Virgin Volcano

The butterfly is a masterpiece of modern evolution.

A giant white peak towered above a warm, lush landscape. A red
butterfly darted from one bright, beckoning tropical flower to another.
The sun was not so hot today as it had been yesterday and this made the
butterfly happy. It only had ten days left to live and it was nice when
one of them was pleasurable. Nervously, the butterfly eyed a larger
blue and pink butterfly moving into the area. When flowers were scarce,
butterflies brutally beat off smaller competitors. But as long as
another butterfly didn't invade the area, there were plenty of flowers
and the red butterfly felt safe. It drew some delicious nectar into its
primitive digestive system from a wet purple orchid it was perched
on.

Meanwhile, the white peak was wrapped in a cold layer of crystal death
which humans referred to as snow. But this peak contained the only snow
on the whole island of Kauai so the human residents of the island
rarely had occasion to speak of snow.

And the butterfly saw the world in a very limited way. The world had
no clarity. Millions upon millions of years of natural selection had
created just the right perceptions for this little red butterfly. It
was bright flowers, which appeared more or less prominent according to
how much nectar they were likely to have. It saw other, smaller
butterflies which could be driven away should precious flowers grow
scarce. Also, it saw larger butterflies which might drive it away from
the flowers, which gave the life sustaining nectar. By mutual
agreement, butterflies of similar sizes never attempted to force each
other away from an area. The struggle could result in death for either
participant. The changes of survival gained by driving a rival away
were smaller than those lost by engaging in a potentially life
endangering combat. It was all clean; calculated.

Far beneath the earth, there was friction and energy was emerging
toward teh surface, destroying with heat all that lay in its path. This
energy was molten lava, the same material that the entire core of the
earth was composed of. Serene, the white peak, undisturbed, lay as it
had for millions of years. the snow had frozen the peak because it was
located so far above the earth. NO organisms could live in the cold
that existed at that elevation.
But beneath the mountain, there was dense, tropical jungle teaming
with life of al varieties. Plant life was abundant; many species of
animals lived there in the jungle; the primary biological distinctions
between them was that some were herbivores, many were omnivores, and a
few were carnivores. Despite appearances, this was a very harsh living
space for all mammals, including homo-sapiens. Hideous parasites made
an easy meal of the mammals, which were trapped and unable to survive
very well in the warm wetness, which happed to be the favorite
conditions for most animal parasites. And homo sapiens, whose soft skin
was particularly vulnerable to parasites could not survive well
here.

Nonetheless, there was a clearing at the foot of the white peak where
local tribesmen sometimes came for a purpose which, according to the
moral standards of twenty-first century humans, would be termed
hideous.

A long line of warriors, all of them healthy, fit and beautiful were
at this moment making their way toward the clearing. Two of the
stronger warriors were carrying a large stick. Bound to the stick was a
naked girl, no older than twelve.

The ceremony the islanders were about to engage in was a human
sacrifice to the Volcano Goddess Pele. this was done at the order of an
authoritarian priesthood who had a mutually beneficial alliance with
the brutal war-chiefs of the island.

The girl would have been screaming and thrashing except purple and
green cloth of a ceremonial nature was in her mouth and had muffler her
screams until she didn't bother anymore.

Actually, she'd lost all fear of death. Her mind was clear and
tranquil. All of her energy was focused on some way of escaping before
she was killed. She'd accurately calculated that she would likely be
untied before she was killed. She was aware of the strategy which gave
her the best change of survival, which was to appear passive once she'd
been untied and then attempt to run away shortly after. Her knowledge
of these things was demanded.

The warriors were led by a tall, beautiful man who nevertheless had
something ugly, or weak, about his features. He was a trainee of a
local priest and he was concerned that perhaps the goddess Pele might
kill him for the ceremony he was about to engage in. You see, the girl
who was killed had to be a virgin to prevent the volcanoes which
sometimes occurred on the island. This year, however, the girl who was
about to be sacrificed was not a virgin. While she was in his
captivity, the priest had raped her. So his muscles were tight now and
he was stressed.

"We can't kill her before sunset because Pele is a goddess of the
night. Ideally, we should sacrifice her as the sun is descending," said
the trainee.

"Okay," said Pua, a huge ugly man who was nonetheless handsome because
of his sheer muscularity. He was a proficient warrior and was slightly
bored with the whole ceremony. Nevertheless, he obeyed the priests, who
were authority figures.

Al of the warriors walked across the dirt path which was strewn with
shapr rocks and thorns. Their feet were so twisted and scarred they
considered this walking very mild. The surface nonetheless would have
mangled softer feet.

"When I return, I'll marry Lee-ha," Pua told his friends. they nodded
admiringly, though they all suspected as much. Pua and Lee-ha had been
very close for a long time.
"I'd like to marry someday but e priests can't. Having a woman so
close to us would corrupt us. But our tribes priest harem is large and
I'll soon be able to lay with the women," said the trainee.

"I'm only getting one but you'll have twenty. I tell you, we warriors
get a bad deal," said Pua. Pua gave the young priest a friendly slap on
the back. The other warriors didn't say much. They generally just
listened to Pua and obeyed. One of them, a handsome young man and
rather high in the hierarchy of these young warriors, said nothing
whatsoever. His face wore the marks of subdued anger. It had been
planned that he should marry the virgin on the stick. He'd like to save
her but priests had to be obeyed. Nonetheless, his muscles were flushed
and powerful with the adrenaline of pure rage. His name was Id.

Pua turned to his friend Id. "You'll find a prettier girl, Id. Cheer
up. We'll go hunting after this; just the two of us." The two slept
with each other on their trips so this had a hidden meaning.

"I have to go into mourning for a week so I won't be able to," said
Id.

"What do you mean? Proscribed mourning is only if you're actually
married to the corpse," said Pua.

"In my heart, I am,", said Id as he touched his left pec gently.

"I've never seen you so soft," said Pua tauntingly.

"I don't want to talk about it," muttered Id angrily. Then the men
walked silently.

Miles away, the red butterfly was chasing a small pink butterfly away.
Flowers were plentiful but this tiny butterfly was so vulnerable it
could be chased away with little effort.

The days of this red butterfly were spent consuming nectar, avoiding
predators, and maneuvering for survival against the thousands of
butterflies in the meadow. All of this life was maneuvering for the
peak of the red butterfly's life; the day he died and more importantly,
created larvae. The red butterfly was a masterpiece of evolutionary
creation.

Underneath the ground, lava was dissolving earth. It was eating up the
insides of the white peak. The white peak, devoid of life, blew its top
and spewed lava over the living jungle for miles around.

A giant flower of pulsing liquid fire opened up and drained its nectar
on the dense green ecosystem.

The warriors dropped the virgin and ran, eating up the distance
between them and safety. As chance would have it, the racing lava
chased down and dissolved each one of them. Id, a fantastic runner,
nearly escaped but was also submerged in the scathing fire.

The red butterfly, unlike humans, wasn't programmed to run from lava.
It didn't even see it was a few streamlets killed the flowers within
twenty feet of it. The larger blue and pink butterfly had flown closer
to the white peak and was torn down while sucking a flower.

Although a token stream of fire still poured out of the gaping hole
which had been White Peak, the air was already hardening the lava into
black barren, menacing crags of lava rock. Because of the warriors and
the virgin who'd died, the flat remains of the white peak would long be
considered the holiest site on the island. It would be known as "Center
Refuge".

Meanwhile, the jungle was dying. plants which had been killed
instantaneously by the lake of fire were only now collapsing, still
green into death. The red butterfly, sensing an unpleasant heat,
gravitated toward cooler air. So close to death, its wings beat in a
graceful, mechanical motion, not wasting a single cell of energy. Its
red body burned violently and sensually with life. It perched on a
giant, orange flower which bared its fluorescent interior to the
butterfly. The flower was waiting to give nectar and spread pollen on
the scarlet wings of the butterfly. A preying mantis was also awaiting
the butterfly. It hung passively, ready to leap, jaws open into its
prey.

The butterfly was about to perch on the lush flower but saw a limb of
the preying mantis, which all butterflies looked for before landing on
a flower. Mouth open, beady eyes glittering, the butterfly glided on
red wings to explore the insides of another flower. The butterfly is a
masterpiece of modern evolution.