Lab C: Chapter 18 - What is the purpose of purpose?

Chuck was led by the cool little dude to a high walled courtyard where a dozen other cool little dudes practiced martial arts up until the second they could hear the foot steps of Chuck. The first cool little dude sticks his head in the entrance and waves, the other cool little dudes shout “Pin!” to greet him.

Pin waves back and motions to Chuck as he steps in. He awkwardly waves and they all look upon him with awe. They rush him and touch him all over. One of them curiously pokes at Chucks crotch and Chuck gets bashful at the bulbous mound. They all laugh, and for the first time in a long time, Chuck laughs too.

They fashion him shorts and a vest to match theirs.

Pin explains the story of finding Chuck and as he listens, Chuck begins to pick up a few words. He decides, this is a school and these cool little dudes have dedicated their life to their martial arts. They sleep together, bathe together, and even share their clothes, storing and picking them from a communal pile.

Chuck leaves his clothes with theirs. Every day, they make it a bit of trying on his clothes to see if they fit any of them yet, and they never do.

The cool little dudes feed Chuck simple meals and when they are able to find or afford fruit or meat they do their darndest to explain to Chuck what they mean. None of these cool little dudes is a great teacher, and they talk over each other, but Chuck feels the vibes and accepts his inability to understand.

He tries out words and there never seems to be a consensus from the group, but when Chuck sees Pin nod, or give him a thumbs up, or any of the other odd body motions Chuck decided were positive he stores the word in his head to be used.

From day one, Pin shows him how to punch. It comes quickly to Chuck and after a few sessions purely of delighting the cool little dudes with the novelty of a rock monster punching holes through whatever they presented to him, they all began to include him unceremoniously in all of their training.

He graduated from kicks and punches quickly, as these cool little dudes loved elbows and knees. Before his arrival, they would train these parts of their bodies against trees and stones, smashing their limbs into them for hours, developing thick, dry callous that reminded Chuck of his own body.

They attempted to spar with Chuck for many days before he caved. Fearing how he might hurt them he refused as best he could, but the cool little dudes wore him down. He found himself quite happy to be the thing that they could test their shins and forearms against. Soon it became a reward, Chuck had decided, to be chosen to train your limbs against Chuck’s body. He felt honored that he could be such a pivotal part of their regimen.

Chuck knew there was a city that the cool little dudes would visit. They brought back foods, supplies, crude furniture, and random novelties, but Chuck had no desire to ever leave. He stepped into this life style as if he were made for it.

And he was made for it. Pin taught him everything he knew until Chuck could move it with perfection. Chuck’s hands moved like bullets and his knees and elbows like trains. The way he flowed through stances and positions brought such awe and inspiration, that when Chuck was in the zone, all the little dudes would sit back and watch with delight.

One of the smaller, rounder cool little dudes had nightmares and would often awake from his slumber in terror. Once Chuck was there, he cuddled up against him and never had a nightmare again.

Another, taller one, felt bashful and embarrassed by his appearance and could never find the courage to speak to girls. Chuck watched him, and saw the way he hung his head after looking in his reflection in pools of water. How he would flex in the sun light to look at his shadow, but would deflate every time. To be fair, his head was a non-symmetrical egg shape and his body was uneven and lumpy, but Chuck saw the beautiful man inside.

Chuck made it his goal to communicate to him how fantastic he was, because he was. This same uneven, lopsided egg headed man would always try to teach Chuck the words to things, no matter how totally unable Chuck was at deciphering what in the world he had to say. For all he could tell, there were potentially 27 different words for their version of rice. This did not matter, the lumpy awkwardly shaped man tried with complete earnest for all of Chuck’s time here.

Chuck learned how to better contort his face and give the amorphously shaped man looks of admiration and confidence boosting fist bumps and back pats. Over many months, this slouched, droopy, weird look cool little dude stood up straight. Held his head higher. Placed his feet wider. Before Chuck’s very eyes, despite all of his flaws, this man become a studious example of how one holds themselves matters so much more than what they hold.

One day, this messed up vase headed lanky goblin person came racing into the courtyard to find Chuck. Delighted, excited, and all around jazzed he explained to Chuck something, and when Chuck saw his hands make a pristinely curved vase shape, Chuck knew he had found a woman. While he stayed with the other cool little dudes still, Chuck knew why that dude was suddenly gone most days.

With all the extra time afforded him, Chuck picked up other skills, and since he refused adamantly of leaving his new home, those skills all revolved around taking care of the cool little dudes. He learned of their seasonings and ingredients, not by name, as each them seemed to have a different idea of what you might call something, and then would argue about it leaving Chuck utterly in the dusts of understanding, but he learned their tastes and the techniques they would use.

He had never been much of a cook back in his past life. He hadn’t been much of anything. In the pursuit of nothingness and the pursuit of tranquility, he had only really gotten good at sitting still. Clearing his mind. Here, in this space, while he found that flow at times and punch or sauteed like he were a bird on the winds who caught such a gust that it could simply be and continue on its journey with no effort, he found himself much more at home in his own body and more at peace with all of reality when he his thoughts were filled with ideas and contemplations on his situation and how he could further support and aid the cool little dudes.

Chuck invented the broom here, though perhaps it was just these cool little dude who had never thought to use tools to make the place better. He burst rocks and created a rock garden with raked sand in one corner. The cool little dudes delighted in making foot prints in the sand and creating designs in it. Though Chuck at first was mad, one of the quietest of the cool little dudes drew a cartoon representation of Chuck in the sand, and that anger evaporated more quickly than it had come.

While their shelters had been decent when Chuck arrived, he made it his mission to give them something more, something grander. It was the only time he ever really left courtyard, in pursuit of trees and rocks and materials he could use to build up their growing place of residence. The cool little dudes would have found a way to be happy with only stars and clouds above them as they slept, but with Chuck, they would know majestic comfort, protection, and safety.

Months, maybe even years after his arrival, Pin sat down with Chuck and tried to have a conversation with him. Though his dictionary of potential understanding had grown significantly, Pin seemed focused on an idea that Chuck hadn’t encountered before.

Pin mimed himself teaching, and said the word slowly, intentionally. He mimed the rain coming down and going into the plants, the plants growing, and said the word again. He pointed to the fattest cool little dude they had, and mimed eating, then said the word again. Example after example, and Chuck landed on “purpose”.

Pin shrugged then pointed at Chuck and said the word again. “My purpose?” And Chuck motioned to them, to the garden he’d made, the house he’d build, the cool little dudes who reveled in life itself.

Pin did their equivalent of shaking his head. He asked again and Chucked pondered. The question came to him, “Why am I here?”

As he punched a boulder they had rolled into the court yard, the latest in their attempts to give him something to train on, he searched his mind. Why was he there? He explored the idea that his existence was tied to these cool little dudes, but, certainly that couldn’t be it.

He punched harder and harder, and thought maybe his purpose was to punch really hard. He threw a knee and the boulder split in two. He sighed and stretched his neck out before heading to bed before all the other cool little dudes.

That night, his dreams were plagued by the moment he had lost sight of the world he knew. He dreamt of the face of the man who had allowed him that final step into true nothingness. Who had seen what he was and chose above all things, to merely go home.

Fuck that guy. Who the fuck was that guy? How the fuck did his questions lead Chuck into this absurd, other worldly series of experiences which had ultimately landed him in the happiest place he had ever been. The happiest place he ever would be.

This mans face burned so bright in his mind that he awoke in the middle of the night, and for the first time in forever, he needed to take a walk.

He walked through the forest and found a creek. He stepped in and felt a semblance of water flowing over his feet. He looked to the stars and wanted to lie down, so he did. The water flowed around him perfectly cooling his back half as he watched the stars which seemed so picturesquely like the stars he had always remembered.

If they had been different, he could not tell.

Deerish deer walked by him, and neither paid the other any mind. A bird landed on him and poked at him, then flew off. He laid there and tried to think of anything else but the man who had been there just before his departure from that existence.

The sun began to rise and he decided to go home.

As he approached, he saw random dudes running away from the walled courtyard whose door he had left open.

Chuck stepped in and saw his court yard in peaceful serenity. Except, they should have all been awake by now.

The first evidence of what had occurred dripped down the steps Chuck had built up to the elevated home they all shared. A crimson pool began painting the steps in immeasurable slowness, drip by drip. The silence told Chuck enough, but he had to see.

All of them, dead. Slashed, stabbed, or otherwise drained. Chuck had no concept of whether they had wealth or if they were known in the nearby towns. Chuck couldn’t even summon in his mind a direction he should walk to pursue those men he had seen leaving.

He didn’t even cry at first, he just sat looking at the bodies in case there was any movement. There was none, and no one came to check up on them.

Chuck cooked too much food, and left filled bowls on the floor near the cool little dudes. He clutched his knees and watched their permanent slumber, the steam disappearing from the bowls.

The next day, Chuck raked the sand garden and broke the boulder down into smaller chunks. With his hands, he dug more than a dozen deep holes and moved each of the cool little dudes into them. The crying began as he carried the 5th one, the one with the shrill laugh who tried to play pranks of Chuck, but Chuck never really realized since he could not feel what the cool little dude had done. It wasn’t until minutes later when this cool little dude could no longer hold his shrill laughter that Chuck would know that anything had occurred.

The crying became ugly sobs and with the 10th body, he had to take a break to sob into his hands. Quiet surrounded him and empowered him to weep to the skies in dramatic fashion. The face of the man he had seen last flashed in his mind and he smashed the ground with his fist, resolve filling him.

He cried but held searing fury in him. He saved Pin for last and rested on his knees besides Pin’s body. He calmed himself, and mustered all of his peace and resolve to be entirely present and here with Pin in this.

Allowing the tears to come, Chuck said, “Pin, you saw me and immediately called me good. You welcomed me into your home and into your life with no fear of what I could do or what I might bring. You gave me a family more than I had ever known, a purpose deeper than I knew possible, and joy greater than any that could be explained. Pin you were my purpose, and you gave me a future, and a present, to make sense of my past. I know what I must do now. Thank you Pin. Thank you in this life time and every other life time. Thank you… thank you,” he drops his head to the floor and sobs, “thank you so much Pin… I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry I brought this…”

He continues to thank Pin and apologize as he carried his body to the final hole.

The work carries into the next day as he buries each of them, telling the story as he understood it about each and everyone.

“You hated when you were noticed, but hated it more when we ignored you. The smile you hid was worth the anger you threw when we celebrated you.”

“Your desire to show me new things lead to meals no one else ate, but we shared them and I learned more about cooking because of it. You showed me weird bugs and told me too many words for them, and so I still don’t know what they’re called, but I know how you felt about them, and I will forever share those feelings.”

“Despite your head, you walked as though you were a king. And you were a king. You were my king.”

The stories he said with truth, sincerity and grace.

For Pin, he kissed the ground and said thank you one last time.

When the processions were over, he opened the gates again and shook with his fury. The face of the nerdy man who had started it all covered his vision. Even with eyes open he saw it. Chuck howled and punched the ground. And he punched the ground. and he punched the ground.

The hole he dug would have been immense, but in this surrender to the feelings, he was flung from physical matter reality and floated through space and time just as he had when he first achieved a state of nothingness.

He punched and punched and punched, focus never wavering until, he heard a car honk.

The sound snapped him from his trance and Chuck looked to the side to see a yellow taxi drive by the alley way he found himself in. Looking forward, he realized he had been punching a poster on a trash can.

His mouth dropped open, it was the nerdy man. His face anyways. Somehow, he had pulled himself back into the space where that man not only existed, but was famous. Chuck knew his ultimate purpose. Chuck knew what he had to do. Chuck existed to kill this man. Chuck would kill this man. All Chuck had to do, was find him.

“Yo.”

Chuck froze.

“You really hate Steve Jobs huh?”

Chuck looks to his side and sees the man who would eventually kill him.

John Grimsen.