A Conundrum of Sorts

 

            Waking from a dream he could not remember, Otis wondered why everything was so bright. He felt as if he'd been run over by a truck, to use a common metaphor, feeling achy but stiff all at the same time, finding himself strangely awkward and clumsy, still struggling to remember what had taken place just prior to his bright awakening. He opened two eyes to a blurry reality in a room painted in an uncomfortable pale pink with one window very high up and no doors.

              Stark naked and slightly cold, he shifted himself around, working to gain control of his limbs, managing to work himself up onto one elbow, as his head bobbled around, still struggling to focus on something but the only thing of distinction was the singular window. Everything else was smooth and featureless, even the table he laid upon sported the same color and texturelessness. Eventually getting a second elbow beneath him, he watched himself wiggle his toes, overjoyed at the small step toward self-control and clarity of vision.

              Feeling winded but uncertain why, making the logical presumption that he had previously been doing some sort of physical exertion but sadly oblivious to any former memories. He vigorously rubbed his face and swung his feet over the edge of the table, struggling to balance himself between his butt and his two arms, both feeling wobbly. An abrupt growl escaped from his stomach to be immediately followed by the appearance of a small opening directly across from him slide open.

              Curious but at the same time fearful of trying to walk across this open space with no means of support, he realized that the small opening presented two containers emitting a pleasant and smooth odor, which prompted him to overcome his fears and slowly walk across the space, eventually balancing himself with one hand on the lip of the opening and the other to extract the two containers. One contained a warm, while liquid and the other a brown, pasty substance that smelled wonderful. He placed them on the floor near his feet, to join them in a sitting position, satiating his hunger without hesitation. The small window quickly closed, and Otis sat alone in the silence relishing the warm and tasty food, all the time wondering what would be the next thing to observe and hopefully do, for he feared that boredom would quickly set in.

              Though the ground was soft beneath him, instead of again rising to his feet, he crawled, hands and knees back to the table to pull himself into a standing position, using the table as a source of balance and protection, walking around it to improve his mobility. As the time passed, he realized that his vision became more and more clear, giving him the ability to see the outline of the small window that provided him food and another slightly larger outline, which he hoped would provide something of value.

              Feeling more and more certain of his abilities, he ultimately let go of the table and began walking the room, exploring every inch, hoping to learn and understand the nature of his existence and hoping to recall something from his time before his arrival here, if there was such a thing. With a sudden swoosh, he turned to see the larger opening now open, offering up some articles of clothing, which he promptly put on, feeling much better about being somewhat covered.

              The self-imposed exercise brought with it, unsurprisingly, a level of fatigue, prompting him to return to the table and fall asleep, to awaken after an unknown amount of time to the swoosh of the first opening open a second time with another offering of food. He sat up, swung his feet over the edge and retrieved his next meal, this time without the need to sit on the floor, slowly strolling the room as he ate. He returned the two containers and looked up at the window, through which bled a warm white light, prompting his curiosity. With a slight jump, he caught the lip of the window and pulled himself up, seeing what he thought to be another room, this one, hopefully with other people, for he had begun to struggle with the solitude.

              Letting go and dropping to the floor, he felt across the wall that contained the window in hopes of finding another opening, hopefully larger than the other two that provided him food and clothing. With a leap of excitement, he sensed a long thin line from floor to just beyond face height that continued to the left and then paralleled the first just a bit over and returned to the floor. "This is definitely an opening," he thought, "but why so large?"

              He paced the space directly in front of his latest discovery and waited for it to open but finally growing bored with the lack of activity, he began to push on the space between the lines, but feared he may have been too weak to make a change to its current immobile state. He made the decision to push with both hands, directly in the center and was thrilled to hear the familiar swoosh as the opening slid slightly back and out of view to the right.

              This new space into which he stepped contained a few other individuals somewhat like himself but busy with millions of pieces that had been scattered across the floor. This room was much, much larger, brightly lit, and colorful, with a scent of something sweet and pleasant filling the air, the surrounding walls filled with pictures of people. The look of confusion must have been clearly evident upon his face as an older woman with a gentle smile approached him and gave him a hug. "Hello, Otis," she said, "we are all so glad that you've joined us. Take a seat and see what you can do with the puzzle before us."

              Uncertain of her words, he smiled back and looked around the room to see some of the other occupants seated, shuffling through the many tiny pieces all across the floor but others merely sat with their faces to the fall, doing nothing, having it seemed to either removed their clothing or never put them on in the first place. He walked from person to person, seeking direction and advice, to finally learn that the chore before them all was to contribute in any way they could to finish the puzzle, with none of them absolutely certain what the image on the puzzle would reveal.

              Now with a sliver of understanding, he sat nearest the most helpful other and began shifting through the pieces making the occasional connection, to realize that the image before him was a thing of beauty, stirring within him a new level of excitement as he made more and more connections. He would become occasionally distracted by the others who sat naked, doing nothing, and wondered why they did not contribute to the massive responsibility before them all. As time continued on, he found great joy in the progress he had made, seeing others making progress as well, he offered words of encouragement, to come to the understanding that this had been going on for a very long time, the puzzle slowly coming together.

              Occasionally, others would enter the room with the same befuddled look as himself, some to interact, to learn, and to contribute, but others were merely naked and sat facing the wall like the others, doing nothing, and offering nothing. He found that the more he interacted with fellow contributors, the more progress he made, learning from the wisdom and experience of others.

              Taking the occasional break, he would stroll around the room, marveling at the progress others had made, putting in an effort in different locations and finding great success in whatever he did. After a particularly long stretch of work, he leaned back on his hands and watched one of his older, fellow contributors stand and leave the space, the door swooshing closed behind him as he exited. Feeling somewhat confused, he approached the older woman to inquire of what had just taken place. "You too will do the same thing at some point," she said, "you'll know when it is your time. No one stays here forever. You are to contribute to the best of your ability and then you move on. From what I have been told, the next room is even more glorious and comforting. I look forward to making the transition myself."

              Otis returned to his first space of work and continued adding more value, making the decision to create connections on each side of the room, and to interact with as many as he could. It was when he began to feel sleepy that he rose from his knelt position and approached the door through which the other man had passed. As he stepped into the next room, he was greeted by a very large, kind eyed man who handed him a single piece of a puzzle, inviting him in, congratulating him on the great work that he had completed. "This is your last work," he said, "enter into the next space, enjoy the beauty and grace and find the one space that will accept this final piece."

              Otis walked into the room to see a small puzzle on the floor, to see many, many others standing about, laughing, talking, and interacting, with a feeling of rest and comfort. He knelt on the floor, slid the final piece into place and joined a small group of other men, who warmly welcomed him, offering him a steaming cup of pale brown liquid, warm to the touch.