Why?
‘Why?’ was the question most often asked by the boy. He would never stop asking this and all its variants. ‘How come?’ was another of his favourites but it never quite had the same grinding ring to it as ‘why’.
The responses were rarely satisfactory. He hated being told ‘it just is’ or just ‘because’. Why bother pretending there is an answer if you don’t know it.
He really thought ‘why?’ was his reason for being. But in truth, ‘why?’ was simply his reason for being hated. Some people think it is difficult to hate a child. These people have never been asked ‘why’ to seemingly innocuous questions such as ‘Would you like some juice?’.
Given time the boy eventually grew out of his ‘why’ phase. All of his ‘whys’ stayed bottled up in his head where they should remain. And so, the infuriating boy grew into an insufferable know-it-all teenager. He figured after all of his ‘whys’ surely he must know everything by now.
The know-it-all phase was almost as infuriating as the ‘why?’ phase but it too came to an end. The insufferable teenager eventually became a quiet young man. The young man was still riddled by ‘whys’ and smart-alecky response but he finally had the wherewithal to keep them to himself.
‘Why?’ he thought.
‘Why did I try to pick up the coin, I don’t collect coins?’
‘Why did I so eagerly reach for it, I make a decent living?’
‘Why are these steps so icy, did the council not salt them?’
‘Why is this set of steps so steep, this can’t be up to regulation?’
‘Why…’
And with his last thought, all he was vanished. That last ‘why’ never to be resolved. The quiet young man went through one last change and became a body.
‘Why is it so dark?’
So, a new ‘why’ was made in its place. Only that ‘why’ felt weird. It felt like he was thinking it and saying it out loud at the same time.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“Hmmmm? Oh, you’re early. Ok I suppose we should get on with this so.”
‘Where am I? Why am I here?’ the remains of the young man thought.
“You are nowhere. And you are here because you died. Now we must proceed with the post-mortem interview”
‘Wait I died? Why am I dead? I shouldn’t be dead!’
“Yes, you died due to a broken neck. You slipped down an icy set of stairs and now you’re”
Before the being could continue the young man replied, ‘Why were the stairs so icy?’
“Hmmm, oh because road maintenance worker, Derek Keogh, responsible for salting that area was hungover after joining an impromptu stag party”
That was probably the most oddly satisfying answer the young man had ever received.
“Now please don’t interrupt, there are several pages to this questionnaire, and I don’t really feel like taking all day to go through them. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how much would you say you enjoyed your childhood?”
‘What, why are you asking me that?’
“Because it is my job. Now please answer the question.”
‘Why is it your job to ask me how my childhood was?’
“…. It just is”
There was just quiet for a few moments. The being asking the questions silently pondering its existence. The young man silently raging at such a dumb answer.
“Can we please get back to the questionnaire? It really must be finished.”
‘Why?’
“It just does. Without filling out the questionnaire we won’t know where to send you.”
‘Why are you sending me anywhere?’
“Because… because its my job. Look, I have no choice but to answer your questions and you have no choice but to answer mine. Can we please just get on with it?”
No choice but to answer his questions. A rare opportunity.
‘Why do you have to answer all my questions? How much do you know?’
“I know all that is needed about the mortal world. At least the physical side of it which is why it’s vitally important that we gather your opinions”
Time for a quick test.
‘When I was 9, and I told my mother that the dog broke the urn, what really happened?’
“You got angry at a game and threw the controller at the wall; it bounced and knocked the urn off the mantle. Now back to the questions.”
Perfectly accurate. This thing can answer any question I’ve ever had.
‘What are my options on where to go?’
“Well you don’t have any choices. The questionnaire decides where you go. So, your childhood, about a seven out of ten give or take?”
‘If the questionnaire decides where I go can’t I just pick the answers that match where I want to go?’
“I suppose, but you can’t look into the questionnaire and see where to go” the being answered firmly.
‘Why?’
“I… I don’t know. It just is the way it is”
----------------------------------------
Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands of insufferable questions later the questionnaire was nearly complete. The young man managed to work out the exact sequence of answers to go exactly where he wanted.
He was going back home, but this time he was bringing this mysterious being of knowledge with him.