Post on 28-Jan-2023
Short story assignment
SHI Tianlun
53545996
The Traveler: An Unexpected Journey
There are always leaflets sent on the crowded walking
street of Mong Kok. If you have nothing occupying your
hands, hiding your hands in Jeans pockets is the best way
to refuse those endless rubbishing presswork. Look, I am
a civilized citizen so I will not waste my costly time
kicking your ass or dropping Jesus’ advertisement in the
trash can to the missionary’s beard. I know the word
“civilized” well. Today it means the treatment with
professional poker face and decent indifference to the
strangers around you in this lovely modern society. All
these wise summaries above are my everyday thought during
years of pale life. Ah, I feel that I am a brilliant
philosopher. My wisdom is the bastard of madness. “People
can be philosophers if they know how to be stingy with
love and think with hate.” I am proud of my axiom.
I was stepping toward until I noticed that man standing
around the corner. He was absolutely an eye-catching guy.
A scrawny man with pale skin, over six feet in height,
dressed himself in some kind of old-fashioned pitch-dark
formal suiting with a funny tile hat. His existence made
the modern merchandise street looked so weird and
unnatural, but it seemed that nobody on the street paid
any attention to this man. My curiosity drove me to move
towards that guy. As I walk closer, I found it
disappointedly that he was another guy sending something
like leaflets. Maybe he was just dressed up to be
attractive so that they could capture some foolish
curious fish like me, I thought. Just when I intended to
leave, he turned to look at me. He stared at me for a
while, then smiled to me, like saying “ah, you’re here.”
It was not a comfortable experience to see the smile in
his hairless, I mean neither beard nor brows, pale face.
I saw him swinging a copy of the presswork in his hand
waiting for me to take that as if he knew I would do so.
He was right. I drove by curiosity again. I took the
leaflet, felt kinda shame for being led by the nose, so I
speeded away. The leaflet was an ad of a travel agency.
Bali Island, Maldives, Malaysia-Thai…really nothing
special, except the MTR single journey ticket attached on
it. This ticket seemed like an old and stopped issuing
one with a subway map on its back, but weird enough, the
short route marked as “Truth Line” in the map was
inexistent among the real MTR lines. “Well, I am
tricked…” I mumbled, “By this meaningless ad idea.”
I swear that I did tried my best to restrain myself from
being led by curious again, but I still took out that
strange ticket rather than my Octopus card in the MTR
station, and shocked that the gate opened unexpectedly. I
should have taken the train home then forget these
oddities, but I could not help seeking for the entrance
that was lead to an inexistent metro station and I found
it. The entrance was a staircase at the end of
underground platform, it looked like any other staircase
in the station except that nobody accessed it. Nobody
accessed it, except me.
“Glad to see you, dear traveler…Mr. Durante, right? I am
Maro, your guide during our Truth journey. You may have
tons of questions now, but please hold your horse and
take a seat first. The train is about to run.” Said the
man in front of me, the same man I met earlier on the
street. He still wearing that weird suit, cap to me
smiling like a clean-shaven gentlemen in the 18th century.
So, I am here, sitting in a moving empty train, facing
with a suspicious odd man called Maro, not knowing what
happened to me or where we are going. But my damned
curiosity controls my brain again, it fills my thought
with imagination of this weird tour rather than sense of
crisis.
“Well, Mr. Maro,” I kneading my temples and ask, “It
seems that you know whom I am. All these oddities were
set for me by design, right? I think I need some
explanation for this so called ‘journey’.”
“I apologize for such a sudden arrangement. It may beyond
your understanding, but I promise that it will not screw
up our journey. Actually I got the command from my
superior saying that you, Alighieri Durante, have a
request for this journey. And I was appointed to be in
charge of the service this time. So I sent you the
invitation today then you come.” Maro replies in a cozy
tone like talking about ordinary things, ignoring my
confusion.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t send any
application to any travel agency or any other agency for
a journey, and I don’t even know who your ‘superior’ is
at all. Why me? What is the journey about? ”
“My superior has many names in human society. Those
religionists call it YHWH, God, Satan, Devil, Allah,
Buddha, Brahma etc.; those scientists and scholars call
it law of universe; ordinary beings call it time or fate.
I am sorry I am not able to define my superior with human
languages, but I believe that you can have a rough
realization about it because you are a ‘philosophy’,
aren’t you? Thought and wisdom are your capital, sarcasm
and cynic are your force. According to the instruction,
you always tried to explore the truth and essence of love
in your life though the conclusion you drew was horrible.
At least you like thinking, so my superior thought a
thinker deserve more virtues and wisdom of love. That’s
what I mean about ‘you have a request for this journey’.
You were curious, that’s a virtue, so you opened the gate
with the ticket of ‘Truth Line’ then showed up here
without avoiding occult things.”
“Bravo! Mr. Clown, so you mean that I am the
extraordinary chosen one cared by the omniscient God, or
I can also call him dear Satan as you mentioned, right?
Are you the archangel bringing the enlightenment to me?
Shall I kneel and express my gratitude for his favor?
What on earth do you want from me?” Maro’s theories are
so ridiculous to me that I cannot help regarding him as a
madman, a heresy fanatic or something like that.
“I am not here for arguing, dear traveler. I am just your
tour guide for this journey. I don’t care about what you
can get from it, that’s not my business. All you need to
do is enjoying your thought and journey freely. Maybe you
could understand more about...your life, perhaps, after
our service. Alright, we arrive our destination now.
Please mind the gap when getting off. This way.” It seems
that Maro doesn’t mind my satirical provocation at all. I
can feel that the train is slowing down.
The side doors are opened. Maro’s unbelievable words
still striking my head, but I can’t help it. Well, Mr.
God said this is a sightseeing journey, then let me see
what the God-sent landscape look likes. I manage to calm
myself down and go after Maro. I soon find that I am
really involved in an amazing supernatural today. The
train is stopping on a vast plain with out-door railway.
I confirm that this is not supposed to happen in reality,
but I can do nothing but accept and see.
A giant round sphere factory workshop appear at present,
it occupies the plain like an enlarged soccer ball on the
playground. The outer wall was painted white entirely
with some uneven decorations scattered on it. I identify
it as a factory because I notice a towering white chimney
standing behind the plant, exhausting some mottled gas to
the upper air. I approach the wall of the construction,
finding that those uneven decorations are withered roses.
“A strange white rounded workshop decorated with roses?”
“Exactly, this one is like factory, but the roses are not
the decorations, they are the signatures of the labors.
Welcome to visit the Amor’s workshop, dear traveler. Come
in this way.”
Maro leads me into the plant. There is no machine roaring
inside the factory as my expectation, but I see a massive
number of labors indeed. These people are working in
silence, sculpting something with varieties of materials
accumulated around. Their white uniforms are dyed with
the pigments while coloring their projects. I can
identify that they are sculpting something really
charming, such as the figures of perfect beauties or
excellent heroes. I have seen some labor-intensive
factories before; the workers inside were dull and numb
with their repetitive work, but all these labors here
working with spark flickering in their eyes.
“They are not ‘labors’, they must be artists!” I cheer at
Maro.
“Interesting. Why do you think so?”
“I see that they are not just producing something but
create some artistic works; I see the flame of love
burning in their spirit; I knew the sculptures are the
image of lover to these sculptors. They work with
passion! Isn’t it enough for being artists? Our ‘Truth
Journey’ is actually about the essence of art, am I
right, my dear tour guide?”
“Brilliant speech, Mr. Durante. Your praise make it
awkward for me to tell you the cruel truth.” My tour
guide shrugs, “Unfortunately, they ARE labors. All of
these workers were spoony lovers when they were alive.
Their worlds were filled with the imaginations of their
dream lovers since they fell in love. Regrettably, most
of them actually fell in love with the fantastic illusion
in his or her mind. They are just continuing their
fantasy creation in this world after death, attaching
those popular materials and virtues onto the figures. You
can call them ‘the artists under the command of Amor’ if
you like. But I’d like to call them ‘the slaves chained
by love’. As you know, few people can accurately sculpt
their lover’s appearance, whatever they are. ”
“So they are merely making some visional and unpractical
illusions? Is this place nothing but a rubbishy factory
of insignificance? ”
“Not that bad. Some of them might lucky enough or spoony
enough so that they are able to finish their perfect
sculptures eventually. Although these ‘perfect’ creations
are bound to be illusory, they are the vital products
from this factory. These products are delivered to the
human world then sold to more amorous fools as a seed of
their affaires; as for Amor, he earns lover’s passion as
the profit, and gain more potential labors for his
factory in the meantime. You see, Amor, the God of Love,
is not an artist. He is absolutely a merchant.”
“Well done, Maro,” I feel fatigued, “You really show me a
bloody truth in this journey. Thanks to your service, I
learned more cynical theories. Is that what your superior
really want? Praise the lord!”
“Be patient, traveler. The true essence is always buried
behind your eyelids. Amor doesn’t earn the virtues from
his business, nor does he produce them. Then where did
all those materials for sculptures come from?” He picks
up a piece of material called “Innocence”.
“Hum. Let me guess. What is that chimney used for?” I
find Maro is a practiced mentor.
“You are a practiced student, Alighieri.” Maro smiling
with satisfaction, “Disloyal lovers’ spirit are sent to
the smelter after death, their virtues become new
materials after purification; the vices are discarded. Do
you remember the labors wearing white uniforms? They are
dyed into the color of virtue they chose during the
producing process. They will reborn after finish the
sculptures. By then, the human world will receive
innocent babies with pure virtue in spirit.”
“Purification and renewal. I see the significance of
Amor’s factory. The love is not as charming as people’s
imagination, and it is not as cruel as a trap I saw.” I
make my “wise summary” with a Sigh.
“You seem enjoyable with the journey, Traveler. But
please leave your reflection on the way and stay close.
The train is about to leave. Our next station is the
Library of Fate. You will like it.”
This time I get on without hesitation.