You and the porcupine pull through the winter together. You’ve become quite fond of each other by now, sharing your deepest secrets and desires. She reveals that she’s female, and you in turn reveal your own sex. You even tell her one night about your metaphysical memory from that night when you chipped your claw. She listens raptly, believing every word of it. When you’re done, she promises to give it some thought.

You stay together even during the warm months. Separately you look for mates—you in the spring, she in the fall—but, as remarkable as the experience is, they’re merely the parents of your children: you never see them again. You help your friend raise her children—she tells you they’re her second litter. Eventually, due to wanderlust on your part, the two of you move to another part of the woods where the trees are taller and there’s more light from a nearby field. Your lives, though, remain largely unchanged. Your platonic friendship is clearly destined to last a lifetime.

“I think there may be a reason I feel so content,” she says to you one night.

“What’s that?”

“Because for me, the ultimate goal of life, I think, is to find a connection. One that really matters, the stronger the better. Even if it’s to a meat-eater like you.”

“You feel like I’m the fulfillment of your ultimate goal?”

“I think so. Given that you’re always there for me when I need you...I can’t think of what more I need.”

You lie in silence for a while. “But I’m not content,” you say. “I can’t help but think there’s more. What good is a connection, really? You need to be connected to something more important than yourself.”

“That’s just it,” she responds. “I am connected to something more important than myself. You. But I’m not more important than you, so you still feel malcontent.”

You think about it. “Then if I can find someone more important than me, I can be content, too. But is that really it? Can that really ever accomplish anything?”

She stirs and flattens her quills, and you cozy up. “If the chain of important people goes farther and farther, eventually it must lead to something really important. Somebody who can change the world.”

“Creator,” you suggest.

“Maybe. Or someone else who knows what the real ultimate goal is. For everyone in the world...not just you or me.”

You find yourself taken by this notion. It’s compelling, and it means that a burden you never really felt you deserved to bear alone isn’t really yours at all. You only need to be one link in the chain, and eventually you’ll be part of the ultimate structure; you’ll reap the benefit.

But one thing troubles you. “I should go out and look for someone who’s more important than me, then. To befriend them. But...I don’t want to leave you.”

“You don’t have to leave me, silly! I need to stay connected to you, after all. You can always come back to me; I’ll be here.”

“But what if...what if I come back and you’re gone? What if I...forget you?” Your voice trails off in humiliation at the thought.

“Oh, you silly thing. In that case, I’ll come with you,” says the porcupine. “We’ll go find your upward link of the chain together. Agreed?”

You couldn’t be more happy to hear this. “Agreed.”

—Take me, mother, guide me to the place I need to be...
Everything is blinding, and you know how to see.
Only you know what I have to master to be free.
Take me, mother, guide me to the place I need to be...

—Child, your eyes are wider than mine could ever be...
You only feel blind because you see things I can’t see.
I just want one thing from you, and I’ll live happily:

Promise me your offspring’s will open even wider...
Just promise me that they’ll be wider still.

-End-

This is one of the 80 endings of What Is Best?  To unlock all the other choices along the way... buy the book!

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