Posted by Anthony on May 5, 2008
Chronos and Old Facts
A short story by Anthony Horvath
COPYRIGHT, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The sign on the door read “Bureau for Decommissioned Facts.” I pushed the door open gingerly, almost sheepishly. My quest to find this heretofore unknown department of the Universal University was not merely a recent one, but one that was given to me and not one that I had initiated. The department chair had taken me aside in the cafeteria, and in a tone that wavered between fatherly affection and patronizing condescension, insisted that I take a trip to Building 51023414, use the elevator to go down to the lowest sub-floor, and learn what could be learned in the BDF.
Naturally, I found the suggestion extremely curious, if only because I had never heard of the BDF and had never noticed a building marked 51023414 before. From some of the remarks made by the department chair I had some inclination to think that this quest was bestowed upon me in relation to a paper that I had recently submitted for publication. It was a paper that I was particularly proud of: bold, ambitious, counter-intuitive, and well-substantiated. Yet here I was, descending into the bowels of an ungodly numbered building as though I were back in high school and being sent to the principal’s office.
I beheld a nondescript sterile-white room. A black desk was in the middle of it, standing in stark contrast to the rest of the décor. A woman I instantly dubbed in my mind the ‘Prune Woman’ stared at me behind thick black-rimmed glasses. An older lady, to put it nicely. She glared at me. “How can I help you, sir?”
“My department chair sent me here,” I offered, not really knowing what else I could say. One of her eyebrows raised in an inquisitive manner.
“Which department?” she inquired.
“History,” I replied.
“Of course,” she said. “It usually is. Right this way.” Read the rest of the entry… »
Posted by Anthony on January 9, 2008
This short story was inspired by this article at Time, here. I blogged on that article here: “Mother Teresa had moments of doubt?“
“It is not enough to save you.”
Teresa heard the words with horror. She had heard the entire conversation and she trembled throughout it. Each utterance was burned into her mind so that she could recount it accurately in her mind. She remembered the man’s demeanor before he entered the room. Cool, calm, confident. In the quiet conversation between those that remained in the waiting area it was shared by all that this man of all would go on through the great wooden doors. The great wooden doors. These doors were visible to all. There was a pleasant incline shaded by tall oak trees leading to the doors. A narrow path, bounded on both sides by soft grasses, led to the door. A sparkling pool of water was about two thirds of the way to the door. But barring the path at its entrance was a man like lightning and in the man’s hand was a sword of lightning. He was too marvelous and fearsome to look at, so Teresa couldn’t help but glance frequently at him.
The chamber doors opened and the man that had received the bellowing decree emerged. He was no longer the self-assured man they had all spoken with earlier. He was visibly shaken. On his left and his right were two more awesome to behold men, but these did not have swords. They led him towards another chamber. Teresa overheard someone ask them, “Where is he going?”
One of the men replied, “He is going to reflect, re-think, recall. Then he shall be examined again.”
An air of relief spread through the crowd. It was not all lost for the man. Yet, if such a man had not been permitted immediate access through the doors, what was to be their lot? Teresa knew their fear.
She recalled the man’s interview in her mind. The chamber doors had been closed, and though it had been silent for a time, the interview escalated so that the whole of the grassy waiting hall could hear both sides.
“I have devoted my life to God!” the man was exclaiming in exasperation.
“But not your whole life,” came the answer.
“I have experienced God many times,” the man countered.
“It is not enough to save you.”
“I did not marry. I did not divide my interests!” the man rejoined.
“You did not marry, but you did not give up women. See here. Here is the record of every lustful thought that you have had. You’ll note that here is where you became a priest, and yet a record of such thoughts continues until your death.”
“But those… what man can control his thoughts with such skill? You’re being unreasonable. I did not act on those thoughts, did I?” the man asserted with all confidence. The man had taken the tone of a defense attorney, expecting the rhetoric to take effect.
“Of course you acted on those thoughts. Here are seventy thousand, six hundred and fifty two times recorded where you turned your head to gaze on a woman,” the other returned.
“Well that is nonsense,” the man cried out. Then he continued, “I turned my head a few times. But I have not looked at pornography. Surely that counts for something.”
“It does. But see here. Here are thirty-three times you have looked upon such material,” the other replied.
The man blurted out in exasperation, “Those were in movies! Look. See here in this one, how was I to know they were going to put that scene in?”
“It is not enough to save you,” the other responded with all finality.
And then there was silence. The great waiting hall shook with the trembling of those waiting in it. Teresa wiped her eyes. At last, the interview continued.
“Have I nothing? Is it all nothing? What was the point?” the man inquired. Though it was still loudly shouted, there was clearly a wavering in the man’s voice.
“No one is saying it is nothing. It is not enough. The things are different.”
“I was a professor of theology. I taught thousands the pure doctrine of the church,” the man cried out, gaining new strength.
“Your doctrine was not pure. See, here is the record of your errors, some deliberate and defiant, others sincere but mistaken, and some wrong though you did not know it.”
In this silence Teresa presumed the man was looking at the record. Sure enough, the man spoke up to protest.
“Why, some of these are so nuanced. You say this one is wrong, here? I think I know my Scriptures well enough to know that a better interpretation is not possible. These are so nitpicky. Where is the harm? It seems to me that it was good enough.”
“Behold the consequences of the doctrinal deviations you taught to others,” the other declared.
The man began making all sorts of noises. Apparently here he was not just reading the record because he started making comments as though he were seeing the consequences with his own eyes.
“No! Please stop! How was I to know? How can I be responsible? I gave them the doctrine, perhaps it was slightly off, but they put it into action! Oh my. No, how could this have led to that? My God, that was fifteen generations later!” And so it went on for what seemed like a long time with the man getting increasingly desperate. At last the man blurted out, “Didn’t I get anything right?”
“One, perhaps. More or less.” Read the rest of the entry… »
