This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Arcane_NH on 2024-11-04 21:15:02+00:00.
Once upon a time. In a backwater province of a land far far away, named Aqua Dorsal, at the end of a winding 42km road that rose 1,000 meters from the port at the start, lived a human.
He was known by many titles: Sage, hermit, holy man, guru, shaman, oracle, wizard, the creepy old man in the mountains, and several other less pleasant terms. If anyone asked Neil, for that was his name, what he preferred, he would have said, “Teacher.”
However, he was rarely asked. Those who came to him, and walked the road had other, more IMPORTANT, questions. While the pilgrims may start the journey with many burning queries, they were only promised a single answer when they rang his bell.
Neil could be quite stubborn in enforcing this. He once remained silent for 8 days and perfectly still for 17 hours when a Very Important Person would not stop asking questions. In the end, those who had arrived after the VIP threw him down the mountainside.
Questions were usually philosophical in nature: Why are we born? / Why do we die? / Why do we spend so much of life wearing digital watches?
Teacher Neil tried to remain above it all, but some questions broke his heart: How do I grieve? I’ve never done it before. Asked the young man. / When does the hurting stop? Asked the old man. / How do I get away from him? Asked the betrothed. / Please, Holy Man! Just tell me, what is wrong with my baby? Wailed the mother.
There were more practical questions too: How do I make more money? Asked the wealthy man. / How do I win this war? Asked the general. / How do I make my subjects love me? Asked the tyrant. / How do we make music that moves people? Asked the four musicians with long hair.
Neil almost regretted answering that last one. For they did make music that moved people, gained quite the following, and went and wrote a song about him. Suddenly, it was fashionable to ask him a question. The increased visits, especially among the well-to-do, did help repair sections of the road, build a new aid/evac station, and replace his roof. However, as the quantity went up the quality went DOWN.
What are the winning lottery numbers? 8, 25, 37, 42, 58, 59, and 14, will eventually be the right numbers / What is the answer to this crossword clue, seven letters Notable Tower? TRIPLEA / Why do you live all the way out here? At first, it was to make sure I only got questions worth answering. Now, inertia I guess. / Am I the reincarnation of Shirley MacLaine? No, she is an autumn, and you are most definitely a winter.
The last question broke Neil. He was old, he was tired, he ached. His head ached, his back ached, his feet ached, and the second joint on his right ring finger ached. It would rain soon. He made his way to bring the bell in for the evening early. He seriously debated if he would return it in the morning, or if he would send word down to the port that he had “gone fishin’” for a few days/the rest of his life. Even old men on the mountain needed time off now and then. He decided not to decide but to table the question until after breakfast.
Neil had just lifted the bell off its stand, he swore it got heavier every year when he saw the top of a head coming up the path. The face that appeared was sun-kissed but unlined. His eyes still held the wonder of youth and were taking in all the natural beauty Neil had become numb to. Neil guessed the man, boy really, had recently completed his compulsory schooling.
The boy’s clothing was new and expensive but not luxurious. The pack on his back was also new and was obviously filled with care to be as light as possible. He carried himself with a refined dignity and practiced humility, like a prince attending a ball in a foreign land.
When the boy saw Neil holding the bell, a flicker of disappointment danced across his face before being squelched by years of training. Silently he let his pack fall from his shoulders and started the process of setting up camp.
Neil debated internally for a moment but eventually settled on, “What the hell. Even if the question is as asinine as the one about hot dogs and buns, at least this kid will be able to carry my message down to the harbor master.” With a grunt, he placed the bell back on the stand.
The boy heard the grunt, looked up, and quickly made his way to the bell. He took the striker from Neil’s outstretched palm and gently tapped the bell at the sweet spot, just hard enough to let all the overtones ring. When the echoes faded away, the boy spoke.
“Great teacher, sooner than I would like I will be put in a position much like yours. Many will come to me seeking answers and decisions. Money will flow, society will shift, and people will die upon my word.” He paused seeing his fate before him. “I started on this journey seeking the answers to life’s persistent questions. The hike has given me time to be alone with my thoughts, a rare luxury. As I walked the things I could ask you changed, diverged, and merged until at last here I am and I am left with what is perhaps a fool’s query.”
“How do I ask the right questions?” asked the scared boy. His dignity was cast aside and training forgotten.
Neil smiled lovingly. He bade the boy collect his things, while he lifted the bell again with renewed vigor. Together they entered Neil’s home. This was a question worth answering, but it would take time.