How the Speaking Tree died
N
o one in the tribe could remember who discovered speaking trees first. The squat, ugly tree was the quickest means to get in touch with other tribes. The way it worked was that you spoke into the hollow in its trunk and the tree conducted your voice through its network of roots to other speaking trees across the world.Of course, this meant that anyone standing near a speaking tree could hear you, even if they were not meant to, but it beat running across forests with sabre-toothed predators nipping at your loin cloth.
One day, a group of strangers walked into the village. They carried a magic seed. Planting the seed, they told the tribe, would yield the Ivy of Individuality. No more shouting into a speaking tree hoping the right people heard your voice. The Ivy of Individuality would let the tribespeople speak to exactly those they wished to.
It showed the tribespeople friends from days long gone. Tribes united. Old lovers rekindled relationships. Angry spouses called lawyers. People spoke and sang and argued and agreed and the Ivy of Individuality made sure every single person had a voice. It was everything the strangers promised.
The world became a smaller, cozier place.
One day, a tribeswoman decided to go on a long journey. “I cannot carry the Ivy of Individuality with me where I go,” she told her people, “but I will find a speaking tree to speak into. Will you hear my voice?”
“Sure” said the tribespeople, but they never did. The Ivy, it turns out, fed on speaking trees. The trees were silent–strangled, all nutrients siphoned away, dead. All that remained was the ivy, and it was everywhere.
And that my friends is how they killed the RSS feed.