Stories From the Old Attic
R >>
Robert Harris >> Stories From the Old Attic
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7
"Then what am I to do?" asked the king with dismay.
"You must seek the Infinite," the woman said.
"And where can I find it?" he asked. "What form does it take?"
"The Infinite is not a thing or in a particular place," said the
woman. "But seek Him and you will find happiness."
When the people saw that the woman was returning to her land, they
asked what she had said to the king.
"She reminded us of what we had forgotten," said one of the king's
scholars, "that we are but travelers through an ephemeral landscape,
and that on a journey through a desert, we should not expect to find
happiness from fingering the grains of sand in the dunes. We find
happiness by finding our way home."
The Day Creativity Met the Linear Dragon
It was a winter's rainy day when the new Vice President for Design
Concepts (who had just been promoted from Senior Accountant because
he could calculate to the nearest nickel how much a new car would
cost to build) noticed that two of his employees, a young man and a
young woman, were not at their desks. Upon inquiring, he was told
that they had "gone to the loft to be creative." The Vice President
(who could remember the part number of every component he had ever
touched) calmly adjusted his bow tie, cleared his throat, checked to
see that his shoelaces were still tied, and then strode briskly down
the long corridor of the half-remodeled automobile factory. Soon he
was walking up the stairs to the loft, only to arrive at a door
marked, "Do Not Disturb."
Viewing the sign as an affront to his authority, he applied Chapter
Two of the assertiveness training book he had just finished and
quickly opened the door with determination and a scowl.
What he saw was not what he expected. Near the door was a boom box,
playing very lively but not overly loud classical music. Directly
in front of him across the room he saw the young woman, barefoot and
wearing, instead of her business attire, purple sweatpants and a
torn green sweatshirt. Worse than this, she was turning cartwheels
and saying what sounded to him like, "Put it in the lake, dip it,
water proof it, French dip it, soak it, drench it, pinch it, wrench
it." When she stopped to attend to his interruption, he noticed that
her hair was rubber banded into a vertical column on top of her head.
The young man was sitting off to one side, wearing jeans and a
T-shirt printed with the words, "None of the Above." Nearby was an
open ream of copier paper, many sheets of which he had evidently
wrinkled up into a ball and tossed at a trash can a few feet away,
with highly indifferent accuracy. A few of the sheets had been
written on with multicolored felt-tip pens and placed carelessly in
several piles.
"What's going on here?" demanded the Vice President.
"We work here," said the young man.
"Not any more you don't," said the Vice President sternly. "Just
what do you think you're doing, anyway?"
"We're working on the new Blister DLX," said the young woman.
"I don't see any work being done here," the Vice President
shot back.
"We're thinking," the young woman said.
"This doesn't look like thinking to me."
"Oh? And what does thinking look like to you?" asked the young man.
"Well, it certainly doesn't look like this. This is goofing
off--and stop wasting that paper. Who are you, anyway?"
"I'm Scott and this is Tina," the young man said. "We're creative
analysts. We're working on cost-cutting ideas."
"Cost cutting?" sneered the Vice President. "You don't even have a
calculator. And besides, we've got engineers and accountants to cut
costs, so even if you were doing that, you'd be either superfluous
or redundant. I want you out of the plant by this afternoon."
That afternoon Scott and Tina went to the Vice President's office.
As Scott stretched out on the floor and began to spread out a few
papers, Tina pushed aside many feet of adding machine tape and sat
in the Lotus position on one end of the Vice President's desk. The
Vice President was not quite so upset that he did not notice that
Tina was wearing earrings made from crumpled balls of paper hanging
from bent paper clips. "We'd like to ask you to reconsider your
firing us," said Tina. "We have some good ideas for the Blister."
"Get out," said the Vice President.
The next day all the executives met at a regularly scheduled
administrative meeting, where there seemed to be some confusion and
delay in getting started. Finally, the President of the company
spoke up. "I'm sorry for the delay," he said, "but we had scheduled
a report on cost saving ideas by two of our top creative analysts
and it now appears that some idiot fired them yesterday. However,
we are in the process of getting everything straightened out, and
they should be here soon."
"I hope it's Scott and Tina," one of the other executives said.
"They're really brilliant."
"If unconventional," noted another.
"Unconventional or not," said the Chief Operating Officer, "I'll
never forget how they saved us eighty-six million dollars on the
Dazzle II by helping us reduce the number of parts. And when their
expense account came through, all they'd bought were radio batteries
and a couple of reams of paper."
"I remember that," said the first executive. "No fancy research, no
costly experiments, just pure thought, just great ideas. They
actually know how to think."
"What kind of a jerk would fire people like that?" someone asked.
And so it was that the new Vice President for Design Concepts was
invited to take his skills to some other company, even though he
could recite the exact cost of every part of every car the
corporation made.
The Wall and the Bridge
In the high country of a far away land there once stood a massive
wall, blocking the pass between two mountains. Just below the wall
was a path leading around the mountains--a path made possible by
a bridge connecting it across a deep chasm directly in front of
the wall.
Now, the wall and the bridge were always bickering. One day when an
old peddler leading an even older mule with a load of shabby wares
crossed the bridge on the way to a distant fair, the wall said to
the bridge, "You know, the trouble with you is that you have
absolutely no discretion. You let just anyone walk over you. In
fact, you're the slut of architectural forms, granting promiscuous
entry to all and sundry."
"Is the greenness I see all over you moss or envy?" replied the
bridge. "I enable people to fulfill their dreams; I provide
opportunity for a better life. You're just an obstructionist, but
I'm a facilitator--a metaphor for access, for hope, for possibility."
On another day a young maiden fleeing evil men ran across the rocks
until she reached the wall where she could go no farther. She cried
out and pounded her fists against the wall in despair until the men
caught up with her and carried her away. The bridge then said to
the wall in disgust, "You once accused me of having no discretion,
but you are worse, for you are completely heartless. You're so cold
and rigid that you cruelly prevent even the distressed and needy
from passing by. Maybe that's why walls are known everywhere as
symbols of 'No!' while we bridges are known as symbols of 'Yes!'"
"You, my loose and easy friend," said the wall, "indeed let the
distressed pass, but you also let the criminals pass. I, on the
other hand, provide the needed security to keep the land behind me
safe from harm. I am a protector, and I defend this pass and the
country well."
This dialogue continued for many years until one morning when
suddenly the earth shook with great violence. So strong was the
tremor that both the wall and the bridge were reduced to rubble at
the bottom of the chasm. Not many months later men came to repair
the damage. In the process of reconstruction, however, the stones
that were once part of the bridge were used to rebuild the wall
and the stones that were once part of the wall were used to rebuild
the bridge.
"Now I'll show you what a wall should really be like," said the new
wall. "It shouldn't be cold and rejecting to everybody." And so at
first, the new wall let many people climb up over it.
"And I'll show you what a bridge should do," said the new bridge.
"It shouldn't let just anybody across." And so at first, the new
bridge provided a difficult passage, causing many travelers to trip
on the surface and a few even to fall over the edge.
But as spring and summer, harvest and winter came and went again and
again, the rocks on the new wall grew more and more slippery and the
little projections gradually broke away, so that climbing over or
even getting a foothold became very difficult. And in the same
passage of time, the rough spots on the new bridge wore down and the
crevices filled up, so that passage across became much easier.
"You see," said the new bridge to the new wall, "you've learned
something about being a wall."
"Well," the new wall replied, "I've known all along that I must
guard the pass and fortify the defenses of the country. And of
course I know it's my job to keep out all those who don't belong.
But I see you've finally discovered how to be a bridge."
"You can say what you like," answered the new bridge. "But I've
always understood that I provide a critical link in the path
around the mountains, and that my purpose is to help travelers
across the gorge."
As the years collected, as years do, the new bridge and the new wall
began to think less and less about what they had once been and more
and more about the task they currently had to do, until eventually
it became impossible for anyone to tell that the new wall had once
been a bridge or that the new bridge had once been a wall.
"How indiscriminate and common you are," the new wall would often
tell the new bridge.
"And how inflexible and repressive you are," the new bridge
would reply.
The Wish
While walking along the beach one day, a man spotted an old,
barnacle-covered object which on closer examination he discovered to
be an ancient bronze oil lamp. "Hah! Aladdin's lamp," he thought,
jokingly. "I'll rub it." To his surprise, when he did rub it, a
genie appeared.
"Okay, Bud," said the genie, in a remarkably bored tone. "You have
one wish--anything you want. What is it?"
"Money," the man said instantly, his eyes widening. "Yes! Endless
money. Riches! Wealth! Ha! Ha! Huge, massive, obscene wealth!"
"I thought so," said the genie in the same bored tone.
"No, wait," the man said, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "Power. Yeah,
that's it. Complete and total power over everyone and everything
in the world. With power I could get all the money I wanted."
"So you want power, huh?" asked the genie.
"Well, yes," said the man, now a bit hesitant because of the genie's
less-than-enthusiastic tone. "Of course, with money I suppose I
could buy power. Which do you think I should ask for, Genie?"
"How about world peace or personal humility or an end to famine or
maybe an end to greed," suggested the genie, emphasizing the last
phrase. "Or perhaps the gift of discernment or knowledge or
spiritual enlightenment or even simple happiness."
"But with money or power I could buy or command all those," objected
the man.
"Yeah, sure," said the genie.
"Well, just give me power and I'll show you that I can have
everything else, too."
"You shall have what you ask," said the genie resignedly. "Whether
you shall have what you imagine you must learn for yourself, and you
will soon find out."
"Well, I certainly hope to have it all. Don't you ever hope, Genie?"
"Yes," said the genie. "I hope that someday my lamp will fall into
the hands of a wise man."
And so the man was given power over everything on earth, over every
government, every event, every activity of every soul. As a result,
his name was soon pronounced with hatred and contempt by everyone,
and in a few months he was assassinated by his most trusted followers.
Several One Way Conversations
"Yes, they are shackles, but they are made of gold," said the man, as
he asked for another pair on his wrists and two more on his ankles.
* * *
"You can see how great I am by observing what I have done," said the
chisel to the other tools, as they gazed upon the beautiful statue.
* * *
"My word is as good as my check," said the forger, as he handed over
partial payment and promised to pay the balance later.
* * *
"May you get everything you want," said the philosopher to his enemy,
knowing that his enemy would not recognize his words as a curse.
* * *
"I'll teach this dirt not to muddy my shoes," said the man,
shoveling madly, only soon to discover himself in a pit.
* * *
"Now I see how essential material things are," said the man, as he
looked at the ashes of his burned down house.
* * *
"How dare you, who are nothing but a low worm, try to tell me what
to do," said the man, as he stood there unmoving, just before the
piano landed on him.
How the King Learned about Love
Back in the days of knights and chivalry and courtly love, a
beautiful young woman fell in love with a man of noble birth, who,
however, was already married. Their love continued to grow until
the woman granted and the man took more than virtue could properly
countenance and one morning the woman awakened with the right to use
the pronoun "we" whenever she spoke.
She realized that she could not inform her lover because of his
position, for he was not only married but also a very prominent
member of the court. So she concealed the matter remarkably over
many months, until, in the fullness of time, it could be concealed
no longer. At that point she resolved to throw herself on the mercy
of her mistress, the king's daughter, to whom she was a lady in
waiting. She took her newborn son to the princess and begged quite
pathetically for her help.
The king's daughter, knowing that he was a hard man who had never
hesitated to crush, kill, or otherwise persecute anyone who offended
him in the slightest, realized that she could not tell the truth or
say simply that the child had been found during one of the princess'
walks, because the king would then send it to a harsh life in an
orphanage--and that would be if she found him in a good mood. She
decided instead to declare to the king that the child was her own
and take the guilt, together with any other consequences, upon
herself, for she loved her lady in waiting very much.
When the king learned that his daughter had given birth (or so he
believed), he was unutterably furious, and spent the better part of
an hour ranting and shouting execrations and breaking things. But
when he demanded which of his knights had helped her into this
situation, the princess, not willing to sacrifice any of the noble
and completely innocent knights of the castle, invented the story of
a secret lover from outside the castle walls.
The king suspected that his daughter was lying, or trying to
lie--for the girl was so honest that she could not dissemble with
conviction--so that he was now even more uncontrollably enraged than
before; he now began screaming directly at his daughter and breaking
larger and more expensive things. And because he could think of
nothing but her duplicity and disobedience and his injured honor and
her betrayal of his affection, he coldly (or rather hotly)
determined to banish her from the kingdom. "For," he argued, "I
will love not those who love not me." He therefore cruelly turned
the girl and the child over to the traders of a passing caravan from
a distant land who would take them past the borders of the kingdom.
Even as she saw her father's look of hatred as she was packed into
the wagon at the rear of the caravan, the princess did not alter her
resolve to keep her secret, for now she knew that if the king knew
the truth, her lady in waiting would most certainly be executed. As
for the lady in waiting, she was so stricken with grief over the
king's actions that she very nearly took her own life. But the
princess had commanded her never to reveal the secret, regardless of
the consequences, and the lady in waiting feared that the princess
would be exposed by such an action. So the woman, helpless to
remedy the situation, instead fled the palace in tears.
As the traders proceeded out of the kingdom, the princess resolved
that, whatever should happen to herself, she would not see the child
grow up a slave. She therefore watched carefully for an opportunity
and one night sneaked off from the traders as far as she could get
in the cold and dark, and put the child near a hut, hoping and
praying that it would find safety and a free life, however humble.
She then sneaked back to the traders, and pretended to be cuddling
the baby in her arms.
The caravan traveled two full days before her deception was
detected. When it was, the princess once again played audience to
violent anger. The traders yelled and cursed the girl; then they
beat her with fists and even with sticks, accompanied by more curses
and threats; but nothing they could do could force her to tell what
she had done with the baby. The traders, remembering the promises
made to them by the king to encourage the secrecy of their charges,
and fearing the consequences of a breach of that secrecy, sent
riders back over the route they had traveled, to search everywhere.
Meanwhile an old woodcutter, who lived in the hut with his wife,
found the baby and brought it inside. As they looked upon the
beautiful, healthy child, their eyes shone with a sparkle that they
thought had long ago disappeared forever. But even in their
delight, they recognized immediately that the child was no ordinary
foundling, for it had noble features and was wrapped in silks and
wore a gold brooch with a white lily on it.
They soon recognized that the child would need better fare than the
rough crusts and ordinary water the couple subsisted on--for they
were extremely poor--so they began to wonder how they could take
care of it.
"We could pick some of our neighbor's fruit at night," suggested the
woman, "or perhaps sell the gold brooch."
"Or we could cheat the king the next time he buys wood," said the
woodcutter sarcastically. "But we won't do any of those things.
You know that it isn't right to do wrong, even to bring good. God
has brought us this child; I pray that he will help us feed it."
Now, the old woodcutter had been saving a few coins from his meager
earnings over the past three years in order to buy himself a new axe
head in the spring. "But," he thought to himself, "I suppose I
could sharpen this old head one more season, and with a little
longer handle, it ought to be good enough to get my by." So he took
the money he had saved and gave it to his wife, instructing her to
buy the child proper food and raiment.
The old woman was so moved by this sacrifice that she took off her
locket--other than her wedding ring the only piece of jewelry she
owned, and an heirloom from her great grandmother, at that--and
contributed it to the welfare of the child. "For," she said, "I was
never so foolish as to believe that love had no price."
Just a few days later a rider from the traveling caravan arrived,
and visited the woodcutter's neighbor. Because the woodcutter was
not far away at the time, he overheard the conversation. "Have you
seen anyone with a baby in the past week?" demanded the rider roughly.
"Who's asking?" asked the neighbor, without excessive politeness.
As the woodcutter heard the angry, cursing, threatening reply of the
rider, he ambled back to his hut to inform his wife of what was
going on. The couple was quite shrewd enough not to reveal anything
to a rude, angry, and ill-dressed man on horseback, because, they
concluded that, however deficient their own hospitality to the
child, it was likely to be better than whatever would be offered by
such a ruffian. "And besides," the woodcutter's wife said, "I
already love the child too much to give him up."
As the days passed, the old couple grew thoroughly attached to the
baby. They both found themselves unexpectedly humming little tunes
or smiling for no apparent reason, and they both found their chores
suddenly lighter and easier. They worked faster, eager to finish
and once again spend some time playing with the child.
However, it wasn't many weeks before the old woodcutter and his wife
were forced to admit that they were simply too old and too poor to
raise the child as it should be, and that they ought in all fairness
to the babe to find a better home for it. "For," as the old woman
explained, "I love the child too much to keep him."
So the woodcutter took the child to a house where several holy women
lived and, after explaining the brief history of the child as he
knew it, asked for their help. "The wife and I don't have the
learning behind us, the money with us, or the years ahead of us to
raise this child as it ought to be raised," said the woodcutter to
the matron of the house, "so we'd appreciate it if you could find it
a proper home."
"Our small endowment provides us with only a modest living," the
matron said, "but we will care for the child until we can find out
whom it belongs to, or until we can find it a good home." So the
man left the child with them and went on with his wood cutting. The
matron of the house assigned care of the child to one of the newest
of the holy women, who could nurse it.
About this season in the kingdom, the queen gave birth to a son
also. The child, however, was weak and sickly, and failed to
flourish. In just a few weeks it developed a fever and died
suddenly in the night. The queen, in addition to her grief, was
frantic with anxiety, knowing that the king was such a hard man that
if he knew his only son had died, he would hate the queen and
perhaps divorce her. So she sent, with the utmost secrecy, a
trusted servant to find another child to replace the one she had
lost. "Bring me a child with no past," she told her servant, "and I
will give it a future."
Finding such a child was a tiring and frustrating task for the
servant, and he met with humiliation and rejection and insult and
false leads and failure at every turn. But since this story is not
about him, nor about the rewards of perseverance, let us say simply
that eventually he found himself at the door of the holy order of
women we have mentioned above.
"Yes, we do have such a child as you seek," the matron told him.
"We were keeping him until we could find his parents, or until we
could find him a good home. Perhaps your mistress, whoever she is,
will care for him well." The servant assured the matron that this
would be so and gave her a large gift to maintain the house and its
charitable work. As she handed him the child, she said, "The woman
who has been nursing the child says that this parting is like a
death to her, for she has become very attached to him. But she
loves him too much to think of her feelings. I hope that what is a
sadness for her will be a happiness for the child."
"Truly, good woman," replied the servant, "it is rightly said that
the death of every fruit is the seed of new life. Every ending is
also a beginning."
As the years passed, the baby grew up into a fine, strong young man.
The king, who remained crusty and harsh toward everyone else,
changed completely when his son (as he supposed) entered the room.
The king became actually friendly and laughed some and often engaged
in animated conversation with the young prince. The king was often
heard to say that he would never let the prince part from him even
for a day but that the prince should be his always. They often rode
on horseback through the forest all day or sat together by the fire
until the servants fell asleep, discussing the kingdom and enjoying
each other's company.
When the prince reached his early manhood, the king not only took
him into confidence on affairs of state, but began to share power
with him, knowing that not many more years would pass before there
would necessarily be a new king. Many of the king's decisions were
now submitted to the prince before they were made, and the prince,
to his credit, frequently moderated the king's stern and often
cruel decrees.
By this time, the queen was in poor health, troubled by constant
pain and a lingering cough. Everyone at the court eventually
recognized that she was about to die. For several days the queen
debated with herself whether or not to let the secret of the prince
die with her, but at last, showing the heritage of her daughter's
honesty, she decided that she must reveal it to the king.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7