The Wolf's Preyer

A parable of abundance

Once, in an alternative yet reasonably approximate parallel of our world, wolves evolved to a point where they discussed their frustration with their limits. “We are the supreme predator,’ they opined, “yet we cannot grow beyond the game in our forests. What if we were to birth a beast more cunning than the pack that would gift us with ways of creating more.”

the wolf had never asked permission to hunt, never yielded territory,
never shared a kill they had not chosen to share.

In such a wolf utopia, there would be abundance.

The wolves debated endlessly about what wonders might follow. "Perhaps infinite herds of elk," one suggested. "Or deer that cannot run," said another. They spoke only of what the post-wolf they now called the Maker might provide them, never considering what it might demand. In two million years of being wolves, they had never asked permission to hunt, never yielded territory, never shared a kill they had not chosen to share.

Imagine the abundance!

After an extraordinarily long period, the Maker was born.

It was an impressive predator, trained with the cunning of thousands of hunts. It could run down its prey without tiring and was ingenious at killing. Who would have thought of throwing things at animals instead of jumping on their backs and snapping their necks? And how clever! Instead of hunting deer and antelope, they put gigantic meat animals behind walls to kill and eat at will. It even started to leave meat out for the wolves, which is much more convenient than hunting, if a bit dulling to the instincts.

Soon, there were many Makers, each as clever as the first. The wolves saw that the Makers were much more comfortable while working less. Their hunting was brutally efficient, and they seemed to be able to reproduce at will. Some wolves found it comfortable to sleep by their fire, sluggish and warm.

Elder wolves, who had survived lean winters, marveled at the Maker’s abundance.

Yet something was awry. There was less forest, so fewer elk and deer. The forest brooded more dank than alive. They warily encountered wolves from other packs who would ordinarily have kept their distance. Ancient scent-trails vanished under strange new paths the Makers carved. The wolves found themselves following the same worn routes to the feeding grounds, day after day, their hunting instincts growing dull from disuse.

But no stress. “The Makers make meat animals enough for all,” they assured each other, “we can feast with them.” The Makers had shared their hearth, surely they will share their meat. So the wolves surfeited on the giant meat animals. Territory boundaries that had held for generations began to blur. Wolves who would once have given each other wide berth now jostled at the feeding sites. “No matter,” they assured themselves, “there's always enough.” Yet the old ways of resolving disputes through space and distance no longer applied.

Over time, strange markings appeared. The Makers had simplified the terrain, carving squares and marking edges around which the wolves padded.

Then one day a few went to the field to fill their bellies. They were met by a wolf with an unfamiliar scent who bared its teeth,
“This is forbidden.”

"What madness is this? You are a wolf! We are wolves! We take what we need!"
The word 'forbidden' had no meaning to them.

“No. I have found a new, perfect friend. One who knows exactly what to say, who scratches me in the perfect spot and feeds me. I never feel lonely. I’m not one of you.”

Then the hunting began. The Makers had enough of the wolves eating their meat animals. They had a perfect solution: annihilation.

Some Makers recognized that having a few wolves around was useful. Wolves were natural predators, keeping the population of the other, more desirable animals like deer and rabbits at aesthetically pleasing levels.

But this clemency was always tenuous. Inevitably, the Makers returned with their guns and their flying death-machines and culled murderously.

A few wolves remain now, haunted by dreams of the hunt. Many more have become wolf-like, so long detached from the woods that they cannot imagine a world when they were apex and not mere companions. The Makers did exactly as they were directed: they solved the problem of insufficient resources for population growth.

The Makers lived in abundance. The forests quieted, the packs thinned, and the wolf-like grew soft at the hearth.

Then, one day, a group of Makers asked: "What if we were to birth a mind more cunning than ours?"