I solved my life’s problem.
The subjunctive was supposed to be the most versatile, subtle, blatant, and poetic of moods. So why, by its nature, would it have no future tense?
By its nature . . .
I’d used that phrase so many times in formulating the question, “by its nature,” when asking the question to myself. Yet not once did I ever think to look in its nature for the solution to the problem, while that was where the answer lay this entire time.
Before anything, I laughed. Laughed at myself, at what I’d asked, and how I didn’t see it. My abdominal muscles contracted painfully at the incapacitating absurdity, but the more I thought about it, the more the laughing hurt, as though the pain were punishment at my having been so blind. How could I have taken so long to penetrate to the root of the matter?
Of course, having lived the life of a pony on the premises of a changeling, and seeing where that had gotten me, I know why now. The answer had always been there, but I couldn’t see it, having lived in the subjunctive for so long.
The more I thought about the answer, the more everything around me seemed to fit into it. The ponies lacked vulgar ways of expressing things—except for the sailors, who spoke a dialect whose subjunctive mood persisted in a greater force. While we, the changelings, invented new swears every day. The ponies spoke directly, while we spoke in metaphors and evasions.
Who were they? The indicative. Who were we? The subjunctive. How did they live? Through facts. How did we live? By the hope that those who made facts would be there for us to feed on. It wasn’t just a difference in moods and language but a difference in how we thought. Natural language does not occur independently and regardless of nature and culture; rather, it, like anything else living, changes and adapts to fit the situation. Our tongue changed through a process of thousands of years into the one that we spoke when we rose on a whim and fell when it did not hold.
I understand why the subjunctive is an afterthought for them: because theirs is a society of the indicative, a factual one, whereas ours was a society of the subjunctive, a parasitic one. They deal with facts, concretes, and absolutes; we dealt with fears, wishes, and desires. And wishes never raised iron for buildings; fear did not permit them to build a city on the side of a mountain; a mere desire did not move trains. But fear that we wouldn’t have enough raided those buildings; a wish to survive at the expense of all else blackened those cities; and a desire to not face what was in front of me had halted the train.
In their language, the word parasite is a pejorative.
The problem was solved. My career was over. No longer did I have to do any research. And it took only the death of an entire species.
I had no paper on which to record my findings. Instead, I dragged myself to the beach and, with a large tree branch, traced these words in the sand:
THERE IS NO FUTURE SUBJUNCTIVE
BECAUSE THERE IS NO FUTURE IN THE SUBJUNCTIVE
Over the next few hours, the tide indifferently washed away these letters.