A Short Story by Eric Corson
And the thinkers and tinkerers started their machine, and the machine made sounds in the manner of machines. Then, when the machine had finished, it gave unto the thinkers and tinkerers of the time the names of those it considered to be the least and the greatest in the joys of men. The thinkers and tinkerers said unto themselves, "Surely we are now the wisest in the world, for we know what manner of things cause joy and sorrow in the hearts of men." But the youngest of the thinkers said, "Shall we not test these, our answers, to make ourselves certain that we have not failed in some way in the creation of our wondrous machine?" So the thinkers and tinkerers of the day travelled to the home of the man who was greatest in the things that create joy in the hearts of men.
And the thinkers recognized the name, for he was famous, and a friend of the Caesar of the time. At his home, the tinkerers were astonished, for he had many things of the making of men. Upon his porch, the thinkers were astounded, for the beauty formed by the will of man on the natural order was great indeed. Within his home, the tinkerers were amazed, for he had within his possession many of the great works of pen, brush, and chisel by the hands of men through all time. At his the very door of his office, the thinkers were overwhelmed by the comeliness of his servants and the beauty and grace of his wife. And they all said unto each other, "Surely this man is the greatest in joy in the manner of men, for has he not jooyous things above all men?" The thinkers and tinkerers were admitted unto the man they sought, and though he was to be the greatest of all men in joy, he was curt with them, for he had many other things to attend unto. And they asked of each other, "Why is it that he pursues more of the things of import to men, when he has so many of that manner of things already? And why is it that he pursues loveliness and comeliness, when the woman, his wife, is of a certainty the most desirable on the face of the earth? And why also seeks he after places yet unseen, when he has been unto the four corners of the earth and has seen what it offers unto him?" And they left the place, deeply perplexed.
Then sought the thinkers and tinkerers the name that their machine had given unto them as he who was the least in the joys in the manner of men, and lo this person was a she, and to be found in a place for the keeping of the infirm who are to die. And the thinkers and tinkerers recognized not the name, 'Maglariel Rajk', nor recognized they the city nor even the country of her residence. The thinkers and tinkerers travelled to this far place from the land of their abiding, and entered this city. Within the city, the tinkerers were dismayed by the state of it, for the air was grey, and the streets and building were brown. Upon the streets, the thinkers were discomfited by the people, for they walked slowly as if they knew happiness not, and no color was upon their faces or in their clothing. At the door to the house for the sick and infirm who are to die, the tinkerers were distraught by the dirt on the floor and the grime over windows and upon every surface. Within the building, the thinkers were overcome by the apathy uf the workers therein to those who were wick, even wick unto the point of death, and by the manner of those who were incarcerated here, prisoners unto their bodies rather than unto any government of men. The thinker and the tinkerers were shown unto she who was to be the least in the joys of all men by a worker of the house for the inform who was old and full of years, and whose hair was white in the manner of those who are old and full of years. She who the thinkers and tinkerers sought was aged severely, and, unmoving, confined to a single hard bed. The sheets around her were soiled as would a pig's sty be also, and her face and body were disfigured. Her words were garbled, and the worker in the place answered for her unto the thinkers and tinkerers. "What is your age upon this earth?" asked the tinkerers of the old woman. "My skin is parched and dry, and cannot feel the passing of the seasons, so I cannot know." answered she unto the tinkerers. "She came into this world over a hundred and twenty season ago as men count the years." said the worker of the house of the infirm who are soon to die. "When came you unto this place?" asked the thinkers. "I have been here longer than any other, but as I am blind I cannot see the days to know the time." answered she. "She has been here for more than eighty winters as men count the years," said the worker unto the thinkers. "On what fare subsist you, from day unto day?" asked the thinkers and tinkerers together. "As my palate is old and by scent of smell diminished to nought," said she, "I cannot know nor can I care on what fare my life continues." The thinkers and tinkerers agreed among themselves that here was indeed a piteous creature, who could barely hear all of the sounds of the world, who lived in darkness, and had no pleasure from food. She had little care from the workers in the place, and had no future. Surely, said they, she lives also in the worst of surroundings, and cannot be happy. So, the thinkers and tinkerers decided among them to leave her roses three, and go their way unto comfort and luxury to discuss what was wrong and what was right with their machines and theories of why the men of the world receive joy, and the manner in which the live. So the flowers were placed in her lap, and the thinkers and tinkerers made as if to leave that home for the infirm and the sick unto the point of death.
"What are these that have been put near me?" asked the old woman. Answered the yougest of the thinkers, "They are roses to brighten your life." "Push my bed, for it has wheels," said she, "unto the bed of he who is by the window and losing his sight." So the youngest of the thinkers pushed her bed, and light it was with nought but soiled sheets and her frail body upon it, unto the man who was by the window and becoming blind. "Here is a rose, given unto you." said the old woman. "From whom is this yellow rose, which can fill my dimming eyes with last to be seen beauty?" asked he to whom the rose was given. "It is from He who calls the sun in the morning every day, and I give it to you, for I cannot see it in my blindness." answered the old woman.
"Push my bed now unto the woman in the corner, whose hearing leaves her." said the old woman, and the youngest of the thinkers obeyed her again, and pushed her bed unto the corner, where a piteous woman lay. "Here is a rose, given unto you." said the old woman, again. "From whom is this white rose, whose silence mirrors my future soon to be?" asked the woman going deaf. "This rose is from He who makes all sounds, raucous and sweet, and calls me 'Ariel, and I give it to you for I cannot feel its thorns or its petals." answered the old woman.
"Push my bed once more, now unto the person by the door, whose very life is fleeing." said the old woman, and the youngest of the thinkers obeyed her yet again, and pushed her bed unto the door. "Here is a rose, given unto you." said the old woman, yet again. "From whom is this red rose, whose color is the blood flowing ever slower in my body?" asked the person dying by the door. "This rose is from Jesus, who recieves unto Himself all who believe upon Him, and I give it to you for I cannot smell it myself." answered the old woman. "Blessed be you for your mercy, and for the perfume to fill my nostrils during my dying breaths," replied the other. "Tell me more of Him who sent this rose."
And the thinkers and tinkerers were amazed when they saw this, and deeply perturbed. "Surely we have made some mistake in our designs, and our machine is faulty, for certainly those whose minds are not right cannot know their circumstances, and therefore cannot be included." And they left to their theories and ideas, not willing to live with the knowledge they had gained. Yet the youngest of the thinkers stayed at the home, and asked the old woman, "Surely, you are cursed beyond all men. How then keep you this joy you display?"
"Surely I am not cursed," replied she, "I am blessed with hearing, however distant, and speech, however hard, and my seasons upon the earth have been long. He who comforts me on this earth waits for me to come home, this have I been blessed to know."
And the youngest of the thinkers stayed in the colorless country, and brought color to it, and he learned more about the joys and the sorrows of men than any of his companions who departed unto their own land.
Where does happiness come from?
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