A Fable
By: Smiley
Thread: Iron Writer!
Posted: January 23, 2005
Once upon a time in Tasnica there was a truck driver who hated his job. Every day he would clock in at work at Kuat (for Kuat was the only job in town), and clocking in was the high point of his day. He knew he was moving around all sorts of fantastic machinery and wonderful gadgets, but he never got to see any of them because they were trapped in gargantuan, ugly, and above all heavy boxes. After being thoroughly yelled at by his supervisor (it was always something differentunkempt behavior, lateness to work, taking too long on his route, you name it) he would load his truck to its capacity and set off, always using the same route. He knew it would always be the same route because it had been since he had started at Kuat (for Kuat was the only job in town) 20 years ago, and because there was only one way to go at maximum speed and efficiency. Kuat had a tracker in his truck in case he tried to deviate from that road for any reason, and any reason was reason enough to get rid of him (for Kuat was the only job in town). The same road back and forth, 12 hours a day for 20 years, never changing, always rolling, a constant in motion. You would hate it too, dear reader.
What could the truck driver do? He complained. Not to his supervisor, of course- the dressing-down he got every day was bad enough, and Rainiere forbid that the boss take enough offense to fire him (for Kuat WAS the only job in town). Nor to his co-workers; in general a dour lot, most of them resented their jobs as much as he did and upon clocking out went home to their wives and children to make their lives miserable (since misery not only loves company, but the two have since married and have a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and 2.3 miserable children). He had neither wife nor children. He was not the type to love a wife or nurture children or do much of anything other than eat, sleep, and drink even when not working.
No, he complained to the air, or to the gods if you believe in such a thing. He complained that the sun was too bright, that the rain fell too hard and kept him from seeing. He complained that the asphalt was too grey, that the paint job on the roads was poorly done, that the music he heard on his radio was too poppy or somber or unintelligible. (He called music his one pleasure in life, assuming that someday a piece of music would be made that he enjoyed.) Mostly he complained that his life was never changing, always rolling, a constant in motion. If he could get away but how? And to where? He was tied to Kuat for the rest of his life (for Kuat was the ONLY job in town).
One day, the truck driver was entering that fugue that happens to everybody after a long day of driving and complaining about how much the price of drink had gone up of late (almost 4 pennies! The bastards!) The fugue must have been deep indeed, for the most amazing thing happened. It was something different. One moment he was alone with his thoughts and complaints, the next there was a round blue creature in the cab beside him.
The truck driver blinked. Whore you? he asked.
Im Spekkio, his passenger replied.
No you arent. Spekkio is big and bulbous and purple. And anyway I dont believe in the Gods.
Big-bulbous-purple-me wouldnt fit in the truck, Spekkio said. And yes you do. If you didnt, who are you complaining to?
The truck driver paled. You you HEARD all that?
Sure I did. Its hard to hear anything else, really. Youre really pretty annoying, you know that? Every day the same thing, day-in and day-out, nothing but complaining. Does health count for nothing? Does a roof over your head count for nothing?
The truck driver grunted and kept driving If you call a closet in a tenement with a drippy faucet and drafty windows a roof over my
Enough! No more complaining! Spekkio cried. Weve heard it! Lots and lots of times! Thats why Im here. You say you want to see the Web? So see it! He gesticulated wildly, and a pair of boots appeared on the dashboard. Each had a ruby set into the side, surrounded by a number of other precious and semi-precious stones. These are my Boots of Far Walking, Spekkio explained. Because Im such a generous guy, Im going to let you borrow them for a bit. All you have to do is think of a place you want to be, and theyll take you there, no strings attached. See the Web already!
B-but The truck driver kept driving, though he was unnerved. I cant do that! Leave Kuat? Theyre the
Only Job In Town, I know, the Narrators been keeping me up to date, Spekkio interrupted. Forget that. With these boots, you arent IN town anymore. These boots will take you ANYWHERE! On Mana or elsewhere! Forget Kuat! Me knows that youve complained enough about how they dont notice you exist. Will they notice youre gone?
The truck driver immediately pulled over to the side of the road and slammed on his brakes. Youre absolutely right! he exclaimed. They WONT notice! Im going to see the Web! He reached for the boots and began to leave the cab.
Um, there is one last thing, Spekkio said sheepishly. Before you go to see the Web, can you give me a ride back to Egmont? Um, no boots, cant go anywhere, you know how it is.
And so, one trip to Egmont later, the truck driver was ready to see the Web. His truck parked somewhere non-descriptwhen would he need to see it again, with the Boots of Far Walking?he closed his eyes and attempted to figure out where it was he wanted to go. It was not until this point that he realized that he actually had no idea what was IN the Web. So he did what any reasonable person would do in his situationhe went shopping.
Not normally one to frequent bookshops, today was the day for that to change for the truck driver. After a few complaints about the surfeit of books to choose from, the surfeit of PLACES to choose from, and the overpriced nature of most of the books in the store, he finally decided that he wanted to visit Gatethat was, after all, where his new patron was from, at least as far as he could see from the guidebooks, and he figured he should see his homeland first of all. So, boots securely fastened to his feet, he closed his eyes and thought happy thoughts about Gate.
The ensuing experience would have seemed like a combination of Acid Trip and Roller Coaster ride, if the truck driver had had enough imagination to appreciate either of those things. Wild swirls of color surrounded and enveloped him as he was whisked through space and time at speeds far exceeding the speed of lightcolors that in some instances he was seeing for the first time in his life. Truck drivers dont see much beyond grey, yellow, and the occasional red, but here were greens and blues and oranges and chartreuses and ultramarines! (He thought he may have imagined that last one, simply because colors so odd-looking shouldnt be allowed to exist, in his universe.) A penguin flew by, randomly, although the Truck Driver missed the significance of this because he had never seen a penguin before. Finally, the scene resolved, and to the Truck Driver it was possibly even more bizarre than what he had seen moments earlier.
The truck driver had materialized in Gate atop a small mountain, and the view was breathtaking by any standard. The sun, hanging like an oversized fruit just above the horizon, turned the sky a shocking combination of pinks, purples, and yellows. In the valley below, trees stretched as far as the eye could see, a leafy green carpet over what seemed to be the entire earth. Where the trees did not reach, the other mountains in the range bestrode the narrow earth like colossi, scraping the sky and towering over all before him with their grandeur. In the other direction, a field of wheat rippled with the wind, bowing as if before a great king. For a moment, the truck driver was speechless.
Then, suddenly, he found words. The sky should NOT be that color, he said caustically. It looks like the gods took a color-by-numbers kit and went to town. And those mountains completely ruin my viewwhat if theres a town I want to go to down there, and I cant see it? And how can all those trees be in one place anyway? Not like it matters, the suns so low I can barely see anyway.
Oh, that is IT! The voice of Spekkio echoed from a faraway mountain. The truck driver blinked, and suddenly the little round blue god was before him once more. I give you my boots, I tell you to go see the world, you come to this magnificent vista
Um, it actually is very nice, I didnt mean that stuff I said before
Shut up! Spekkio demanded. Of course you did! I do all this for you and you cant stop complaining for FIVE MINUTES? He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. OK. OK. I tried the non-violent approach to get you to stop it. He strained for a moment. His stringy limbs elongated and filled out, his body puffed out and grew to a stature of approximately 8 feet, and horns sprouted from his forehead. His perfectly round eyes stretched laterally, the pupils becoming more serpent-like. He snarled, revealing his rows of razor-sharp teeth. Now were going to try it the other way, he growled, his voice much deeper and more threatening.
The truck driver was petrified. Suddenly, it occurred to him. Um, you said that you cant travel anywhere without the boots, right?
Spekkios menacing new face softened into a look of deep concern. Did I say that? he asked, cautiously. The truck driver didnt need any more prompting than thathe closed his eyes and thought of someplace else, anyplace else. The rubies on the Boots of Far Walking flashed, and when he opened his eyes the truck driver was somewhere else. It appeared to be a desert of some sort; he was at the bottom of a sand dune, apparently in the middle of nowhere with the sun beating down, but he was alive. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Then, from over the dune, appeared the angry god, now at least 2 feet taller than he was. Yeah, about me saying that he growled. I was lying. Unhindered by the lack of traction the sand provided, Spekkio strode towards the hapless truck driver, whose panic had returned with a vengeance. Running away to buy himself some time, he desperately attempted to remember somewhere else, anywhere else, where he might go to escape the gods wrath. The fringe, perhaps? Was that was the outer worlds on the Web were called? Maybe Spekkios influence was weaker out there. Still running, he closed his eyes and tried to think what that planet was called that he read about briefly. Anyth? Aryth? That was it!
Several very interesting moments passed. At the end of them, the truck driver picked himself up from the forest floor and looked back at the series of tree roots which his running self had tripped over in transit. Note to self, he said. In future, stand still while in transit with the boots.
Good idea, if you had a future to speak of. It was that voice even louder than before! A great rustle in the trees behind him, and Spekkio burst through the undergrowth, now at least 16 feet tall and looking angrier than ever. Do you think I cant track the magical trails of my own creations, boy? he thundered, even while inexorably stomping towards his target. The truck driver went as white as a sheet before turning tail and running once more. OK, OK, Spekkio was walking, that bought him a little time, even if his strides were those of a giant. Oh god. Oh god. The truck driver once again tried desperately to think of someplace to go where Spekkio wouldnt be able to find him. Stomp. Stomp. His thoughts were marred by the sound and impact of the massive gods footsteps. Think, you fool! Stomp. Stomp. The truck driver was by now on the verge of tears, when suddenly it came to him. Egmont! Of COURSE! Spekkio couldnt possibly manifest as huge as he was in the middle of the city, right? Right? Not pausing to consider the validity of this logic, the truck driver stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes, took some deep breaths, and
Another flash. The truck driver was back in Egmont. Even more amazingly, he had materialized right by his truck! What luck! If he could drive his semi away, that would CERTAINLY be faster than running! But first, he made sure to stop and throw the boots as far away from him as humanly possible. You track the boots? Track that, you bastard, he swore, as he climbed into his truck. Fumbling in his pockets produced the key. He turned the ignition
STOMP.
A massive explosion as a giant purple foot trod on the cab of the truck, smashing it and instantly killing the truck driver. Spekkio, now at some 30 feet tall, looked down at his foot and laughed. It would have been a good plan, going into the middle of Egmont, if Spekkio had not had the power to selectively appear to certain people even when a King Kong-sized monstrosity. Removing his foot from the ruined semi, Spekkio relaxed and shrunk back to his more manageable 3-foot round form. Sighing in relief, he calmly walked over to where the late truck driver had thrown the Boots of Far Walking and gingerly lifted them out of the, for politeness sake well say filth, that they had fallen into. What a mess, Spekkio thought. These will have to go back to the temple for cleaning. Ah well. As he faded out, he looked back at the wreckage and reflected sadly that it had come to this. If only the truck driver had learned to appreciate life a little more, none of this would have happened.
The moral: If you cant take the Feet, stay out of the bitchin.
What could the truck driver do? He complained. Not to his supervisor, of course- the dressing-down he got every day was bad enough, and Rainiere forbid that the boss take enough offense to fire him (for Kuat WAS the only job in town). Nor to his co-workers; in general a dour lot, most of them resented their jobs as much as he did and upon clocking out went home to their wives and children to make their lives miserable (since misery not only loves company, but the two have since married and have a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and 2.3 miserable children). He had neither wife nor children. He was not the type to love a wife or nurture children or do much of anything other than eat, sleep, and drink even when not working.
No, he complained to the air, or to the gods if you believe in such a thing. He complained that the sun was too bright, that the rain fell too hard and kept him from seeing. He complained that the asphalt was too grey, that the paint job on the roads was poorly done, that the music he heard on his radio was too poppy or somber or unintelligible. (He called music his one pleasure in life, assuming that someday a piece of music would be made that he enjoyed.) Mostly he complained that his life was never changing, always rolling, a constant in motion. If he could get away but how? And to where? He was tied to Kuat for the rest of his life (for Kuat was the ONLY job in town).
One day, the truck driver was entering that fugue that happens to everybody after a long day of driving and complaining about how much the price of drink had gone up of late (almost 4 pennies! The bastards!) The fugue must have been deep indeed, for the most amazing thing happened. It was something different. One moment he was alone with his thoughts and complaints, the next there was a round blue creature in the cab beside him.
The truck driver blinked. Whore you? he asked.
Im Spekkio, his passenger replied.
No you arent. Spekkio is big and bulbous and purple. And anyway I dont believe in the Gods.
Big-bulbous-purple-me wouldnt fit in the truck, Spekkio said. And yes you do. If you didnt, who are you complaining to?
The truck driver paled. You you HEARD all that?
Sure I did. Its hard to hear anything else, really. Youre really pretty annoying, you know that? Every day the same thing, day-in and day-out, nothing but complaining. Does health count for nothing? Does a roof over your head count for nothing?
The truck driver grunted and kept driving If you call a closet in a tenement with a drippy faucet and drafty windows a roof over my
Enough! No more complaining! Spekkio cried. Weve heard it! Lots and lots of times! Thats why Im here. You say you want to see the Web? So see it! He gesticulated wildly, and a pair of boots appeared on the dashboard. Each had a ruby set into the side, surrounded by a number of other precious and semi-precious stones. These are my Boots of Far Walking, Spekkio explained. Because Im such a generous guy, Im going to let you borrow them for a bit. All you have to do is think of a place you want to be, and theyll take you there, no strings attached. See the Web already!
B-but The truck driver kept driving, though he was unnerved. I cant do that! Leave Kuat? Theyre the
Only Job In Town, I know, the Narrators been keeping me up to date, Spekkio interrupted. Forget that. With these boots, you arent IN town anymore. These boots will take you ANYWHERE! On Mana or elsewhere! Forget Kuat! Me knows that youve complained enough about how they dont notice you exist. Will they notice youre gone?
The truck driver immediately pulled over to the side of the road and slammed on his brakes. Youre absolutely right! he exclaimed. They WONT notice! Im going to see the Web! He reached for the boots and began to leave the cab.
Um, there is one last thing, Spekkio said sheepishly. Before you go to see the Web, can you give me a ride back to Egmont? Um, no boots, cant go anywhere, you know how it is.
And so, one trip to Egmont later, the truck driver was ready to see the Web. His truck parked somewhere non-descriptwhen would he need to see it again, with the Boots of Far Walking?he closed his eyes and attempted to figure out where it was he wanted to go. It was not until this point that he realized that he actually had no idea what was IN the Web. So he did what any reasonable person would do in his situationhe went shopping.
Not normally one to frequent bookshops, today was the day for that to change for the truck driver. After a few complaints about the surfeit of books to choose from, the surfeit of PLACES to choose from, and the overpriced nature of most of the books in the store, he finally decided that he wanted to visit Gatethat was, after all, where his new patron was from, at least as far as he could see from the guidebooks, and he figured he should see his homeland first of all. So, boots securely fastened to his feet, he closed his eyes and thought happy thoughts about Gate.
The ensuing experience would have seemed like a combination of Acid Trip and Roller Coaster ride, if the truck driver had had enough imagination to appreciate either of those things. Wild swirls of color surrounded and enveloped him as he was whisked through space and time at speeds far exceeding the speed of lightcolors that in some instances he was seeing for the first time in his life. Truck drivers dont see much beyond grey, yellow, and the occasional red, but here were greens and blues and oranges and chartreuses and ultramarines! (He thought he may have imagined that last one, simply because colors so odd-looking shouldnt be allowed to exist, in his universe.) A penguin flew by, randomly, although the Truck Driver missed the significance of this because he had never seen a penguin before. Finally, the scene resolved, and to the Truck Driver it was possibly even more bizarre than what he had seen moments earlier.
The truck driver had materialized in Gate atop a small mountain, and the view was breathtaking by any standard. The sun, hanging like an oversized fruit just above the horizon, turned the sky a shocking combination of pinks, purples, and yellows. In the valley below, trees stretched as far as the eye could see, a leafy green carpet over what seemed to be the entire earth. Where the trees did not reach, the other mountains in the range bestrode the narrow earth like colossi, scraping the sky and towering over all before him with their grandeur. In the other direction, a field of wheat rippled with the wind, bowing as if before a great king. For a moment, the truck driver was speechless.
Then, suddenly, he found words. The sky should NOT be that color, he said caustically. It looks like the gods took a color-by-numbers kit and went to town. And those mountains completely ruin my viewwhat if theres a town I want to go to down there, and I cant see it? And how can all those trees be in one place anyway? Not like it matters, the suns so low I can barely see anyway.
Oh, that is IT! The voice of Spekkio echoed from a faraway mountain. The truck driver blinked, and suddenly the little round blue god was before him once more. I give you my boots, I tell you to go see the world, you come to this magnificent vista
Um, it actually is very nice, I didnt mean that stuff I said before
Shut up! Spekkio demanded. Of course you did! I do all this for you and you cant stop complaining for FIVE MINUTES? He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. OK. OK. I tried the non-violent approach to get you to stop it. He strained for a moment. His stringy limbs elongated and filled out, his body puffed out and grew to a stature of approximately 8 feet, and horns sprouted from his forehead. His perfectly round eyes stretched laterally, the pupils becoming more serpent-like. He snarled, revealing his rows of razor-sharp teeth. Now were going to try it the other way, he growled, his voice much deeper and more threatening.
The truck driver was petrified. Suddenly, it occurred to him. Um, you said that you cant travel anywhere without the boots, right?
Spekkios menacing new face softened into a look of deep concern. Did I say that? he asked, cautiously. The truck driver didnt need any more prompting than thathe closed his eyes and thought of someplace else, anyplace else. The rubies on the Boots of Far Walking flashed, and when he opened his eyes the truck driver was somewhere else. It appeared to be a desert of some sort; he was at the bottom of a sand dune, apparently in the middle of nowhere with the sun beating down, but he was alive. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Then, from over the dune, appeared the angry god, now at least 2 feet taller than he was. Yeah, about me saying that he growled. I was lying. Unhindered by the lack of traction the sand provided, Spekkio strode towards the hapless truck driver, whose panic had returned with a vengeance. Running away to buy himself some time, he desperately attempted to remember somewhere else, anywhere else, where he might go to escape the gods wrath. The fringe, perhaps? Was that was the outer worlds on the Web were called? Maybe Spekkios influence was weaker out there. Still running, he closed his eyes and tried to think what that planet was called that he read about briefly. Anyth? Aryth? That was it!
Several very interesting moments passed. At the end of them, the truck driver picked himself up from the forest floor and looked back at the series of tree roots which his running self had tripped over in transit. Note to self, he said. In future, stand still while in transit with the boots.
Good idea, if you had a future to speak of. It was that voice even louder than before! A great rustle in the trees behind him, and Spekkio burst through the undergrowth, now at least 16 feet tall and looking angrier than ever. Do you think I cant track the magical trails of my own creations, boy? he thundered, even while inexorably stomping towards his target. The truck driver went as white as a sheet before turning tail and running once more. OK, OK, Spekkio was walking, that bought him a little time, even if his strides were those of a giant. Oh god. Oh god. The truck driver once again tried desperately to think of someplace to go where Spekkio wouldnt be able to find him. Stomp. Stomp. His thoughts were marred by the sound and impact of the massive gods footsteps. Think, you fool! Stomp. Stomp. The truck driver was by now on the verge of tears, when suddenly it came to him. Egmont! Of COURSE! Spekkio couldnt possibly manifest as huge as he was in the middle of the city, right? Right? Not pausing to consider the validity of this logic, the truck driver stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes, took some deep breaths, and
Another flash. The truck driver was back in Egmont. Even more amazingly, he had materialized right by his truck! What luck! If he could drive his semi away, that would CERTAINLY be faster than running! But first, he made sure to stop and throw the boots as far away from him as humanly possible. You track the boots? Track that, you bastard, he swore, as he climbed into his truck. Fumbling in his pockets produced the key. He turned the ignition
STOMP.
A massive explosion as a giant purple foot trod on the cab of the truck, smashing it and instantly killing the truck driver. Spekkio, now at some 30 feet tall, looked down at his foot and laughed. It would have been a good plan, going into the middle of Egmont, if Spekkio had not had the power to selectively appear to certain people even when a King Kong-sized monstrosity. Removing his foot from the ruined semi, Spekkio relaxed and shrunk back to his more manageable 3-foot round form. Sighing in relief, he calmly walked over to where the late truck driver had thrown the Boots of Far Walking and gingerly lifted them out of the, for politeness sake well say filth, that they had fallen into. What a mess, Spekkio thought. These will have to go back to the temple for cleaning. Ah well. As he faded out, he looked back at the wreckage and reflected sadly that it had come to this. If only the truck driver had learned to appreciate life a little more, none of this would have happened.
The moral: If you cant take the Feet, stay out of the bitchin.