They were a tribe, not some synth-pop, one-hit wonder, these men without hats. Most of their lives were spent hidden from view, hanging in limbo. But they had their pride and their heritage and that was something.
Most had forgotten the ritual and tradition that was part of their birthright.
Instead, their provenance had become an issue of clinical routine. Detached from their roots and incised from collective consciousness, fewer and fewer could understand the decision to undergo the sacrifice and many questioned the benefit conferred by membership in the tribe.
Some even questioned whether there truly was a sacrifice. They would not acknowledge the scars so plainly visible, or the evidence of beatings, or the general state of hardship which burdened the members of the tribe. The ignorance of these naysayers was of no consequence. Perhaps it was the stylish turtlenecks or the shiny raincoats which distracted others from understanding the true nature of the tribe’s climactic imperative.
The mere mention of the tribe had been known to incite outrage. This was the result of misunderstanding the tribe and the inherent difficult some people had getting their hands around the issue of how to deal with their uprising. It was generally accepted that the goal of the tribe was power and dominance, but what they trulywanted was to be deeply embedded in something greater than themselves. This ambition made it possible for them to stand tall and proud, their good eye squinting in the warm caress of daylight.
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