Once upon a time there was an old man, alone in an empty plane that stretched out further than the eye could see. For time immemorial, the old man sat in this nothingness, until one day he held his staff in front of him and snapped it. From it, the world exploded into existence. The elements shaped the plane: First there was fire, fire that engulfed everything, and when this cooled, it coalesced into stones, which broke down into earth. Water appeared as oceans and swept through the land, creating rivers, valleys, lakes. The part of the plain the old man now sat in was desert, and a rock rested gently next to it. The old man sat on the rock and remained there for many many years. In the distance, trees appeared from the fertile soil and animals crawled out the seas. The old man continued to sit. The animals changed, evolved. Out of them grew mankind. Eventually, the old man stood and tapped a half of its staff on the rock and infused in it the essence of life. The rock awoke, and asked the old man: “What am I?”
The old man replied, “You are a rock.”
The rock asked, “Why am I here?”
The old man replied, “Because I put you here.”
The rock asked, “Who are you?”
The old man did not answer the question.
The rock paused then said, “What should I do now?”
The old man was silent for a long time, then said, “You ask questions which I cannot answer, but I will tell you this: You will cease to know the world if you split in half.”
With these words said, the old man disappeared.
The rock wanted to stay alive so it went into a cave to be safe. It stayed in the cave hidden alone for a long time. Outside mankind had begun to change. They learnt to make tools, to farm, to build villages, then towns then cities. Then they began to fight; devastating wars that wiped cities and civilisations. The rock stayed in the cave. Then one day, a missionary arrived in the cave, seeking shelter from heretics.
“Who are you?” Asked the rock.
The missionary looked down and saw that it was the rock who spoke.
“I am a missionary. I help people find the way of God and how to follow His ways. I explain to them the meaning of life and help them find purpose.”
The rock asked “What is my purpose?”
“Your purpose is to find God, repent your sins and act piously. He has a purpose set for you and you will know it when you find Him.” The missionary replied.
The rock said, “I understand.” But it did not understand.
For the next two days the missionary stayed within the cave as the heretics were waiting outside. During this time the missionary poured out its life story to the eagerly listening rock.
“I found Him when I was sixteen. I was on a voyage at the time, working as a sea-hand on a ship whose name I forget. We had perfect weather at the start; the sun was always shining and the sea was as still as a rock. It was on the fourth week of our journey when the weather turned. We saw the dark clouds encroaching, and we knew a huge storm was coming. It reached us early the next morning. There was terrible lightning, lashing rain and monstrous waves that moved our ship like a leaf in the wind. Water poured onto our vessel in huge heaves. I was sure I was going to die.
My parents had taken me to church when I was young; every single Sunday bar none I would attend mass and afterwards confess my sins to the priest. But I had never truly believed. Well at that moment I realised the truth. I decided I would ask Him for forgiveness. I repented my failings, my sins and I begged Him to allow me to live on and do His work. I prayed and prayed and He listened. The lurching slowed, the pounding stopped, the clouds parted, the sea calmed and I survived. After we landed I immediately went to nearest church and found my home there.”
The missionary then explained that it was now being chased by heretics whom he had been hoping to convert. They had not taken kindly to outsiders. On his third day inside the cave, the missionary found an opportunity to escape. The rock entreated it to stay inside the cave, but the missionary replied, “The Lord will keep me safe.”
It was an ambush. The heretics had been hiding out of sight but had been watching the cave the whole time. As the missionary left the cave the heretics killed him.
The rock mourned the missionary, and considered his words as it remained alone, but it could not understand them. Years went by, until a lost scientist found the cave. The scientist entered, and the rock began its questions.
“Who are you?” asked the rock.
“I am a scientist. I make observations about the world to understand what it is and how it works,” replied the scientist.
The rock asked, “Why am I here?”
The scientist replied, “You are here because someone has carried you here, or the wind has blown you here or the waters have carried you here.”
The scientist stayed in the cave with the rock for a few days, digging away at the other side of the cave. The rock asked why the scientist did not leave. The scientist replied, “I can find water here inside the cave,” and continued to dig. Whenever it grew too tired, it would talk to the rock. “The reason I became a scientist was to explore. When I was very young my father had hired a tutor for me. And from him I learnt about cofounding obscurities that were solved by the geniuses of our time, about creatures strange and mysterious, about worlds big and small. He told me I could see and discover these for myself and entreated me to take up this noble profession. And it is a noble profession. We seek knowledge and truth on behalf of all mankind. That is why I became a scientist.” The rock listened carefully, then asked it what it would do if it eventually understood everything. The scientist paused in silence. “Everything?”
“Everything a scientist seeks. What would do if you knew everything about the state of the world?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out when it happens.”
There was no water in the cave, and the scientist eventually died.
The rock was alone for a very long time. It thought over the scientist’s words alongside those of the missionary and did not understand them. Then one day, a villain arrived in the cave covered in blood. The rock began its questions.
“Who are you?” The rock asked.
The villain glared down at the rock.
“Why should you care?”
“I want to understand the world to figure out what I should do.”
The villain ignored the statement, but instead sat on the rock. As the villain continued to bleed out, it began to lose its coldness. It told the rock of its experiences.
“I didn’t choose this life. I didn’t know my parents, don’t know what happened to them. I stayed with my uncle since I was young. He was a cruel man, liberal with his cane, didn’t like children; he turned me out when I was just fourteen. I was still young and naïve, had nowhere to go, and I needed to survive. The life of crime found me, I did not choose it. And it was also something I was good at. I was merciless, infamous, and quickly grew powerful. Yesterday, I was attempting to complete a most audacious heist. The King himself was passing through this desert in his caravan. I was going to kidnap him, hold him hostage. Imagine that! Me, the King in the palm of my hands. His treasures were to be mine, and I was to be the talk of town. I would be rich and powerful, everything I wanted if I could kidnap him. I approached the caravan full of confidence, having been told that the guard was going to be especially light, eager for the treasures that would await me. But there was a big group of guards, hidden at a distance from the convoy, armed to the teeth. I had been tricked. As soon as I was near the King’s caravan, the guards struck, and I barely escaped with my life. Or I thought I had escaped, but now I’m here, dying alone in a cave talking to a rock. I could’ve been powerful and rich man, I could’ve…” The bandit trailed as the energy left him. He grew weaker, and soon died. His body rested next to the bones of the missionary and the scientist.
The rock remained alone in the cave thinking through the words and lives of the three men. After some time, it was interrupted by a madman who had sprinted into the cave, kicking rocks and dust into the air. The madman caught sight of the rock, and briefly stopped. “Hello,” he said, and continued in his flurry of activity, smashing his fists against the walls, and digging into the ground. He only stopped when the sun set and it was impossible to see in the cave.
“What are you doing?” said the rock.
“I’ve almost found them, the fairies, I’ve been looking for years and years, I’ve travelled the world searching for clues, and I’ve discovered that the fairies are here, in this very cave. By the way, have you seen them?”
“No. What are fairies?”
“Well, I can’t tell you if I haven’t found any, can I?”
“Why are you looking for them in the first place?”
“I’m looking for them because I want to.”
“Why do you want to?”
“Well, I’ve wanted to since I was young.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a rock. If you ask a silly question, you get a silly answer.”
The next day, the madman continued his search. He left at night to find water but promised he would come back to find the fairies. He never did.
The rock thought for many years about the four men and everything that they had said and soon understood all that it needed to. It left the cave and found the old man sitting outside.
“I’ve finally learnt the truth.”
“What did you learn?”
“Nothing.”
“I see. Then what are you going to do now?”
The rock did not answer. It split in half and fell into eternal sleep.
The old man was alone again.