Before the Sky Fell

[ 16 ] At the Bottom of Everything: Part 1

-16-

At the Bottom of Everything: Part 1

Whik scratched his fingers along the frayed ridge of his schoolbook. Frankford Millstone's voice drifted in one ear and out the other, but the rest of the children seemed to be fixated on his teacher's words. They sat, with books in hand, beneath the Talking Tree. A white flower landed on Whik's schoolbook. He wiped it away with tiny fingers.

The white of the buds and green of lush grass flickered with color, and it was then that Whik realized he was dreaming. I can control it. He stared at each of his classmate's faces. I'm dreaming. I'm young.

"Whik Winfield," Millstone said with a deep voice, like an echo through a canyon, "What is greater: one zero or two zeroes?"

I know this. I've been here before. Whik put a finger to his chin and deliberated the question."I would guess that neither is greater. They're the same."

Frankford smiled. "And what is worse: living your life believing in fairies just to die and learn of their falsehood, or living your life believing in nothing to find that your fate lies in fairy's hand?"

"Well, you're dead either way," Whik said. "So both?"

His classmates chuckled. He was at once fearful of another of Frankford Millstone's outbursts of anger, yet nothing of the sort came. Frankford ran a hand along his chin. "Whik is correct, but is there a third option? What if there are fairies? Then there is surely a risk in not believing if these fairies will decide your fate. But this risk requires energy, energy that you may not get back. That same energy you could use to craft your own fate. To fight against theirs." Frankford stared at the ground for a while then, as if the class had disappeared and he was sitting alone beneath the Talking Tree.

"I'm dreaming," Whik blurted out.

Millstone smiled. "We all dream, Whik. We dream of what we ate for last night's supper. We dream of the things we didn't say and the times we couldn't change."

"But I'm dreaming right now, right this instant. And I'm young. I'm really young. What happened to the older me?"

"Hush," Millstone told him. "You are acting exactly your age. Class, we have not been born with a given understanding of the meaning of life. Anyone who teaches otherwise is a fool. But we have been gifted with an ability to use our minds to reach provable conclusions." Frankford lifted his arms and looked to the towering tree above the students. "We've been fortunate enough to find this island where we can explore these thoughts and theories, just like we were able to in Hemonstalia. We have to keep spreading the word of acceptance and exploration into all possibilities. If Susan wishes to believe that we were sprung from blades of grass, would she be so entitled? Margaret?"

Margaret Rinley fiddled her fingers beneath a section of her dress. She sat silent. A torment of rosy red spread across her cheeks. Millstone relieved her of her embarrassment. "So long as her belief doesn't harm anyone else around her, then yes, she can believe in grass as the higher being."

"Then we sure are surrounded by a lot of higher beings," Whik said, unable to control his voice. The children broke into laughter.

"Alright, jester of Sebolt," Millstone said. He supported his body with his arms and lunged himself off of the tree trunk. "Indeed, she can believe in whatever she wants. Until someone can show us facts, beyond visual observations and cloudy ideas, then all possibilities must be considered and tested. Whik, since you are such an all-knowing being, please recite for us the poem I assigned to you all this week."

Whik grimaced. I'm dreaming. I don't have to do this. I don't. Yet he couldn't help himself. His teacher asked him a question and suddenly he realized he'd dug himself into a hole. He had read the poem countless times, sure, but reciting it to his classmates was a different story. His phantom friend poked his head around the tree trunk. No one else could see him though. Whik liked it that way.