How do you deal with a
bungler like this, Murray? I just don't get it. The guy's out on a routine creation assignment, and he ends up with
a ball of dirt festering with half-mortal self-replicating homunculi. I mean, is it really that hard to
do things the right way? We've all been through the training, you don't leave your trees out where the
mudgrubbers can get to 'em. I mean, he honestly thought that he could pop out for lunch, just leave his stuff sitting out there, and he'd just tell his
monkeys not to eat his fruit. I mean, he's lucky that they stopped where they did, but as it is, it could take 3 or 4 thousand years to kill these things off. The guy should be drummed out of the
Elohim, I tells ya.
I mean, hey, don't get me wrong, mistakes happen, I remember my first job, I ended up with an 8-peckered walrus that sang opera, but I sure as heck never fed it any fruit of knowledge, and if I had, I would have had the good sense to run screaming to The Man instead of trying to cover it up by trying to pass a homonculus off as a beast of the field. I mean, this guy had the stones to curse 'em after he banished them from the worksite! He punished his homunculi for his screw-up! What's the point of that? They're doomed anyway, at this point. I don't even want to think about what it's going to be like for those poor bastards, half-conscious but plagued with the realization of their own mortality, able to conceptualize their deaths but not prevent them, endlessly searching for meaning in the universe, but unable to grasp enough of the big picture to put all the pieces together. It's like he accidentally made a big ol' ugly ball of suffering and blind ignorance. It makes me sick to think about it, I don't mind telling you.
I hear The Man has taken an interest, though. He's worried that these freaks might start tearing things up at some point. He's talking about trying to work with 'em, put some controls in place, but I think it's a waste of time. How do you redeem a situation that corrupt? These things will never be Elohim, doesn't matter what kind of fruit they eat, and they'll never be beasts of the field, not matter how stupid and degenerate they become, but you can't just kill 'em off, and you definitely can't let 'em out of their cage.
Yeah, I hear they're going to throw the book at him. I hear his case is going up to Judge Wasserman, yeah, the creative sentencing guy. I'll tell you what, man, if it was me sitting on the bench, I'd send him off to live in a little box for a while, think about what he's done, you know? Or I'd force the poor slob to inhabit the body of one of his little accidents, see what it's like for them, you know? Teach him a lesson about keeping track of his tools before they throw him in the hole. It's not like going to the Penitentiary's going to teach somebody like that any lessons, you know? Just all boredom and suspension of creative powers, you still get the omniscience, heck, by the time he gets out, he'll have all this remedial training, he'll probably end up better off than before he went in. It ain't going to help his monkeys any, but their days are numbered anyway, right? I'm telling you, Murray, it's a shame, a crying shame.