The Desk

The child’s bleary eyes gazed at pristine walls. The room was bright and had no windows, only a door. She had no recollection of why she was there—the place looked different than her room from the hospital. The girl stood up, ambled to the door, then left.

She stepped into a long hall and felt an opalescent aura surround her. Hollow tones echoed from her footsteps as she wandered. Many doors lined the hall, but she did not bother to try opening them. Her convoluted path continued, yet she remained tranquil. She felt like this was just a dream. 

 The girl sensed a faint voice in her head as she walked. A woman speaking, or perhaps praying—a familiar pattern she was used to hearing from her mother. The voice was soothing, but had a trembling weakness, fading with each step the girl took until she could no longer hear it.

After searching across halls, a clicking noise reverberated from afar. A rapid tapping of some sort. The child followed the distant sound as she drifted past more rooms, hoping that someone would be around to help her. The clicking became distinguishable as she ventured further; it casted clarity and began to sound more like mechanical workings. 

“Hello!” The girl shouted out.

The girl trailed the noise until she stumbled upon a room with an open door. The cursory beat of the clicks were coming from inside. She took a peek, nervous of what she may find. 

Inside, she saw a man sitting at a desk. 

Her eyes widened. The man’s back was facing her and it looked like he was typing. The girl took a few steps towards him, working up the courage to speak.

His typing slowed down. The man turned his face toward her as he took his hands off the typewriter. He saw the girl, then frowned. 

“Where am I?” the girl asked. She stared at the man, examining him. She noticed how bare his room was, only a desk and a chair and a typewriter. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. The man sighed at the sight of her.

“You are not supposed to be here yet,” he said. 

He stood from his chair and gave a look of deep thought. “I’ll make sure you get back home. Now is not your time.” 

“Time for what?” The little girl asked. “You know where I live?”

“Don’t worry,” the man said as he sat back down and continued typing. The girl walked towards him, observing his work in progress.

“What are you doing? Who are you?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions,” the man said, his hands busy on the machine.

“Is this your home? Why’s it empty? What are you doing?” the girl asked again.

The man stopped typing. “I create things,” he said, only answering the last of her questions. “Things, people, worlds. I pour them out on this machine and they get created.” He tried to explain everything all at once to prevent any more questions from the child.

The girl was still puzzled. She leaned in and studied the typewriter. It was big and bulky, its black metal glistened. She never saw anything like it and had no clue about what the man meant by creating things with it.

“I just have to be deliberate with what I put on here,” the man said.

“The librit?”

“It means I have to be careful. Especially with what I create.”

“You can make anything?”

“Not anything, but most things,” the man said. He looked at the girl, indicating interest in the conversation. “You got any ideas? I can show you some examples of what I do. Just something fun before I send you on your way home.”

The girl froze, unsure of what he meant. 

The man clarified. “Is there anything you’d want to see created? Anything you’re interested in?” he asked, hoping to spark some curiosity.

The girl was still thinking. “Can you make dinosaurs?” she asked. 

“I’ve made dinosaurs before,” the man replied. “Do you want to see them come to life?” 

“Umm, yes!” The girl’s initial disorientation was replaced with newfound elation.

“Very well, you’ll like this.” The man swung back to his desk and tapped the side of his machine, its previous sheet of paper magically replaced with a new one. He hit the keys in rapid motion.

“Look toward that empty space,” he said as he gestured towards the end of the room. A glow illuminated the area, and what the girl saw next shocked her. 

What was once a blank section in the room transformed into a portal’s view of a vast world with dinosaurs roaming lush land. The girl could smell fresh air around her as she felt vibrations on the ground. She witnessed prehistoric giants dominating a world created by the man typing beside her.

“What do you think?” He asked. The man halted his session as the girl was captivated by what she saw.

“You really made them alive?” 

“Yes, that’s what I do,” he said, “I create life.” The man smiled. “Anything else you’d like to see?”

For the next several minutes, he showed the girl more glimpses of his creations. He gave her more shots at bringing her ideas to life. In just a short amount of time, she called out many scenarios and concepts that her imagination could come up with and the man created it for her. 

Among these worlds, the girl’s mind lit up in bunches, no longer worried or scared for the moment, just as kids are when their dreams take them to fantasy lands.

It was a joy for the girl, and a pleasant break from the man’s monotonous schedule. However, it wasn’t long until the girl mentioned something that put a stop to the creations. The girl had one more big request for the man.

“How about... we make a world where everyone is happy!” She said with excitement.

The man paused and looked grim. 

He touched the coldness of his typewriter and expressed a wishful look on his face. The girl stared, confused with his discomforted expression. 

“Unfortunately, that is one of the few things I can’t make happen,” the man said. He looked at her with empty eyes.

“Why not? You made all the other stuff.” The girl looked at the empty space, expecting transportation to a new world, but the man didn’t type. The blankness remained.

“I’ve tried many times,” he explained. “Whenever I create people with a goal for all to be happy, something mysterious causes some individuals and groups to change.”

“Mysterious?“ the girl asked.

“There seems to be something out of my control that causes bad things to happen,” the man replied. He backed his chair from the desk and closed his eyes as he ruminated.

“It’s not fair.” The girl was disappointed. “I thought you create everything,” she said. The room felt hollow and the girl began to notice subtle echos when she spoke.

“I create as many good things as I can, but bad things still find their way in.” The man looked at the girl and hesitated before explaining further. “Sometimes, I think there’s someone just like me out there, doing the same as I, except with malicious intent. Whatever it is, it seeps into my worlds regardless of how perfect I try to make them.”

“Is that why my mom and dad warn me about bad people?” the girl asked, remembering her parents. Her mind was falling back to reality, thinking of how much her family was missing her right now, wherever they were. 

“Yes, your world has its dangers and negatives,” the man said. “You must always be careful, but remember… there’s also a lot of wonder and beauty and miraculous moments around you as well. The lens in which you see your world will determine how you live your life.”

“Lens… like a camera?” The girl asked.

“No!” The man laughed and startled the girl with his sudden glee. “Your perspective! Everyone sees the world differently. You have to see the good things that are there. A lot of people fail to see it.”

The man continued. “Even when bad things happen, always think of the positives. I see people call this a cliché all the time, yet I have witnessed people go through horrible experiences and still overcome it and find their happiness.”

He stopped and looked at the girl’s eyes. The man realized this conversation may have been too deep for such a little girl to comprehend, but the inquisitive look in her eyes and body language indicated she genuinely cared about the topic. He decided to continue.

“Just like I have things out of my control, you’ll face things you can’t control, too.” The man stood beside the girl and leaned toward her. “But you’ll always be able to decide how you react.”

“What if I get angry?” The girl asked. “I see people angry a lot.”

“It depends. Being angry is okay. It doesn’t always mean you’re being bad.”

The man elaborated. “There are no bad emotions, just bad reactions to an emotion. Some people use anger to fuel positive things—they make changes and improvements to impact what it is they’re angry about… but others use anger to do bad things.” The man gave a shrug. 

“I get it…” The girl stood still, understanding but not knowing how to fully respond. The man sensed it was the right time to pause and let her thoughts soak it all in.

“You miss your parents, don’t you?” The man noticed the look of longing on her face. “Don’t worry, like I said earlier, I’ll be sending you home soon. Your mom and dad will be happy to see you wake up.” 

“Wake up?” The girl saw this as confirmation that she was dreaming. 

The man smiled, his hands on his hips as he caught himself a bit exhausted at everything he just explained. She smiled back at him.

 The man sat back down and faced his typewriter. “I’ll send you home now.” He loaded a new piece of paper. “You weren’t meant to be here today. I’ll see you when the time is right. Maybe then we can create more dinosaurs,” he said with a wink.

He tapped away at the typewriter keys as the girl watched the room glow, then she looked at him one last time. 

“Don’t forget to find the good things, they’ll always be around. I promise.” he said to her delicately. The glowing grew as he typed. “You won’t remember much of me when you get back home. But you’ll remember this conversation in one way or another.” 

The girl was overwhelmed by the intense glare in the room—she began to hear the soothing voice again, her mother’s words entering her ears.

“I hope to see you again!” the girl exclaimed to the man as she felt consumed by the bright light.

The man continued typing, he wrote one last sentence while a radiant glimmer filled the room... 

“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again,” the man said with one last smile, then the girl was gone once he hit the final key on his typewriter. The man sat alone in silence for a few minutes, dazed in a somber serenity, then he walked away as he needed a break from the desk.