"Here in the twenty-first century we’re surrounded by proof that we tend to live our stories...."

Here in the twenty-first century we’re surrounded by proof that we tend to live our stories. As I brought this section to close, one last synchronicity directed my attention to an article in New Scientist’s February 12, 2011, issue about work of William Casebeer of the US Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), based in Arlington, Virginia. Casebeer, a neurobiologist, goes so far as to suggest that certain narratives are as addictive as cocaine, commenting on the effects a compelling yarn might have upon the minds of enemy soldiers or suicide bombers. He is convinced that we should be investigating the military potential of stories, by creating “counter-narrative strategies” engineered to undermine or oppose the religious or political storylines that inspire war, oppression, and greed.

We may scoff and leave it to military experts to develop a technology whereby a cadet is told a story so convincing he believes he’s superhuman before a battle, but I’d like to think that magic words and spells belong to the rest of us as well. If Pico is correct, we can write new lives and new futures, and, more important, live them. Stories can break hearts or foment revolutions. Words can put electricity into our hearts or make our blood run cold. And the idea of Superman is every bit as real as the idea of God.