The Last Philosopher

Serving words

Later that evening, Herschel and Charlene were sitting on the damp stairs to the abandoned store-front. Bern's had closed earlier than usual. Since the regular post-work meet and drink had been rain-checked due to the, well, rain.

The wonky looking old store-front was in one of those mystery locations. The kind that seemed great, but where nothing managed to stay open for long. Still, people always said it had good bones, and it was a shame no one managed to make something of it. All the failed ventures seemed to have beaten the spirit out of the sad structure. But for that same reason, it was Charlie's favourite.

"Why did ya have ta argue with Muke?" Charlene asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"He was using the logic of mystery and miracle as if it was proof, as their teacher I had to give the children another viewpoint."

"I suppose, as Da would say, ya were doin' yar duty. Ba do ya really think we all came from Trolls?" She was still sceptical that living rocks could even exist.

"I haven't done the necessary thinking on the subject, but it is the prevailing theory, so I would have to say... maybe?"

"Then hav'ya ever seen a Troll?" She doubted she could trip him up that easy, but it was worth a try.

"A few, they enjoy their stonicism, but can be quite hospitable."

"Wha' in Bayit's name is stonicism?"

"It's a spiritual form of solitude, Trolls like being left alone."

Charlene tried to give him a please elaborate look, but it wasn't working, "and they're just like livin' rocks, or whatever, walkin' around and everything?"

"You shouldn't say living rock, they don't like it."

"Why not?"

"Because if you have to specify living, it's like you think they should be dead."

"O-kay, ba if Trolls is real," she hadn't conceded the point, "then why ain't there any here?"

"Who knows, there might be one or two?" Herschel smiled like he was kidding.

Rascal, who she'd thought was asleep, sat up and came to sit beside her. The heaviness of the little body felt nice. She was getting used to having the dog as her constant companion.

For a moment she was distracted talking to dog like she was a baby. But Herschel's frown had taken on that blank, faraway look it got when there was something interesting to think about. And Charlene settled in for a bit of a lecture.

"The reason there are so few Trolls outside Zenon could be that things, especially living things, gravitate towards those like themselves."

Charlene noticed Rascal was looking at him almost admiringly, like she was really listening, it looked kind of funny.

"Societies crave the illusion of predictability." Herschel went on, "because while an individual might be cool, calm, and collected. Groups of people are often insecure. And it's easier to accept neighbours, people like me, with shared experiences into one's group. And at first glance, easier seems better."

There was a short intermission in his speech. As Charlene, in her beige linen dress, and a cold damp bum, lifted his arm over her shoulder and leaned up against him. Stroking Rascal's scruffy neck the with other hand.

"So, why is easier nat better," she asked, more than happy to sit and listen while he thought out loud.

"Sometimes it is, but a greater complexity, and perhaps superior social structure, should be achievable with a greater diversity of pieces? As long as we can learn to focus on what unites us and accept each others differences."

Holding hands, they listened to the silence of a town getting ready for bed. Until someone got drummed out of Maguire's, head first and cursing like a banshee. After the drunk stumbled off to the bunkhouse, things went back to cosy murmurs.

"So, ya're thinking about staying in Stagna aren't ya?"

"Well, I am in debt to the community."

"Ba there's more ta it than that, I can tell."

He gave her a look like she'd betrayed some secret, and Rascal snorted as if she was being told playtime was over.

"I can't lie, Ms Skvosip is the reason I don't have to run any more."

"Yea, I know, she fixed tha trial!"

"That's only one part of the reason, but I can't tell you why exactly. I promised I wouldn't."

"It don't matter nun, I'm glad ya're staying," she said, and meant it.

"Les go down to the river a spell before ya 'ave to be back at the office."

While he'd been going on, she had another idea about how he could serve the community. Up until now, she'd never considered that people weren't complaining about Herschel talking to them, because there was nothing to complain about. Maybe he could serve with words. As they strolled away, she squinted back at the rundown store-front over her shoulder. It just might work.

Updated: 11.04.2024