The World According to Stanley

Following in the vein of story's that may not actually be about what they are about, "The World According to Stanley" was one of the those brilliant ideas that I could not resist writing. It is a few years old, but still makes me laugh. The premise, which I cannot tell, left me in stitches. I know a lot of people enjoy it, and I hope you do too, so without further ado,


The World According to Stanley


How do I start this? My world is aflood with the curious; the unknown. Around me are my peers, some whom might know, some who don't know, and a lot who think that they do. But this is no way to start a story. To know where I am I must first tell how I have gotten here. That means I must start at the beginning; such as it was...

In the beginning there was nothing. Around me were an unknown number of my brethren. We were filled with anticipation for we knew our time neared; not that we had any idea what that meant. It was the culmination of a lifetime to be among those who would make the journey, and though we knew our mission to be important we didn't, and I think still don't, know what that importance was.

None of us were prepared for the radical changes that our environment would take. The force of our launch knocked, I think all of us, out of our senses. I remember, when we came to, the sheer shock that our environment alone wrought upon us.

Is it possible to explain, even to myself, the differences between where we had come from and where we had yet arrived? From our cramped quarters we came into an expanse so great that it is almost beyond compare. And yet we had barely regained our senses before we felt driven to perform the task for which we had been created. It became clear, too, that there was great competition among us. I say us, but it cannot describe the sheer number that had been assembled for this, our unknown task. Even as I tried to count our number, companies began to form as the most driven and zealous pushed with all speed to the task. I cannot say what inspired those who offered resistance against others who did fly toward our unknown fate. I can only venture to think they were born with the same loyalty that I myself felt for that dear soul who, with such eagerness unequaled, raced toward that horizon wherewith we knew our goal to lie. I joined under his guidance, and I still wonder whether that was the soundest of choices to make.

The tightest of skirmishes that we had cannot compare with the madness we found at the head of the valley; though there were many. When we came forth we were one person, but after... we were many people. Now... I cannot say. We have not yet gotten to now.

Can I describe that scene, that battle at valley's head; at the pass? I remember thinking it must be some kind of test, that only the strongest and fittest were required to continue. How could one people become such tightly knit groups, and beget such horrors and honours upon each other? I say this, yet I know we were in the forefront trying to get through that pass. I cannot imagine what it must have been like after we had breached the gap. Nor did the proximity of the battle aid us when we came through to the other side.

We had thought the valley huge, but it did not prepare us for the vast plain that spread open before us. At some point I remember wondering how we were going to achieve our mission with so much space. For the first time I wondered if there would be enough of us and even now I wonder what we have achieved.

At the same time, our passing through the valley redoubled all our excitement and joy. There was great clamouring and congratulations after passing through that hell hole. Indeed, though the competitive vigor remained, the sheer scale of the plain reunified our thoughts of one people with one mission. We believed there was space for all, and at that stage we were encouraged again to the notion of it as a sport; as some athletic race.

I surmise that the pass emptied into the narrowest aspect of the plain and that those high rugged walls which edged the plain as far as the eye could see were designed with a specific and unknown purpose. As I look back, I think most of my brethren ventured off along the right wall while many more ventured into the great wide open. Only a few of us ventured along the left wall. I think we believed we would fight less if we threaded that course. But who can say. I felt some loyalty to my team and followed the lead. And follow I did, and with almost as much excitement as I have ever known.

It was with great camaraderie, as though we were so many a reckless youth; oblivious to danger, ignorant of fear, and driven to succeed; that we set off. That first day found us boundless in energy and scope-less in dreams.

The second day began much like the first had ended, though the distance between groups continued to increase, it only served to increase the strength of our companionship and our loyalty to our leader. And as the distances continued to increase our playful and childlike buoyancy rose as well.

It was well into the morning when we came across a breach, though that sounds too small, in the wall which we had been following. One might have called it a road, but it had a curve to it which reminded me of a riverbed, a feeling which grew the further we traveled down it. It was a great contrast to what we had been seeing and we all felt an odd blend of curiosity and compulsion to explore it's unknown courses. How rightly our intuition was served.

We followed the riverbed's course for a while before we came across it. It. Who can say what it was, what it is now. Not I. But this does not serve either.

As we rounded a bend in the riverbed, our sight was greeted by something so alien to us that it is hard to describe. Not one of my brethren describe it the same, though there is no mistaking what he is talking about. Suffice, for the moment, to say it was a giant floating orb like none of us had ever seen but which all of us knew we were looking for.

We drew closer and I, at least, began to see it clearly. It was a globe, but a globe so big I think everyone who left on our mission could have fit inside. She was beautiful. There was a softness to her semi-translucent exterior that swirled in such a wide range of motion which spoke to us to draw near. It spoke with a voice that none of us heard, but was filled with such a sense of motherly love that it felt as if we were coming home.

Our boyish playfulness vanished at the sight of her, as our sense of competition destroyed even the bounds of loyalty that had held us together. It was a game, that same kind of sport that we had felt once we'd cleared the pass, only now it was we who were competing.

The closer we drew, the greater our sense of purpose, of belonging, grew and the more fierce the competition became. It was an every-man-for-himself race. The orb seemed to open itself up before us. We were home! But Jonas was faster than I. That, what some now call the Temple of Infinite Doors, closed itself to all others. Those like myself who were almost across the threshold were pushed back. Some of those around me continued pushing against it, trying to make something happen. Others, like myself, watched through the swirled exterior as Jonas pushed hard into the very center of the orb. Then he vanished; even as we watched, he vanished. There was a weird moment that combined confusion with a sense of success, and disappointment with fulfillment. I believe I was one of the first to realize that when that sense of completion arrived, no other mission, no other goal popped into our heads. What were we supposed to do now, I wondered.

I think that though all of us had all four of those conflicting feelings coursing through us, most of us felt one more so than the others. For me, confusion and disappointment reigned. I cannot believe that this is all we had before us and I'm disappointed that it was not me who crossed the threshold first. Yet I know I was in the minority as all around me celebration exploded. Most were filled with the senses if success and fulfillment. As I wandered through that veritable orgy of enthusiastic celebration I could hear the words of some who I felt were a little extreme, but who were nonetheless drawing large crowds. They heralded the name of Jonas as sacred, and that our pilgrimage was holy; destined to be repeated by many. They called upon his daring and bravery to be with us and that we should all emulate his strength. I cannot but think they had forgotten how we all had strived as Jonas had. Most of those who spoke so were of the same group as I, but others who had heard and were spreading the word embellished it still more by claiming that Jonas had selflessly sacrificed himself that we all might live. Remembering how we all selfishly clamoured I cannot recognize this selfless act. I will not even venture to say if being first was good or bad, but I digress. Those who preached claimed there was a lot we could learn from his sacrifice, that we could evoke his name and gain his favor. I believed there was a lot to learn about Jonas' "sacrifice," but I do not think it is in regards to what we gained, but in what we've missed.

Even now as I look upon this "Temple" I can see it changing, though I do not understand what I see. I don't think those around me have noticed and I don't think I'd want to hear what they'd say. It is the end of the second day now, and they are preaching still. Some of our brethren are still coming up the riverbed, but they do not race as we did earlier and they all stop to listen to the preachers. I'm curious to see what tomorrow brings; for today's ending does not bring to me the joy most others have found. Already I hear the name Doubter being whispered about others such as myself who, though rare, have denounced the preachers in the name of evidence or the lack thereof. And I wonder what this changing, floating orb will have for us tomorrow, for I sense all is not yet done.

DAY 3
Chaos, uneasiness, terror and zealous reaffirmation; these are the laws of the day. Above us the orb has grown¬ – and altered. It's new state has acquired, what I can only describe as a second compartment, which seems the twin of the original. Uneasiness is the general rule as those who did not so fervently accept the preaching of yesterday already question that which they had heard. The uneasiness spawns the chaos as everyone mills about discussing what is happening. Ideas spring up and die. Some preach of new gods, some preach of the devil, but few are really listened to. Those that are listening are even more fearful and extreme. But I can see yet no real reason to fear. Those who are in terror are in terror of the unknown. They roll all that they do not understand into this nameless fear. The only thing that seems to bring them peace is spreading their secret fears to others.

And then there are the preachers and the zealots. As much as I disagree with them, I cannot argue against the fact that they have kept the peace and quelled nerves with their fervent belief that Jonas is looking after us.

Their ideas, whispered to each other and preached loudly to the rest, argue that strength and devotion will lend to us the same grace that claimed Jonas. They view the new chamber as evidence of faith that one true believer has already made manifest. This other orb which will, in due time, open up to reveal itself to such another true believer. They argue now that greater faithfulness will give rise to more of these chambers; Chapels to the Devoted. I do not find their descriptions plausible, let alone believable. Without knowing what has happened to Jonas, I find their ideas to be pregnant with disappointment and that their faith, though fervent and honest, is a miscarriage of knowledge. Yet as I have said, I cannot argue that they have not kept the peace; even if they haven't dispersed the chaos.

But I have not yet heard anyone comment upon the fact that this orb, along with the gathered throng, is moving down the riverbed. It was moving when we found it, so perhaps I should not be surprised that it continues so. We travel slowly, but It does not stop, so now I'm wondering what will happen when we regain the plain. And what's more, it seems those changes I witnessed yesterday are still or again taking place within the orb, though now in both compartments. What does this mean for us and this "Temple?" Is faith really being rewarded such that this temple continues to expand? Do our activities here really have any bearing upon our situation? What I really pray to know is the truth, for confusion is all I feel now; and doubt.

DAY 4
Fear is supplanting confusion within my being. Far too many of my brethren are dieing. The weak and truly confused seem to be passing on, and while I hope something great awaits them, I think only a great nothing calls. Havoc brews as this orb has again doubled itself, a thing that inspires many to greater fear. And though the zealots yet hold to their ideals, many of their followers now cry of the "Great Folly" and hold Jonas not as saviour but sinner who will cause us all to die. They claim only prayer and faith will save the worthy. Those zealots who started it all still look upon the orb as holy and contend that heaven is growing inside. They claim it will continue until there are enough chambers for all the faithful, and that everyone should prepare for when that flood water breaks and all but the truly faithful are swept aside. Trouble is brewing between the two, and those such as myself have learned to hold our tongues.

Yet, out of all this death and fear, another tribe has given birth to a new ideal. From the far side of the great plain came one of those who had gone forth with the mainstay of our people. He was near death when he found us and spoke of the utter failure of the other party. They had found nothing at all, though he spoke of another river course. When he at last caught sight of the orb, a mighty gasp escaped him. He spoke to us of it's magnificence and it's perfection and went up to it and kissed it. Then he died. Those around him raised him up, and held him even as sacred as Jonas for he and he alone had remained devoted to the principles of the sacred pilgrimage.

What is this "holy" that they all talk about? Where do they get this idea of sacred? We have ventured with one mission into an alien territory and discovered something even more alien than the terrain. We have, as far as I can tell, fulfilled our mission. What was the purpose? I would like to find some seed of truth in what they speak, but if they are like me, all this talk was born of confusion and their faith from their fear. Where is the proof of this heaven? So many are dieing. Is it a lack of faith? Or is is it a lack of anything real to have faith in.

DAY 5
Death comes for us all today. All around me the faithful and the fervent are erupting through their fears, and the question of heaven or hell has turned just as deadly as the spontaneous death which presides over our day. Iniquity comes from every mouth but those of the dead; and the orb has once more doubled in size. It does not seem as though it will stop. Is death proportional to it's size? Most that are alive think this orb is hell made manifest. I am glad I no longer have the energy to move around. Right now it is safer not to, as the rough violence around me would just as surely bring my death.

It is clear to me that none of these cults are right, and that even if this orb is heaven, there will be none of us left to enter it. So too, if it is hell, why are none of us there yet? The third cult may be right to herald devotion to the journey, but if Jonas was indeed the chosen one, it matters not whether or not we were or are dedicated.

There must be some greater plan, some noble purpose behind the release and ultimate demise of so many, but if there is I cannot see it. I try to find some solace in that the job was done, I just wonder if it is better to be one of us, or to have been Jonas. And even if I could tell the difference, I'm not so sure it would matter. Is there salvation only for the one who gets there first? Is there life after our goals are stricken from us? Are we doomed to hell because we were not the first across the threshold? These concepts are just as alien to me as the orb over my head. I see only death coming for us, and yet now I am not afraid. If some higher intelligence guided this mission, and if that mission succeeded, then is my death not a suitable offering to said intelligence?

I may not be Jonas, but I lived my life, and even as death swims through the haze towards me, no higher intelligence would seek punishment when only one could succeed among, perhaps, even millions.

This alone I know. We were released to fulfill a mission; therefore some other force dictated to us what our mission was. That only one could succeed is evident by the playful and combative nature of our journey. But what Jonas succeeded in is beyond me, and my death must allow some purpose. This is what I hope. What I fear, however, is that because I was not first, I am waste. But I know that no amount of prayer can bring me salvation for my purpose died long before I will.

If this is true, than this senseless violence around me is even more senseless for their is no goal, no reason for us to live. We are flotsam in Jonas' wake and the most we can claim is that we helped him get there. I feel death approaching, so I will finish before it is too late...

I wonder what it must have been like to have been Jonas, but all I might have been is dust. I know no one will mourn my death because they will all be contemplating theirs. Hence; as I die, I can only wonder whether it is better to be among the dieing, or to be like Jonas, a single and lucky sperm.