God or Servant
It was an early Saturday afternoon when the boy first encountered the speaking rock. It sat, a soft gray oval, pocked like the healed face of an acne infested teen, isolated in its dry dust crater between the bones of junipers and sharp basalt boulders. The boy had been spending the day alone (his parents performing their all-important adult duties and leaving him to the bare desert that was his backyard) playing himself the captain of a large fishing vessel built from firewood and imagination.
The boy gazed into an oncoming thousand-foot crest of foaming fantasy, doubting he could survive this rogue wave. “Shoot! Abandon ship!” the boy shouted excitedly, to no one in particular. The wave hit, knocking him to the floor of his vessel. He lifted his battered body and boldly cast it overboard. He landed flatly in a cloud of dirt. It was then he raised his eyes and saw the smooth speaking stone.
“Boy.” spoke the stone in its steady and confident manner. “What is it you are doing here? You seem lost, either in your mind or in this place.” The rock blinked its nonexistent eyes and waited for a reply.
The boy himself had only encountered one or two such speaking stones, so it was with curiosity and delight he engaged.
“I’m not lost. Why would you think I’m lost?”
“All boys are lost. It is well understood, every boy needs a stone to guide him through life, otherwise he will be stranded without any knowledge of what to do or where to go. A free-thinking child is a very foolish creature. Worry not though. Stones with my strength and stability can advise best.” The boy lifted his gaze to the horizon in slight disinterest, shifting his shoulders left then right. “Focus boy! This is so very simple. Put me in your pocket. I prefer the right. And I can take control. I’ll lead you where you really want to go and speak the words you want to say. I can even manage your mind from time to time, making you into who you have always wanted to be. You will be perfect. And who doesn’t want to be perfect?”
The boy imagined placing the stone in his pocket (already occupied by some spare coins, a few inches of twine, and a candy wrapper). It would take control, its long invisible tentacles manipulating him to and through this world. There would be no need for imagining or thinking, only complete surrender to the perfectly executed life.
“Well?” queried the stone. “Have you gone and made up your mind? We have much to be and do together.”
The stone became very angry as he watched the boy walk away, but he was just a stone and had very little power on his own.