The flag was American, and right now was being watched. The flag was waving ironically in the summer anti-breeze. Just one of those days, the Watcher supposed. The Watcher watched things, every day, to pick up subtle contradictions.
"So how do you watch television, The Watcher?" a nearby child asked, unwary of the Watcher's processes.
"I watch it to make sure it doesn't jump up and eat me," the Watcher intoned, verbatim from his manual. There were answer manuals that Watchers could read, before and after they technically were certified Watchers.
"But what happens if you eat a television, The Watcher? Must you live in fear of your stomach?"
Uh-oh, thought The Watcher. There was nothing in the manual about this. I will have to improvise.
"Uh...no. If I eat a television it ceases to be a television, by virtue of its newfound unwatched nature. And no one has to watch unwatched things. I don't have to watch it. In fact, I don't have to watch anything that is unwatchable. Why, that is absurd. Move along, child."
"But what about God? Or the subjective experience? Or love? Or immanent forces of power? Aren't these all unwatchable, and therefore beyond your domain? What about the very process of watching." Uh-oh, thought The Watcher. There was nothing in the manual about this. I will, again, have to improvise.
As the child spoke the flag ripped itself off from the flagpole and started to move away from the pole, but not in the breeze. Now the flag was splitting and moving away from the Watcher. Or was it...multiplying?
"None of those things exist. What cannot be watched ceases to exist, by that fact alone. A television, even one that is eaten, is in principle watchable, perhaps by a vicious bear that could rend my stomach and throat in two, and reconstitute its television atoms from only what it finds in there. However, no eyes can ever watch God."
As The Watcher spoke the flags were consciously mounting their own poles in various positions on the great field, in every direction. Without number, without form, without essence moved the multiplied flags, and still, The Watcher thought he saw a pattern in the arrangement of the massive collection. However the child was fixated on the Watcher's peculiar voice. In between all his improvised words, the Watcher emphasized his confident tone with certain syllables that didn't quite match up with any language. His "What do you think of that?" seemed not like a threat, not like rote recounting, but not calm or expressive at all. The words were exactly the opposite of expression, not only muting but cancelling out expression. "Were all Watchers like this?", the child thought.
The child hesitated and then began. "I think you're not a very good Watcher. Maybe that's wrong of me, but you should have a better answer to all these questions." Now, all the flags were unwavering in the new, creative summer breeze. The Watcher continued to watch the multiplying flags as the child continued his insane, off-the-cuff interrogation. "What are those flags doing, anyway?"
Just then The Watcher looked with unfairness and realization on the great structure of the new flagpoles. And just then fell to one knee, and just then died.
Just then, the child took The Watcher's manual and took the airship home. He would be the best Watcher ever, and would never take the shortcuts and abstractions of his predecessor. Life would be as clear to his mind as it truly was. Just then would be his judgements.
As he was flying over he noticed the flagpoles were in the shape of...a giant flagpole with an American flag ripping off. The child was terrified, and determined, from first principles, that this pattern would multiply again and again.
"So how do you watch television, The Watcher?" a nearby child asked, unwary of the Watcher's processes.
"I watch it to make sure it doesn't jump up and eat me," the Watcher intoned, verbatim from his manual. There were answer manuals that Watchers could read, before and after they technically were certified Watchers.
"But what happens if you eat a television, The Watcher? Must you live in fear of your stomach?"
Uh-oh, thought The Watcher. There was nothing in the manual about this. I will have to improvise.
"Uh...no. If I eat a television it ceases to be a television, by virtue of its newfound unwatched nature. And no one has to watch unwatched things. I don't have to watch it. In fact, I don't have to watch anything that is unwatchable. Why, that is absurd. Move along, child."
"But what about God? Or the subjective experience? Or love? Or immanent forces of power? Aren't these all unwatchable, and therefore beyond your domain? What about the very process of watching." Uh-oh, thought The Watcher. There was nothing in the manual about this. I will, again, have to improvise.
As the child spoke the flag ripped itself off from the flagpole and started to move away from the pole, but not in the breeze. Now the flag was splitting and moving away from the Watcher. Or was it...multiplying?
"None of those things exist. What cannot be watched ceases to exist, by that fact alone. A television, even one that is eaten, is in principle watchable, perhaps by a vicious bear that could rend my stomach and throat in two, and reconstitute its television atoms from only what it finds in there. However, no eyes can ever watch God."
As The Watcher spoke the flags were consciously mounting their own poles in various positions on the great field, in every direction. Without number, without form, without essence moved the multiplied flags, and still, The Watcher thought he saw a pattern in the arrangement of the massive collection. However the child was fixated on the Watcher's peculiar voice. In between all his improvised words, the Watcher emphasized his confident tone with certain syllables that didn't quite match up with any language. His "What do you think of that?" seemed not like a threat, not like rote recounting, but not calm or expressive at all. The words were exactly the opposite of expression, not only muting but cancelling out expression. "Were all Watchers like this?", the child thought.
The child hesitated and then began. "I think you're not a very good Watcher. Maybe that's wrong of me, but you should have a better answer to all these questions." Now, all the flags were unwavering in the new, creative summer breeze. The Watcher continued to watch the multiplying flags as the child continued his insane, off-the-cuff interrogation. "What are those flags doing, anyway?"
Just then The Watcher looked with unfairness and realization on the great structure of the new flagpoles. And just then fell to one knee, and just then died.
Just then, the child took The Watcher's manual and took the airship home. He would be the best Watcher ever, and would never take the shortcuts and abstractions of his predecessor. Life would be as clear to his mind as it truly was. Just then would be his judgements.
As he was flying over he noticed the flagpoles were in the shape of...a giant flagpole with an American flag ripping off. The child was terrified, and determined, from first principles, that this pattern would multiply again and again.
This isn't anything like Flannery O'Connor you liar!
ReplyDeleteThis isn't anything like Jorge Luis Borges you liar!
Also it's a lot worse than both. Weirdly enough this is one of the first instances of dialogue in anything I've written for this blog, so...yeah, that shows you how little I was really attuned to what readers wanted from a vignette, if indeed they wanted one.