for medical research.
The cumulated losses accounted to thirty thousand years.
Heavens went into revolution.
The stock holders were angry, and changed the management. Three gods seized power and formed a triumvirate. They changed the business model to a monotheismcracy. A lot of the staff was fired. The other gods became saints, and the lesser gods angels.
This time they would control and lobby for the greater good.
On his rock Prometheus was growing livers, which two beaked surgeons were dutifully removing without his agreement and without anesthesis.
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It’s definitely copy lefted. Because it’s the only way to fight against what many call intellectual property.
What do you think of that concept?
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I like this story, it is a good one echarp!
Odile
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