The Ingenious One

Embedded Correspondent Reveals Ingenious One’s Dark Hole

A heavy fog rolled over the Mediterranean hillside as his ship pulled into harbor.  He hadn’t been home in decades.  He debarked amidst the cacophonous sounds welling up from the dock: seaside merchants shouting, fishermen flying up-and-down the pier, and young men pedaling Turkish coffee.  As he walked, shouldering his seabag, heads turned in acknowledgement.  He was a hero in this Mediterranean port town, a god among lesser mortals.  The working sounds of the seaside squelched to a questioned mumble.  Waves swooshed underneath the pier.  Head forward, chin high, he made his way up the slight incline that rose above the docks.  The path wound past a patina encrusted bronze statue, a statue of the man.  Halfway up the hillside, he stopped at a blue door framed inside a small cottage dingy from both time and salt.  He reached for the knocker.  A voice called from inside, “Come, come!  It’s open.”  The man entered.  He dropped his seabag in the entryway as a short, scruffy man using a cane hobbled to the door.  The old man stopped, straightened himself.  “You,” he said.  “Yes, it is I.  I do not hide this fact.”  “After all this time?”  “A broken man knows nothing of time.”  “Broken?  What has transpired?”  “I have lost…misplaced something of great import.”  “What?”  “Ingeniousness.”  The old man nodded and turned away, “Follow.”  Looking out over the Hellenic ocean from the old man’s balcony, he started, “Ingen—”  “Stop,” the old man cut him off, “only look.”  Lost in thought, he had no knowledge of time.  The sun wheeled in the sky, splashing soft purple hues upon dark waves.  The cry of seagulls settled below wafted upwards.  His ship, cast far out among the waves, drifted away, thinking only of its next port-of-call.  The old man finally spoke, “Ingeniousness is nothing more than this.”  He pointed towards the ocean.  “This makes no sense.”  “Does it not?”  “No.”  “No?”  “No.”  “Ah, then you are broken.  May God forgive us all.”  The old man walked inside.  “I will get wine—much wine,” he called from the kitchen.  The man went back into the hallway.  He knelt down next to his seabag, opened it, and removed a football.  He walked back to the balcony.  Looking at the ball, he wept, and threw it upon the reef.  “Goodbye,” he rasped, “goodbye my friend.”

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