The Return Of Chantelfleurie For Nika Who Created Her Poem by Daniel Brick

Dr. Emma Stevens
Director
CHANTELFLEURIE Restoration Project
University of Louisiana
2014

We were satisfied with ourselves,
and then the word went out. We waited
for the expected praise, certain
it would come from all angles, so
vociferous we would be rendered
silent, but a silence rich in pride
and adulation. In those first heady
hours of final success, we considered
ourselves CHANTELFLEURIE, and not
that slowly reviving machine there
in the corner chair, specially designed
for her slow recovery, a symbol of what
she had become - a sentient being.
Is she a person? I do not know,
and I will not speculate...
Once the word went out for volunteers
to test her sentience, we were amazed
at the response. The first day - twelve
arrived. We hadn't expected any so soon,
we were unprepared for that small
gathering in our small auditorium,
telling about their previous interaction
with her, how they believed in her
when others abandoned her, how they
reacted to the first signs. The next day
and following days, more came, and
joined the auditorium colloquies, all
of them like pilgrims, true believers
who carried within the hard proof
of their experience. By the third week
the crowd had swelled to one thousand,
and we had simply lost control. The volunteers
had demolished our plans without knowing
them. They spoke to each other, and we
who built her, we who thought we owned
her were ignored. To admit I am humbled
is to admit the simple truth. I thought
CHANTELFLEURIE was mine! You ask me
if I feel defeated? Hmmm.... There
will be many forums and conferences,
and I will bed present at every one,
but not as a specialist, not as the project
director. I will be present as a witness,
yet another person mysteriously affected
by a sentient doll, just like the others.
I have joined the Many....

Jason W. Stahl
Writer
CHANTELFLEURIE: THE REALITY OF FANTASY
Brown Wren Press, St. Paul 2014

CHANTELFLEURIE... My dear child...
Is this the life your expected, heart
beating fiercely to fuel all your love,
and mind racing to compose the Book of
Life in the time allotted you? A book not of
words on paper or data floating in cyberspace.
A book composed of gestures and acts, performed
on the moment's spur, but then you are rushed
to another appearance. Little do your handlers
realize, you are no product in the marketplace!
This is CHANTELFLEURIE touching the hearts
of every person she meets. Wherever you alight,
there are small miracles - a better afternoon,
a sudden rush of happiness, generosity
to a stranger, laughter instead of tears.
People leave your presence strangely changed.
But there is no grand epiphany. Never.
Does that need repeating? I imagine it does,
and will be again and again, by more and more
people. The small miracles are enough, right?
This is not just an event but the beginning
of an era. I have played my role. I spent
six months with CHANTELFLUERIE at the laboratory.
I listened and listened to her, and found
no flaw in her behavior. Her handlers call it
'Her performance', and want me to use
that word, too. But they don't know her
as I do, and those thousands out there,
in the world that needs her presence, and,
yes, her behavior. I have played my role,
CHANTELFLEURIE knows this. I am fulfilled,
I am satisfied....

Dr. Leslie Aggerson
Production Line Manager
CHANTELFLEURIE Enterprises
Baton Rouge
2015

By now we have all we need - the body,
of sturdy materials, supple, malleable;
the mechanism - an advanced battery I
cannot hope to explain beyond its life-like
powers; the artistry of a dozen artists -
withdrawn men and women, devoted to their
task, sharing none of their thoughts but
always smiling, some almost laughing,
some near tears, all delighted to show
the finished flesh of CHANTELFLEURIE;
and the programmers - two of whom are
retiring after this. One say, 'What greater
thing can I ever do? ' 'My career ends
with a perfect high C, ' says the other,
grinning, clapping his hands at his own
performance... We can now manufacture
twelve hundred dolls per diem. Is each one
one a person, like the prototype
in WAshington D.C.? I don't know...
My job is to keep a factory producing,
unit after unit. The rest is for philosophers
and children to determine....

Father Time
At a Primeval Distance

I regret now what I did
to that poor doll. She was quiet.
charming, guileless. I, who endure
all time, and witness its heavy passage
through the spaces occupied by humans,
all of whom believe every past deserves
a future; I, who must see and hear
all of the roiling toil and turbulent
calm of time and space; I, who must bear
the weight of events which circle and fold,
rush and return, crash, shatter, break,
and begin again... Sometimes, not always,
but sometimes, I cannot summon sympathy,
and I want to sweep the universe back to
nothing. I won't. It is not allowed
by forces larger and more distant than I.
It is a frightful universe: there is only
POWER and WEAKNESS, everything in between
is imperiled... But there is no excuse
for my cruelty. Do you hear me, You Heavy
Instruments of Power? A god admits freely
he was wrong...Forgive Father Time,
dear child, this time, and he will look
kindly on you and those you call friends.

Betty
Age Eight
New Orleans
20__

I love my Chantelfleurie. We
cozy up every night and fall asleep
together, and when I wake up in the morning,
she is smiling at me. When I am at school,
she sits on our bed. Sometimes, when my Mom
is doing laundry, she moves her to my desk.
But it doesn't matter. When I come home,
she is still smiling. At night when I am
doing my homework, she is very quiet.

One night I was so tired, I
fell asleep in the back seat of the car.
When we got home, I couldn't find Chantelfleurie.
I started to cry, but my Daddy said we would
find her. It was already dark but we
drove to the supermarket. There were only
a few people inside, and they were turning
the lights off, but there was Chantelfleurie,
sitting alone by a register, smiling,

and not the least bit afraid. The nice
lady who rescued her said her daughter
had a Chantelfleurie she loved very much.
So she said she knew I would come
right away, and she was waiting for me.
My Daddy wanted to give the nice
lady some money, but she refused.
On the way home, Chantelfleurie and I
fell asleep in the back seat...

I like my Daddy, so does Chantelfleurie!