The Watcher: The Naming(Ric Wooldridge) THE WATCHER
-The Naming-

It’s called the Watcher because that is what it does. It watches. It observes. It never interferes with any action or event that occurs at any time. For some obscure reason, unknown to even itself, it exists only to watch. It is rarely seen and then it is only a construct of itself, it’s real being is hidden quite well. The construct bears an extension of its consciousness. Whatever a construct sees is instantly transmitted into the mind of the Watcher.

The physical features of the Watcher, and its constructs, are decidedly elfin. It has been an inhabitant of the Earth since creation, undying but not immortal. It resides under the surface of the Earth, hidden among the islands of the Pacific, because it is shy of contact with any other creatures.

Its life is not sustained as other terrestrial life forms, though Earth is the planet of its origin. It needs neither food nor water to sustain it, at least not as a fuel, for it thrives on beauty. Instead of fueling its stomach, it must fill its appreciation. It is the ultimate gourmet of life.

It has never, at any time, caused any living thing harm. Then, again, it has never done anything good, either. It just watches. It just observes. It stores what it sees. It never forgets what it has seen, therefore it would be a vast wellspring of knowledge if it could be persuaded to communicate. But, of course, nobody believes in it. It has been rarely seen by any creature. It is not lonely, it being happy in its own purpose and functioning as it was created to do. It is aware that great good could come to its planet home, if it were to make its knowledge available to the, so called, intelligent human creatures with which it shares its origin. But that thought is far from its mind, as it analyzes all things surrounding it. It sees the beauty in the good and in the bad. It is completely without conscience. The Watcher doesn’t judge. It just watches. It is incapable of judgment.

It sends out its constructs, to the surface of the Earth, through a small crater-like opening that is well hidden beneath the forest vegetation of its tropical isle. The construct emerges encased in a bubble shield which is nearly invisible. The bubble, in turn, makes its passenger nearly transparent, as it bends the light making it hard to identify from its surroundings. It may be seen by a very few, depending on their personal brain and eye coordination functions. This may account for the centuries, even millenniums, of stories of such creatures as elves, fairies, and leprechauns. If you were to see one, you would be seeing a small humanoid creature with a larger than human head bearing two pointed ears, two soft shaded eyes, a small nose and no mouth. Upon its head it has a fine white hair that is fine as dandelion fuzz. It is approximately four feet six inches tall, and is clad in a light gray coverall. It will see you, but it is very doubtful that you will ever even get a chance to glimpse it.

Over the thousands of years of human history, the Watcher has never felt a need to change. Yet the time of change had come. It had always been alone, never feeling the need for companionship. It needed no mate, as its constructs were just extensions of itself. Sometimes its constructs were destroyed, and that caused a momentary pain within, but that was part of its way of life and was of no real import. All of its constructs functioned well and many had been in existence from the first years of its own beginning. All were identical, and there was no telling them apart. But the oldest had begun to change. The transformation came so slowly that it went unnoticed by the Watcher. After all, it had no interest in watching itself. The constructs rarely came in contact with each other, and then it was just like the meeting of two hands that had come together to do a job.

In the fifteenth century, B.C., a new consciousness began to develop undetected by the Watcher. As one construct would transmit its observations, it began to form a opinion. It became aware of itself, as it also had become aware of its parent.

From the beginning, it had made a judgment that the Watcher would not be pleased at this new development. It found that it could still perform its functions, and it was pleased to do so, while not giving itself away. As it continued to observe, it also stored that same data which it sent for the nourishment of the Watcher.

Unlike the Watcher, this particular construct felt the need to interact. As it watched the Earth change, civilizations rise, stagnate and fall, it felt the desire to DO something. Still it carried out its primary function with non-interference. Then, one day, it was seen.

It was a little girl who was playing some distance from her house, beside the reedy pools along the Nile river. As it watched her, glowing with the youngster’s enjoyment of imagined motherhood, the little girl looked up and it was plainly obvious that she beheld it quite well. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened as she voiced an amazed “Oh!”

There was no fear in her eyes, only delight at seeing something new. The little girl’s delight caused the construct to pause where, under similar circumstances, it would have immediately floated itself from view. Instead, it returned the happy look as best it could, as it was unable to smile, waved in a small gesture and waited to see just what this little girl would do next.

She smiled and waved back with excitement, talking at great speed. She laughed and held out her little doll, which she had been mothering. It was made of papyrus and was clothed in coarse colorful attire. She was making introductions, and indicated that her baby’s name was Sari. Then she pointed to herself and gave her name, “I am T`atet.”

T`atet then asked, “What are you called?” But the construct could but shake its head. She asked once again, but then she discerned from the sad look in the construct’s eyes that it had none. She was a gracious little girl, mannerly and intelligent. She was exceptionally gifted with insight and empathy. She asked the construct if it would like her to give it a name. Again, from what she saw in its eyes, she saw that having a name would give it pleasure.

“You float on the air as a bird, a beautiful bird smelling of myrrh,” she said. “I think you are Tisp Pohr` Ptahshep, the bird boy. I am T`atet, daughter of Hotep Sechte.”

At that our construct friend nodded acknowledgment with a happy gleam in his eyes. The interchange made him feel strong and the beauty of the meeting awakened more than just a need for nourishment. This sweet little one had awakened his desire for contact, for communication. He raised his hand and laid the palm against the transparent encasement and brought it down within reach of T`atet. She, in turn, touched the spot where her new friend’s hand lay. There, of course, was no physical contact between them, but the gesture of friendship was golden to each.

Just at that moment, T`atet was called away from him by her mother, to return to her small brick house. T`atet’s mother was quite unable to see Tisp Pohr Ptahshep, though the two of them could plainly see her. All T`atet’s mother could see was her little girl gazing into the slowly moving clouds. “I must go, Shep,” she said. “I’ll come and play again, tomorrow.” She ran into the house.

That is how the construct of the Watcher got a name. On that day Shep began storing data separate to himself. Data that he would not share with his originator. Without realizing it, it was on that day that he took his first step to becoming an individual, apart from the Watcher. That was the last time that Shep saw T`atet. He was unable to remain in her vicinity any longer, but from that day he cherished T`atet and remembered her great inner beauty. And from that day forward, he thought of himself as Shep, the bird boy, though he was already thousands of years old.

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