Southwest 5

Calvin Crackstone thought of the mystery this way. All ruins are in the past. That's exactly what he told that Lieutenant from the Mystical Police six months ago. “Lieutenant Heraclitus, as far as I'm concerned, this mess is all in the past.” Of course the Lieutenant saw things in a different light. If the Lieutenant were in this canyon presently, Calvin Crackstone mused, he'd probably cross this canyon stream and investigate those sandstone ruins as if they were still populated by happy Anasazi. He'd see things differently even in this desert light. Just as he did six months ago in that moonlit New England September night. “Look, Mr. Crackstone, all I know is that there's a body over there and so I'm here, and I'd like some answers from you over there.” Calvin listened to the stream running through this desert like a bolt of petroglyphs carved within a silent sandstone canyon wall, remembering what he had said to Lieutenant Heraclitus that New England night six months ago. “If it's all the same to you, Lieutenant Heraclitus, and since it so happens that it's my body over there, this suspect here thinks the issue at hand is strictly personal.” The Lieutenant had the last words though. “Mr. Crackstone, personally, I believe that nothing in this universe is strictly personal.” Even the Anasazi had to laugh at that one.

~Son Rivers 2006