Klash Allegory

Klash.

                The first wave was something of a nearly unrecognizable realization.  It was short, but nonetheless it was there.  It may have been as simple as companionship; not yet being able to define it but realizing that it existed to begin with.

                It was short though, only lasting for the brief moment that Nicolas, Eli, and Anslem looked up from their cross-legged triangles and made eye contact simultaneously with one another.  And then the clash of thought, the brief connection, and back to staring into the dirt.   

                They were filthy.  They itched at their scalps with hands soiled from drawing shapes in the dirt, shapes of nothing – not art, no geometric value, lines of complete irrelevance – and they didn’t know this or not know this, they only drew because it was what their upper appendages had a tendency to do.  And they continued to draw and to itch mindlessly.  This they did even after the first clash.

                Although they sat less than a hundred feet away from it none of the three paid any mind to the increasing moans and rumblings from the tower.  The shifting had begun and grown audible before the first clash which had happened…days ago?  Weeks?  The noises were now deafening, and the sounds from the tower were the only sounds to be heard, but they didn’t listen.  They drew their formless pictures in the dust until the vibrations from the tower erased what they had drawn, and then they would draw again.

                Their legs were quite use to the position they sat in, like monks in meditation, and they stayed that way for most of the day and night.  The only time they felt the need to stand was to gather food or to defecate, adding to the great mass of the tower.  The food was plentiful and not hard to gather, for it was given to them by the tower.  They ate without taste and without noticing color, texture, or volume.  They ate until the burning sour in their stomachs left and they could return to their surrogate activity.

                Neither of the three, after the initial blip of awareness, looked at the other.  Not until the second –

                Clash.

                Eli left the circle walking slowly, with sudden conscientiousness, toward the tower.  He wanted food, this was nothing new.  But the ache in his stomach wasn’t there.  He wanted the food because he wanted it, and this feeling – any feeling other than hunger – was something new. 

                He turned and looked back at Nicolas and Anslem.  He now remembered the first wave.  He remembered that at some point there had been a time like this before.  He remembered their eyes.  The three of them looking into each other’s eyes.  And now they were looking at each other again, this time able to hold on.

                Without knowing why, Eli somehow knew that Nicolas and Anslem knew he was going to the tower for food.  He knew as well that they wanted him to bring them back food.  He felt a strange pressure as if he couldn’t contain these new feelings inside of him, as if they were breeding and growing and they would tear from his insides at any moment in a most pleasant way.

                He turned from them, his heart thudding in his chest, and continued his walk to the tower.  At the base of the tower, picking the fruit that grew so plentifully, he noticed for the first time the feeling of air passing in and out of his nostrils, and in and out of his lungs.  He didn’t know where the knowledge came from or how it had arrived but he knew that if the air stopped moving, for reasons he couldn’t imagine, he would cease to exist.  And, with this new understanding, the next of firsts was the feeling of fear.    

                With his hands full – as much as he could hold – he walked back to the circle, dropping the food in the center of it.  Nicolas and Anslem looked up from their drawings upon hearing the food drop to the ground.  The three looked around at each other, looked at each other’s eyes.  Eli sat back in his usual spot, wondering if the others were having the almost-bursting sensation, sharing the same feelings. 

                The food had changed somehow, or at least their understanding of it.  Not only did it now have taste and texture but Eli realized that now when he ate it the food held a similar value to the air he breathed.  He looked at the others and thought by the look on their faces that they had come to realize the same.  He also knew that the food from the tower gave them understanding, and although he didn’t remember having eaten any other kind of food, he somehow knew that any other food didn’t hold the same breath of thought as the fruit from the tower.  

                They weren’t hungry and yet they still ate more.

One thought after another, like light plucked from the ether, the more Eli ate of the food the more his thoughts cascaded, the more the progression made sense. 

It was not pleasant food to eat.  It grew from the excrement that made up the ever-growing tower and Eli knew without knowing for sure, or remembering at all, that they had been building the tower and eating the food for some time.  The good grew in slightly differing shapes (although it all tasted the same), rising toward the sun with domed caps shading the very roots that held it to the feces.  It was the only food to be had and it was food for the body and food for the mind.  This Eli knew.

                The food gone, Nicolas returned to his drawings and Eli, instead of returning to his own watched Nicolas draw.  At first it was the same random line-making without pattern.  Then Nicolas leaned closer to his drawing, looking at it with his gaze not wondering but focused, intense.  Lines began to curve or meet in points.  Curves and points began to make shapes.  Shapes began to images. For a moment Eli had to look away for fear that his mind could become lost in Nicolas’s drawing.

                He looked instead to Anslem, catching him looking away as well.  Anslem was wiping away water from his cheeks and Eli knew what this meant as well, although he knew it was something inexplicable even in a matter of thought.   Anslem stood then and turned so as to not be seen (this Eli knew) and walked toward the tower to find more food (this Eli also knew). 

                Eli watched Nicolas draw while he waited for Anslem to return with more food.  Instead of using his fingertips to draw in the dust as they had always done, Nicolas used a stick to more easily scratch the dust, making lines deep or shallow to add to the clarity of the picture.  Eli marveled at this, looked around at the many sticks lying around the circle they sat in, and wondered why they had never thought to use them before. 

                Nicolas poured sweat.  Nicolas breathed heavily.  The intensity with which Nicolas drew was starting to concern Eli.  If he continued to draw with such fury, Eli thought, he would have to do something to stop Nicolas because if he didn’t something bad would happen and all would be lost.

                Anslem returned with more food, dropped it into the center of the circle, and sat. 

                Eli picked up one hand full of food after another and ate, watching Anslem and Nicolas do the same.  He couldn’t seem to control himself.  The more food he ate the more he wanted to eat. 

                He looked at Anslem.  Anslem looked different – not as if he was a different person but more vibrant, alive.  Looking around Eli realized that it wasn’t Anslem that looked different; it was his vision growing sharper.  He saw colors that didn’t exist before.  The food before him, which had looked only gray before, now had rich blues, greens, purples, and oranges – these colors and white spots on the domed caps.  He also heard Anslem chewing and Nicolas’s stick scratching in the dust.  His hearing was growing sharper. 

                Nicolas was eating, but never took his eyes off of his work.  While eating with his left hand he drew with the stick in his right hand.  He was still sweating, still breathing heavily, and the pace at which he worked quickened. 

                Eli could tell that Anslem held the same concern as himself for Nicolas’s state.  They both knew that Nicolas needed to stop drawing but would be unable to stop himself.  He was lost, falling deeper into his own mind.

                Anslem stood, stepping over the diminishing pile of food, and walked over to Nicolas, careful not to step on the drawing.  He put his hand on Nicolas’s shoulder and gently shook him.  Nicolas continued to draw.  Anslem put both hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him to his feet, pull him from his state of mind, but could not move Nicolas and Nicolas paid no attention to him. 

                Anslem bent and reached for the stick held in Nicolas’s left hand.  Before he could grab it Nicolas balled his right hand into a fist and struck Anslem on the side of the head without looking away from his drawing.    

                Anslem fell and crawled back to where he normally sat in the circle.  He covered his face with the heels of his hands, hiding himself from the others. 

                Eli relished in the newness that was all around, the budding sensations.  He had just witnessed the first of violence, and the first of embarrassment.  How different the three of them were, yet so connected!  The more he learned the more he wanted to learn, just as it was now with eating the food.

                Nicolas dropped the stick he was using, suddenly finished with his drawing.  He sat looking at what he had drawn astonished at the size of it.  He was puzzled as well because he hadn’t remembered drawing for more than a short while and a drawing of this size would have taken longer.  His right hand ached and he couldn’t imagine why because he had been drawing with his left.  He noticed the others looking at his massive drawing.

                It was a picture of the tower and was unmistakable as such.  Every line, every shadow, every piece of fruit that grew from the waste was exactly where it should be. 

                Suddenly there was a great rumbling and Nicolas’s picture was erased.  The three looked toward the tower.  For the first time they heard it, or at least noticed the eerie sound and vibration.  The tower was defiantly shifting and the three, now aware, were afraid. 

                They were afraid with the exception of Nicolas who was looking for his tower.  He ran his fingers through the dust, sure he had drawn something spectacular.  He picked up the dust, smelled it, tasted it.  What he had drawn so skillfully that he was sure it could never be reproduced had disappeared. And he was sure that the tower – the tower that gave them food – had taken it from him, out of jealousy perhaps.  He decided then that he would not be like the others, that he would find a way to not rely on the tower, whatever that may mean.  He was sure that there had to be something else beyond the reaches of the tower.

                The tower continued to rumble.  Soon the food that sat in the center of the circle was gone.

                Eli wanted to return to the tower to acquire more food but was afraid that at any moment the great mass would collapse, possibly burying them where they sat, but surely burying him if he stood on its peaks.  He looked at Anslem and Anslem was looking back at him, pleading with his eyes, asking for food, too scared to run for the tower himself.  He looked at Nicolas and Nicolas was looking at his own fingers and toes as if they held the answer to any question that could possibly be asked, and Eli knew that it would be foolish to try and break Nicolas from another spell of attention.

                Eli ran for the tower.

                He scooped the food, whatever colors, into his arms knowing that it could be the last time.  With his arms full he ran away from the tower trying to resist the urge to look back at its greatness one last time.  He pictured briefly in his mind the picture that Nicolas had drawn and, although he had no knowledge of time, knew that it was the representation of the tower itself.  And now, like the vibrations in the dust, the tower would be erased.  The only difference was that it had taken substantially longer to build the tower than it had for Nicolas to draw it.  Just how long Eli wasn’t certain.

                Eli returned to the circle with the tower still escalading in noise and vibration, but so far still intact. 

                As they ate Eli and Anslem looked from the tremulous tower to Nicolas’s staring at his digits, to each other, and back to the tower.  Neither knew what to do other than to sit and wait.  None thought to stand and leave the place where they sat.

                The three ate greedily.  With the threat of the towers’ imminent collapse there existed the fear of one consuming more food than the other, hence they ate as quickly as they could chew and swallow.

                Nicolas managed to eat as quickly as Eli and Anslem while never removing his gaze from his fingers and toes.  While he chewed he nodded at his digits in succession, one after another until they were all accounted for.  Then he would fill his mouth with more food and begin again. 

                The tower shook more violently than before, Eli and Anslem feeling the vibrations in the earth beneath them, hearing a great rumble from the towers’ core.  They watched as the peaks collapse, melting the tower into a mound. 

                When the tremors ceased the only food to be had was at the towers base.  Anslem ran for it.  Eli considered trying to stop him from going near the tower, knowing it wouldn’t be safe, but he too wanted more food and so reluctantly let Anslem go.

                Nicolas paid no attention to the commotion that was happening all around him.  He believed only in the sanctity of his fingers and toes.

                To Elis’ relief and excitement Anslem returned unharmed and the tower meanwhile remained how it was – a great domed mass.

                They began to eat the food Anslem had risked his life to acquire.  This and the food they had eaten before began its work on their minds.  Thus was the third and final –

                Clash.

                Over and over Eli repeated the thought: the tower is going to fall.  He noticed the others looking at him as he thought this.  Nicolas had finally looked away from his hands and feet and once again the three had found their connection. 

                The tower is going to fall.

                Nicolas and Anslem nodded.

                And what shall we have then for food?

                It was Anslem.  Eli didn’t know how he knew but it was Anslems’ thought.  And somehow he understood the thought as though it was spawned from his own mind. 

                Nicolas was again looking at his hands and feet.

                The food will be gone, Eli thought, but the food grows from the tower.  The tower is important.

                Anslem nodded.  We must feed ourselves.  If not we return to…darkness.

                Before Eli could reply, Nicolas’s thoughts reached his mind.

                One…two…three…four…five.  He counted his fingers, touching each one as he did before starting on his toes.  One…two…three…four…five.  The same.  Fingers and toes are equal.

                They passed thoughts this way, one to another, and this was the first of true communication.  As they ate more food the thoughts streamed faster, into something approaching chaos.

                Eli:  The tower is too large to save.

                Anslem:  The tower gives us food.  I love the tower.

                Eli:  We must collect as much food as we can.

                Nicolas:  Ten fingers.  Ten toes.  Five on each hand.  Five on each foot.

                Eli:  I love the tower.

                Anslem:  The tower is made from our shit.

                Eli:  We will build a new tower.

                Nicolas:  The light is five fingers.  The dark is five fingers.  After ten it begins again.

                Anslem:  The food grows from the tower.

                Eli:  We are naked and we are covered with soil from the tower but we don’t care.  One day we will.

                Anslem:  The food grows from our shit.

                Nicolas:  The food takes more than ten fingers and ten toes to grow.  Light…dark…light…dark…

                Eli:  To build a tower you must have food.  To have food you must have a tower.

                Nicolas:  Ten fingers.  Begin again.  Ten toes.  Begin again.  Too many fingers and toes to build a tower.

                Their thoughts became silent as the three ate the last of the food.  When it was gone they were almost instantly hungry again and, with the exception of Nicolas, started to panic.

                Eli looked to Anslem.  We must get more food.

                We must.

                They stood, intending to run for the tower, but the ground shook beneath their feet and they fell.  They could only watch in horror as the tower shook, almost vibrating. 

                Eli and Anslem crawled as fast as they could in the opposite direction of the tower.  It was difficult to even crawl with the ground under them rolling in dusty waves.  Nicolas remained where he sat, still counting his fingers and toes.

                You must follow us Nicolas! Eli thought.  You have to hurry.  The tower is sick.

                One…two…three…four…five…

                Eli turned and crawled slowly back to Nicolas.  Grabbing Nicolas by the arm Eli tried to pull him the direction he and Anslem were crawling but Nicolas pushed him away without looking.  Eli slapped him hard across the face breaking his concentration and Nicolas finally looked at the tower.  This time he followed Eli without being pulled by the arm.

                As they crawled they found themselves more stable; the ground shook less the further they were from the tower.  After a distance they were able to stand and walk.  They climbed a hill covered in trees and brush – a hill they had not seen before because previously they had looked only at the tower. 

                At the top of the hill they each sat on large boulders where they could see the tower.   They felt helpless sitting there that way with no food, no understanding of what was going to happen, and knowing that their tower would soon be gone for good.

                For a while the tower held its shape although it swayed from side to side.  Then large pieces fell from the top to the ground; then large crevasses opened from the bottom, working their way to the top; then, in a cloud of dust – shaped much like the tops of the food they ate – the tower crumbled to the ground. 

                All was quiet and the ground was still.

                The three of them were also quiet.  They had lost the ability to pass thought, and so lost the ability to communicate.  They realized then that it had been a gift from the tower and the tower was gone.  But the ability to think was still theirs and they looked at each other, trying to find a way to communicate.

                Eli was suddenly aware that his thoughts were different than before.  Somehow the fall of the tower had changed them.  They had become not just thoughts but words that described his thoughts.  The words formed sentences.  They sentences were what he needed to pass to the others, but he was unsure how.  It didn’t work like it did before.

                Nicolas made sound – a deep grunt, muffled and throaty from slack, unused vocal chords.  He made the sound again and again, experimenting with changing the pitch and volume of his voice.

                Anslem began grunting in the same fashion and Eli knew that they were trying to form these words that replaced the thoughts they had passed before so effortlessly from one to another. 

                Eli made the noises now too but was reluctant to do so.  He missed the tower which had given them the clash of thought, the ability to communicate.  They were on their own now.  He had no choice but to try and speak these words in his mind.

                For hours they sat on the hill, looking at the place where their tower once stood, trying to talk to each other.  At first it was only gibberish but now the words Eli spoke sounded very close to the ones in his mind.  It was very strange to hear himself talking.  He kept working at making the sounds more clear but thought the noises were close enough for the others to understand.  But Anslem and Nicolas made no indication that they knew what he was saying, and for that matter Eli had no clue as to what they were saying.  He could see the same growing frustration on their faces. 

                They continued to babble well into the night.

                They woke in the morning knowing now that it was useless to try and communicate, but they looked at each other for some time waiting to see if the others would make another attempt.  None tried.  Finally, after it was clear they had all given up they gave each other smiles and nods to say, if nothing else, goodbye. 

                Where the tower once stood there was nothing left for them and so they walked three separate ways down the hill, looking for food, and looking for something else that they didn’t quite understand.