Story time came early one evening, before the encroachment of the shadows upon Sky Ark. There was still time left before I needed to return to the Outworld. So Strawb invited me to follow her on an adventure, exploring the interior of her house. Having been inside only a few times, and only then to the puzzle room, as Lucy referred to it, I looked forward to looking around the mysterious, windowless house.
We left Lucy outside in the backyard to entertain the regulars, continuing to read from The Adventures Of Billy. Having already heard all about Billy, I was ready for some new diversion.
Strawb went inside the house to show the trio of newcomers around and eagerly I tagged along.
"Do you really live here?" one of the newcomers named Tracy asked.
"Where else would I live?"
"It's dark and spooky in here," she complained.
"It's dark but hardly spooky. Why, the spooks were long ago chased from this house!"
"But there are no windows."
"And for good reason. Windows leak. Good riddance to them, I say!"
"I thought you ate them?" I said.
Strawb laughed. "Who told you that?"
"A letter carrier, the first time I came here--"
"The first time most recently?"
"Yes, well, when I came to make the computer delivery, I stopped to ask directions."
"Whatever for? I told you exactly how to get here."
"Your directions didn’t make sense."
"Do they make sense to you now?'
"Uh, yes, but—"
"Then, they were exactly correct, weren't they?"
"Anyway, I stopped to ask directions from a letter carrier and he told me about the windows."
"And you believe whatever absurd things an Outworlder tells you?"
"I'm an Outworlder, by your definition, anyway. So are they?" I indicated the children.
"These are my babies!" Bending over to corral them in her arms, she protected them from my blasphemous assault on her version of truth and reason. "They have not had their minds stolen from them. I refuse to allow them to hear such rubbish, that they are Outworlders! As for you, what's wrong with you can be fixed, Carlos, as I have told you many times already."
"Then what happened to your windows?"
"My windows? I don't have any windows."
"The house had them at one time, right?"
"There were never any here because there never needed to be any. I refuse to allow leaks in my walls - same as my avoiding a hole in my roof!"
"But they let light inside and they allow anyone who is inside to see outside."
"Why would you want to see outside when you've chosen to be inside? If you prefer to be outside, then go outside! You don’t stand inside lamenting that you're not outside. Windows are pointless leaks and potentially dangerous."
"How are they dangerous?"
"Have you ever fallen through one?"
"No, I can’t say I have."
"Then you're lucky. And don't stand too close to any or you eventually will. Windows create the opportunity to fall through them. That's the best reason ever to never have a window!"
She went on to answer another child's question as she continued the tour. I decided to be quiet and listen. Nearly everything I said proved to be wrong, anyway. Strawb was better than my wife at pointing that out to me.
When the three's tour was completed, she dispatched the children to the backyard for playtime – seeing that Lucy was standing up and had obviously finishing the story time. Then she turned to me. "The book."
I nodded. Ostensibly, I came along with the tour of the house to assist her in locating the book she told me about - the one she claimed would help me better understand everything about anything. I continued to reserve judgment on any book's ability to do such a thing for me, but it piqued my interest. She told me it was necessary for me to reread it – claiming I had read it many times before, but I had no recollection.
"Wouldn't the book be in the library?" I suggested as I peered into a room containing many filled book cases. Other books were stacked on chairs, tables and a desk or directly on the floor. To me it seemed an obvious place to begin looking for a book.
"If a book is lost, it certainly would not be in there."
"How do you know that? I mean, there must be thousands of books in there."
"Yes, there are and none of them are the book we're seeking."
"But isn’t this where you keep your books?"
"Keep books?" she questioned. "I don't keep books. It's simply not done here. It is a crass suggestion, keeping books. In the Outworld it refers to accounting which is something no one needs any more knowledge of than is natural. Anyone can count. Knowing when there is enough is whenever you've lost interest in counting. This is a room for the books to rest, that's all. It's their room, not mine. I have never kept a book in all my life and I certainly will not begin it now. They are free to come as go as they please. They do that often enough and very well, mind you. That's why you go into a library. Always there's a new arrival and some old friend who has returned with fresh twists on what you think you knew before. It would be nonsense trying to keep books!"
"Wasn't the book we're looking for here before?" I asked as I stepped inside.
"First of all I'm not looking for the book. Perhaps you are, but that will only lead you to frustration, I assure you. Second, yes, the book was here before. It is a library after all."
"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look there."
"I'm not looking," she insisted. "That's the problem. Your assumption is all wrong."
"Okay, then." I ventured further inside.
"Suit yourself, but you'll never find it in there."
"Why not?"
"Do you know what the book looks like?"
"It looks like a book." Shrugging my shoulders I began looking around.
"What color is it?"
"I don't know? You tell me."
"Is it hard cover or paperback?"
"Give me a clue."
"You're hardly clueless. You take the clues you have and look for more. Don't expect anyone to generously offer theirs to you. At any rate, you've come back to asking for my advice anyway, so why not take it in the first place. The book is not in there."
"I'm trying to be logical."
"Then don’t be. The book is forever lost."
"Then, you're saying it's hopeless to find it?"
"It's not hopeless. It's pointless looking for it, though. It's forever lost. Obviously, it would never be where it should be. That makes a library precisely the wrong place to begin looking for a book that's forever lost."
"It just seems there are so many books in there, it could have been overlooked in your previous searches."
"Previous? When would I have ever searched for anything that's forever lost?"
"Then how would you find it?"
"If I were to look for something, it would presume I had lost it, which is not the case at all. It is merely hiding very well. We must sneak up on it while we're doing something else. That's the way you must find anything that's run away and is hiding from you."
"Do you lose things easily?" I asked.
"Why would you ask such a silly question? Of course, I don't. I have never lost a thing in my life. That's not to say that things don't like to play hide and seek with me. That's the way of things, though. It's their way of having fun. Far be it from be to spoil fun. So, we must always play along."
I laughed. "So you've never lost anything but things hide from you."
"All the time."
Continuing to laugh, I decided to follow her on the off chance her unorthodox method of searching actually worked.
"I suppose you’re going to tell me things don't hide from you."
"I wouldn't say that. But my kids are often responsible for things I've lost, though."
"You blame them?"
"They're kids. Eventually things turn up, usually after I've replaced them."
"You embarrass your things into coming out of hiding. You're no fun at all!"
"I seem to lose the TV remote most often. But I'm convinced the couch hides that from me. Usually, it’s swallows it."
Strawb paused, turning to stare at me, then scolded, "Don't talk about malicious couches around the children."
"I was trying to be funny."
"Well not very."
"Usually, when I lose something, it’s because someone else had taken it from where I expected to find it – claiming they borrowed it, if they confess to it at all."
She laughed. "You may as well blame the faeries, then. Sometimes those things are lost forever, especially if the faeries traded them away."
"Faeries steal things?"
"No, no, no, they always borrow things. They would never steal anything. It's just they never put anything back where it belongs, making it difficult if not impossible to find what they borrowed."
"So the faeries borrowed this book we're not officially looking for?"
"Whatever would they want with a book? It would take a dozen of them to spirit the thing away. It is not a small book. It contains everything about anything, you know?"
"I'm glad. I wouldn’t want to upset any faeries," I said.
"Yes, it's not wise."
"I was being facetious."
"Why? Have you made a habit of messing with faeries?"
"No, not that I know of. I've never seen one."
"Because they are best at hiding, of course...and surreptitiously borrowing things."
"My kids and a couple of neighbors could teach them lessons, I'll bet – the latter being the reason I keep my garage door shut even when I'm working in the yard."
Strawb shook her head without direct comment.
"I'm just saying."
"You have odd rules where you reside, Carlos. It gives me a headache considering how anyone could live in the Outworld. It has always impressed me as a mess that never improves."
"Sometimes it makes sense."
"Maybe to you. I can see my work is cut out for me with you. To teach you anything new at all, you must unlearn three things, at least."
"Why would I want to do that? Wouldn't I end up knowing only a third of what I did before."
"What you know is mostly useless to you, isn’t it?"
"Maybe so," I allowed.
"There you go, then. You can afford to unlearn many things, I think."
"Well, it's not like I'm going to run out of room if I learn a few new things. People only use about a fifth of their minds."
"Whoever told you that?" she asked.
"Scientists."
"What do they know?" Strawb laughed. "Why, I assure you I have forgotten more things than any of them will ever know."
"So I need to forget three things to learn one."
"Did I say that?"
"Well, yes."
"Most certainly I did not! Why would I want you to forget anything? You've already forgotten quite enough."
"To make room for more things?" I suggested.
"Oh, now, I see the confusion. You think unlearning is forgetting."
"It's not?" I stared at her, feeling more confused.
"No, it’s quite different, actually. You can unlearn anything you know well. Later on, you can relearn it quickly. Didn't you tell me to know Chinese?"
"I learned it to a certain level. I haven’t kept in practice so I've forgotten—"
"No, you've unlearned it, not forgotten it! You can go back to it and it’s still there. All you have to do is reacquaint yourself with the thoughts. For it to be forgotten, it would be as if you never learned it at all."
"That actually makes some sense."
"Why wouldn't it? It's the truth. The truth always makes sense – which is not to say everyone believes the truth."
"People prefer being deceived."
"No, people are easily deceived. There is no preference involved. You've forgotten so much, Carlos. I wish you'd unlearned it. It's very unfortunate how much has been lost."
"I learn quickly."
"But how quickly do you remember? That's what you should be asking." She reached into a dark corner with both hands, producing a physically large, thick dark brown leather-bound book with gold leaf writing across the spine and front. "You see, there it is! Exactly where I would have never looked." She handed the book to me.
"This is it, the book that will teach me everything about anything?"
"The book cannot teach you anything you don't want to learn from it. But yes, everything about anything is contained in that book."
Starting to open it, she slapped the back of my hand. "You do not open a book like that in a dark corridor. It's just not done!"
"Why? I was just going to peruse it a bit."
"It will blind you, of course."
There was no point in arguing with her. Knowing that from experience I tucked the volume under my arm and followed along as we backtracked, navigating to the back porch of her windowless house where she told me I could open the book. I sat on the swing with the book across my lap as I opened it. Lucy came to sit beside me, taking a break as Strawb continued playtime with the children.
We left Lucy outside in the backyard to entertain the regulars, continuing to read from The Adventures Of Billy. Having already heard all about Billy, I was ready for some new diversion.
Strawb went inside the house to show the trio of newcomers around and eagerly I tagged along.
"Do you really live here?" one of the newcomers named Tracy asked.
"Where else would I live?"
"It's dark and spooky in here," she complained.
"It's dark but hardly spooky. Why, the spooks were long ago chased from this house!"
"But there are no windows."
"And for good reason. Windows leak. Good riddance to them, I say!"
"I thought you ate them?" I said.
Strawb laughed. "Who told you that?"
"A letter carrier, the first time I came here--"
"The first time most recently?"
"Yes, well, when I came to make the computer delivery, I stopped to ask directions."
"Whatever for? I told you exactly how to get here."
"Your directions didn’t make sense."
"Do they make sense to you now?'
"Uh, yes, but—"
"Then, they were exactly correct, weren't they?"
"Anyway, I stopped to ask directions from a letter carrier and he told me about the windows."
"And you believe whatever absurd things an Outworlder tells you?"
"I'm an Outworlder, by your definition, anyway. So are they?" I indicated the children.
"These are my babies!" Bending over to corral them in her arms, she protected them from my blasphemous assault on her version of truth and reason. "They have not had their minds stolen from them. I refuse to allow them to hear such rubbish, that they are Outworlders! As for you, what's wrong with you can be fixed, Carlos, as I have told you many times already."
"Then what happened to your windows?"
"My windows? I don't have any windows."
"The house had them at one time, right?"
"There were never any here because there never needed to be any. I refuse to allow leaks in my walls - same as my avoiding a hole in my roof!"
"But they let light inside and they allow anyone who is inside to see outside."
"Why would you want to see outside when you've chosen to be inside? If you prefer to be outside, then go outside! You don’t stand inside lamenting that you're not outside. Windows are pointless leaks and potentially dangerous."
"How are they dangerous?"
"Have you ever fallen through one?"
"No, I can’t say I have."
"Then you're lucky. And don't stand too close to any or you eventually will. Windows create the opportunity to fall through them. That's the best reason ever to never have a window!"
She went on to answer another child's question as she continued the tour. I decided to be quiet and listen. Nearly everything I said proved to be wrong, anyway. Strawb was better than my wife at pointing that out to me.
When the three's tour was completed, she dispatched the children to the backyard for playtime – seeing that Lucy was standing up and had obviously finishing the story time. Then she turned to me. "The book."
I nodded. Ostensibly, I came along with the tour of the house to assist her in locating the book she told me about - the one she claimed would help me better understand everything about anything. I continued to reserve judgment on any book's ability to do such a thing for me, but it piqued my interest. She told me it was necessary for me to reread it – claiming I had read it many times before, but I had no recollection.
"Wouldn't the book be in the library?" I suggested as I peered into a room containing many filled book cases. Other books were stacked on chairs, tables and a desk or directly on the floor. To me it seemed an obvious place to begin looking for a book.
"If a book is lost, it certainly would not be in there."
"How do you know that? I mean, there must be thousands of books in there."
"Yes, there are and none of them are the book we're seeking."
"But isn’t this where you keep your books?"
"Keep books?" she questioned. "I don't keep books. It's simply not done here. It is a crass suggestion, keeping books. In the Outworld it refers to accounting which is something no one needs any more knowledge of than is natural. Anyone can count. Knowing when there is enough is whenever you've lost interest in counting. This is a room for the books to rest, that's all. It's their room, not mine. I have never kept a book in all my life and I certainly will not begin it now. They are free to come as go as they please. They do that often enough and very well, mind you. That's why you go into a library. Always there's a new arrival and some old friend who has returned with fresh twists on what you think you knew before. It would be nonsense trying to keep books!"
"Wasn't the book we're looking for here before?" I asked as I stepped inside.
"First of all I'm not looking for the book. Perhaps you are, but that will only lead you to frustration, I assure you. Second, yes, the book was here before. It is a library after all."
"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look there."
"I'm not looking," she insisted. "That's the problem. Your assumption is all wrong."
"Okay, then." I ventured further inside.
"Suit yourself, but you'll never find it in there."
"Why not?"
"Do you know what the book looks like?"
"It looks like a book." Shrugging my shoulders I began looking around.
"What color is it?"
"I don't know? You tell me."
"Is it hard cover or paperback?"
"Give me a clue."
"You're hardly clueless. You take the clues you have and look for more. Don't expect anyone to generously offer theirs to you. At any rate, you've come back to asking for my advice anyway, so why not take it in the first place. The book is not in there."
"I'm trying to be logical."
"Then don’t be. The book is forever lost."
"Then, you're saying it's hopeless to find it?"
"It's not hopeless. It's pointless looking for it, though. It's forever lost. Obviously, it would never be where it should be. That makes a library precisely the wrong place to begin looking for a book that's forever lost."
"It just seems there are so many books in there, it could have been overlooked in your previous searches."
"Previous? When would I have ever searched for anything that's forever lost?"
"Then how would you find it?"
"If I were to look for something, it would presume I had lost it, which is not the case at all. It is merely hiding very well. We must sneak up on it while we're doing something else. That's the way you must find anything that's run away and is hiding from you."
"Do you lose things easily?" I asked.
"Why would you ask such a silly question? Of course, I don't. I have never lost a thing in my life. That's not to say that things don't like to play hide and seek with me. That's the way of things, though. It's their way of having fun. Far be it from be to spoil fun. So, we must always play along."
I laughed. "So you've never lost anything but things hide from you."
"All the time."
Continuing to laugh, I decided to follow her on the off chance her unorthodox method of searching actually worked.
"I suppose you’re going to tell me things don't hide from you."
"I wouldn't say that. But my kids are often responsible for things I've lost, though."
"You blame them?"
"They're kids. Eventually things turn up, usually after I've replaced them."
"You embarrass your things into coming out of hiding. You're no fun at all!"
"I seem to lose the TV remote most often. But I'm convinced the couch hides that from me. Usually, it’s swallows it."
Strawb paused, turning to stare at me, then scolded, "Don't talk about malicious couches around the children."
"I was trying to be funny."
"Well not very."
"Usually, when I lose something, it’s because someone else had taken it from where I expected to find it – claiming they borrowed it, if they confess to it at all."
She laughed. "You may as well blame the faeries, then. Sometimes those things are lost forever, especially if the faeries traded them away."
"Faeries steal things?"
"No, no, no, they always borrow things. They would never steal anything. It's just they never put anything back where it belongs, making it difficult if not impossible to find what they borrowed."
"So the faeries borrowed this book we're not officially looking for?"
"Whatever would they want with a book? It would take a dozen of them to spirit the thing away. It is not a small book. It contains everything about anything, you know?"
"I'm glad. I wouldn’t want to upset any faeries," I said.
"Yes, it's not wise."
"I was being facetious."
"Why? Have you made a habit of messing with faeries?"
"No, not that I know of. I've never seen one."
"Because they are best at hiding, of course...and surreptitiously borrowing things."
"My kids and a couple of neighbors could teach them lessons, I'll bet – the latter being the reason I keep my garage door shut even when I'm working in the yard."
Strawb shook her head without direct comment.
"I'm just saying."
"You have odd rules where you reside, Carlos. It gives me a headache considering how anyone could live in the Outworld. It has always impressed me as a mess that never improves."
"Sometimes it makes sense."
"Maybe to you. I can see my work is cut out for me with you. To teach you anything new at all, you must unlearn three things, at least."
"Why would I want to do that? Wouldn't I end up knowing only a third of what I did before."
"What you know is mostly useless to you, isn’t it?"
"Maybe so," I allowed.
"There you go, then. You can afford to unlearn many things, I think."
"Well, it's not like I'm going to run out of room if I learn a few new things. People only use about a fifth of their minds."
"Whoever told you that?" she asked.
"Scientists."
"What do they know?" Strawb laughed. "Why, I assure you I have forgotten more things than any of them will ever know."
"So I need to forget three things to learn one."
"Did I say that?"
"Well, yes."
"Most certainly I did not! Why would I want you to forget anything? You've already forgotten quite enough."
"To make room for more things?" I suggested.
"Oh, now, I see the confusion. You think unlearning is forgetting."
"It's not?" I stared at her, feeling more confused.
"No, it’s quite different, actually. You can unlearn anything you know well. Later on, you can relearn it quickly. Didn't you tell me to know Chinese?"
"I learned it to a certain level. I haven’t kept in practice so I've forgotten—"
"No, you've unlearned it, not forgotten it! You can go back to it and it’s still there. All you have to do is reacquaint yourself with the thoughts. For it to be forgotten, it would be as if you never learned it at all."
"That actually makes some sense."
"Why wouldn't it? It's the truth. The truth always makes sense – which is not to say everyone believes the truth."
"People prefer being deceived."
"No, people are easily deceived. There is no preference involved. You've forgotten so much, Carlos. I wish you'd unlearned it. It's very unfortunate how much has been lost."
"I learn quickly."
"But how quickly do you remember? That's what you should be asking." She reached into a dark corner with both hands, producing a physically large, thick dark brown leather-bound book with gold leaf writing across the spine and front. "You see, there it is! Exactly where I would have never looked." She handed the book to me.
"This is it, the book that will teach me everything about anything?"
"The book cannot teach you anything you don't want to learn from it. But yes, everything about anything is contained in that book."
Starting to open it, she slapped the back of my hand. "You do not open a book like that in a dark corridor. It's just not done!"
"Why? I was just going to peruse it a bit."
"It will blind you, of course."
There was no point in arguing with her. Knowing that from experience I tucked the volume under my arm and followed along as we backtracked, navigating to the back porch of her windowless house where she told me I could open the book. I sat on the swing with the book across my lap as I opened it. Lucy came to sit beside me, taking a break as Strawb continued playtime with the children.
A new chapter from a novel in progress, soon to be released.
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