The Motions

'And what do you know of Marx?' he exclaimed, a twang of sarcasm in his voice. 'I know he was certainly wrong,' the other said without contempt. 'Perhaps he has only yet to be right,' he tapped his cigarette on the ash tray, and brought it to his mouth but not quite there and let it hang, the smoke rising until it touched the yellow light above. The other scoffed. 'Your prophesies are open ended. Every prediction has been lost. The empire is dead. Admit your savior was a fraud.' 'I admit the second and the third, but will say nothing of the others. And I only give you this much because they were not true to their heritage.'

'I ask you to look at your institutions and tell me you do not see concentration of capital? I ask you whether your workers and tell me that you do not see the stagnation of their wage. And finally I ask you that you do not see an end to what the earth will give.'

He paused, and smiled knowingly, 'The predictions were indeed incorrect. They relied on details were not yet determined, on structures that were yet to exist. But the prophecies, you forget, are based on nothing other then your capitalism's most basic nature. And this will be your undoing.'

It was the other's turn to laugh with sarcasm. He said no more, and left the beggar on the street, returning to his righteous palace.
- posted by Sigurd6/28/2004 09:35:00 PM