Petharic leaned out over the handrail of the
Stora Canal Bridge staring down at the murky water below. He watched as his
blurry image danced a choreography of variegated distortion across the lazy
ripples. It was a quiet, crisply cool autumn afternoon during which he contemplated
a life without purpose. What might it be
like, he thought, to wander this
world lost... without any clear sense of direction?
Mr. Petharic liked things to be concrete and predictable so this reflection came as a particularly troubling meditation. Existential angst did not become him.
It was in the midst of this rather dark reverie that the flash of something metallic near the end of the bridge caught his peripheral notice. The object, channeling what it could of the attenuated New Babbage sunlight, interrupted his thoughts not only as a curious distraction, but a welcome one as well. It looks a bit like a key of some sort lying by the end of the bridge.
Upon closer examination, having picked up the small steel item from the cobblestone nearest the bridge, he determined it was indeed a key of sorts… a wind-up key designed to work ratchet-like to tighten the spring of various clockwork devices. From what device had it come and what mechanical effect would its turning cause?
Petharic looked around wondering what to do. He contemplated taking the small metal key with the intention of keeping an eye open for whoever may have dropped it. But wasn’t that a rather foolish plan? The owner could be anyone? Petharic was not the type to just walk up to random strangers and ask them if they were missing a wind-up key. Wouldn’t it be better to simply leave the key where it had fallen? The owner, should they ever search, would likely retrace their steps and in that case taking it with him would have the opposite end result to what he wanted.
Wait…what he wanted! Something curious suddenly dawned upon his wonder. What Petharic wanted was to make someone happy. How remarkable! That sudden realization made him smile and want to laugh out loud because that desire… to make someone happy… was something he only knew from another life.
He twisted the little key back and forth between his thumb and index finger watching it as if it were enchanted with the hypnotist’s charm.
Distracted by the moment, he was uncharacteristically caught off guard by the approach of a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four. In her hands she held a small music box adorned with butterflies. She held it up to Petharic who took it and inserted the key. He turned it several times before handing it back, with the key still inserted. By now the child’s slightly panicked and out of breath mother had finally caught-up. She looked relieved when she saw her child merrily dancing to the chimed rendition of a popular folk melody.
“What do you say to the nice man?” prompted the mother.
The little girl looked up at him with big hazel eyes and said, “Thank you mister” in the sweetest little voice he’d ever heard.
Mr. Petharic liked things to be concrete and predictable so this reflection came as a particularly troubling meditation. Existential angst did not become him.
It was in the midst of this rather dark reverie that the flash of something metallic near the end of the bridge caught his peripheral notice. The object, channeling what it could of the attenuated New Babbage sunlight, interrupted his thoughts not only as a curious distraction, but a welcome one as well. It looks a bit like a key of some sort lying by the end of the bridge.
Upon closer examination, having picked up the small steel item from the cobblestone nearest the bridge, he determined it was indeed a key of sorts… a wind-up key designed to work ratchet-like to tighten the spring of various clockwork devices. From what device had it come and what mechanical effect would its turning cause?
Petharic looked around wondering what to do. He contemplated taking the small metal key with the intention of keeping an eye open for whoever may have dropped it. But wasn’t that a rather foolish plan? The owner could be anyone? Petharic was not the type to just walk up to random strangers and ask them if they were missing a wind-up key. Wouldn’t it be better to simply leave the key where it had fallen? The owner, should they ever search, would likely retrace their steps and in that case taking it with him would have the opposite end result to what he wanted.
Wait…what he wanted! Something curious suddenly dawned upon his wonder. What Petharic wanted was to make someone happy. How remarkable! That sudden realization made him smile and want to laugh out loud because that desire… to make someone happy… was something he only knew from another life.
He twisted the little key back and forth between his thumb and index finger watching it as if it were enchanted with the hypnotist’s charm.
Distracted by the moment, he was uncharacteristically caught off guard by the approach of a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four. In her hands she held a small music box adorned with butterflies. She held it up to Petharic who took it and inserted the key. He turned it several times before handing it back, with the key still inserted. By now the child’s slightly panicked and out of breath mother had finally caught-up. She looked relieved when she saw her child merrily dancing to the chimed rendition of a popular folk melody.
“What do you say to the nice man?” prompted the mother.
The little girl looked up at him with big hazel eyes and said, “Thank you mister” in the sweetest little voice he’d ever heard.
“Bye-bye.” she said with a wave.
Petharic continued to watch as the little
girl skipped down the street, pausing to share in a moment of laughter with her
mother. Within that laughter he found a new sense of clarity and a great deal
of relief... he never needed to kill again. He may not have discovered a
purpose, but he discovered a direction. He needed a new job.
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