Only once a year, the Masters of Tectophonics unveiled their Grand Mechanism for visitors. Not more than three applicants were selected to be led through the giant hall of gears, wheels, tubes, and spheres, chains, conveyors, and shafts. This year, the honor fell upon two fellow scholars and myself. Master Bonafide showed us around for two full days, leading us over stairs and ladders, through trap doors and security locks to peer into every corner from every angle we wanted, patiently answering any question that might occur.
My fellows had already collapsed and been escorted to the exit; my knees began to shiver as well, and I felt that it was time for me to leave, too.
“Is there anything else you wish to know?” asked Master Bonafide.
“Indeed there is,” I said. “Please excuse me if the question sounds offensive. But what is this all for? It’s an overwhelming experience to look at this fascinating machine – I could spend at least a year or two and still would not be able to say how it works.”
“Well, to be honest, we haven’t figured that out ourselves. And it does not matter. It is not important to describe the functionality of pulleys, levers, and the like. What really matters is to interpret them, to find meaning in them and to use the Mechanism right.”
“So what do you use it for?”
Master Bonafide smiled.
“We only use it once a year for one single purpose: To select the three candidates for the annual guided tour.”
@VisualInspiration
At some point a civilization figured out, first, that they were alone with no one to talk to, and second, that other civilizations were more likely to appear if there was a spacetime.
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