Finding a Purpose in the Sky

For the unaware, Markton was flat. The extent of its flatness is truly difficult, maybe impossible, to comprehend, but in the hopes of broadening your understanding of the world in which we live, lets give it a try, shall we?

A good place to start would be for your to take a look out of your window. Windows are wonderful tools that tell us so much about a place and even more about the people who live there. Do you see hills in the view from your window? Do you see mountain ranges or valleys? Are you on the third, fifth, or one-hundredth floor? Do you see trees? Now to get an image and attempt to see the world through the windowsill of a Marktonian, take all of these things… the hills, ranges, buildings, anthills, potholes, and yes trees… are erase them for none of these things exist within the boundaries of Markton. It is flat by any and every definition of the term.

The people of Markton, were creatures of their environment. They rose early in the morning (as the rising sun hit their lands unimpeded by any natural or manmade obstructions), and opened the doors of their subterranean dwellings to go about the meanderings of their days. They tended to the root crops that held their harvest beneath the fertile soil. Pumped their water from the hand powered wells that drew from the deep aquifer of the earth, and, in common fashion, conversed with one another in the monotonous tones fitting for custom of the Marktonians. The lack of surface features, the flatness of the public sphere, made privacy an issue of course. Each Marktonian can see each Marktonian and so the peculiarities of individuality were soon washed clean by the generations of people hiding their truest selves for fear of being seen as… well not flat.

Edmund Flat lived in this land for his entire existence. He woke from his dwelling every day for the last 40 years to tend to the same root crops of potatoes and turnips, selling what he did not consume, and doing his best to live up to the Flat name. On one peculiar day, as Edmund worked the field, he came across a treacherous turnip. No matter how far he dug he could not dislodge this root. He dug deep finding the edges of this monster, and when the outline was clear he pulled with all his might. With one last gasp of exertion the turnip gave way flinging itself upwards and toward him as the force of Edmund’s pull thrust him backwards. He landed on his back feeling immobilized by the strain and taking time to do an internal review of his body’s condition. In these moments, he stared to the clear sky. He never looked to the sky. He knew it was always there of course, but never giving it or its purpose any thought. But there it was. In this sky was a solitary cloud floating aimlessly along the blue background. White as cotton and Edmund, forgetting about any pain his body felt, searched his mind for the word that described what he was seeing. The sky, this magical cloud, was so… tall.

Tall. Tall. Tall. This word kept Edmund awake for nights on end. Something was above this flat land. Something had a purpose that was not flat. Why was it there? Why did the sky choose to be so unflat?

For one-year, Edmund could not escape these questions. He had the feeling that the day he looked up was the most important day of his life, but he could not tell why. It turns out that Edmund would have one more day of significance ahead that would change everything, forever.

The traveler arrived just after noon, when the sun was at its zenith. Parched and slowing catching every forward movement with a reluctant leg grazing over the low grass with every step.

“Excuse me sir,” the traveler spoke softly to Edmund. “May I trouble you for a glass of water? This land is hot and I have come a very long way and still have much longer to go.”

Edmund was surprised at the geniality of the man. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he was polite and not at all dangerous in appearance or temperament. Edmund ran to fetch a cup and filled it from the nearby well. The man drank the water with care. Thanking Edmund and asking, politely once more, for another. Edmund acknowledged this request and once more ran to fetch more water for the traveler. “He still seeks to travel onward.” Edmund thought. “Maybe after his thirst is quenched he will be on his way.”

Edmund came back to the man, water in hand, to find the traveler resting on the grass. Eyes closed, and facing the sky, Edmund cleared his throat to get the man’s attention, but received no response. “Excuse me good sir.” Edmund announced, but nothing came of it. The traveler had died. Edmund in his growing age had seen many of his neighbors die. The Marktonians gathered and decided a burial was fitting. Beneath the earth, under the wide expanse of flat, was a proper and respectable end.

In the three months since the traveler’s burial, the unrelenting thoughts of the tallness of the sky, was replaced with the thoughts of the traveler. Who was he? Where was he going?

On a Sunday, after his daily chores, Edmund paid the traveler a visit. Sitting by his grave, Edmund could not think of any words to say. He didn’t know the man after all, but he felt it was right to be there. Just as the sun began its descent toward setting, Edmund collected his things to leave back home, when a small turnip he had in his knapsack fell to the grave. He reached down to gather it with groans necessary of a man his age, when he saw the most peculiar thing he has ever seen. A sprout. A little growth coming from the grave, but unlike any he has seen before. It was reaching upwards, building a strength to grow that he has not witnessed in the grass and roots he was familiar with. It must have come from the man, he thought. Maybe within his pockets or attached to him somehow as he came into the earth.

Edmund returned to the grave every day to bear witness to this new development, and every day the small sprout reached higher toward the sky. He brought water to keep the sprout healthy and poured it over the grave of the man who had once died for the want of it. The sprout became a tree. Soon it was taller than Edmund and kept growing higher into the sky. When the tree was twice the size of Edmund, the town became concerned. “It’s unnatural.” They would say. “Nothing should be so… unflat!”

In weeks and months that past, Edmund spent little time on any matter other than tending and supporting the growth of this miraculous tree. Edmund marveled at the sight, and for the first time he experienced the struggle of being unable to see the top of the tree from the grave site. Day after day, he visited the tree, watered its roots and spoke to it with a loving sincerity of a friend. One day, the little Suzie Flat, daughter of Rudolf and Abigail Flat, proprietors of the Marktonian shoe cobbler store, could be seen in the distance from the tree’s base. She walked closer, hesitant but interested in the goings on of this controversial yet magnificent tree.

“I’m Suzie.” She said to the aging Edmund.

“I know, little one.” He responded.

Quiet set in between the two.

“My dad said we used to buy your roots before, but now you don’t sell roots no more” she said.

Edmund didn’t respond, uncertain of how to explain this unexplainable shift in his life.

“I like roots stuff.” Suzie continued, then after a second of deep and serious thought asked “What kind of root food stuff can you eat from this thing.” Suzie pointed at the base of the tree and traced its height to the top, stretching her arm as she pointed upward.

“Well, little one, I don’t think we can eat anything from this tree.” Edmund responded thoughtfully.

“So, what’s it for?” Suzie asked.

With this question, Edmund was seized. He did not know what a tree was good for. He did not know why it so desperately wanted to reach the sky. He did not know what his efforts were for. None of these questions killed any interest in the tree, but they were certainly questions worth pursuing.

With a long moment of silence between the two, Suzie said her cheerful goodbyes and went on her way.

“What is the purpose of this tree…” Edmund ruminated at the thought. The tree gave shade to Edmund now, but that could not be its true purpose. It bore no fruit, had no roots to harvest. Edmund stared deeply into the base of the tree but found no answers. He craned his neck upward seeking a response. There was none. So, Edmund went home to return another day.

Years past, Edmund tended to the tree daily and sought to answer the questions that plagued him since Suzie’s first visit. Suzie visited Edmund and the tree regularly to, Edmund assumed, check on the progress of the quest to find the usefulness in this strange addition to the once completely flat world of hers. She had grown, and the questions she posed to Edmund had increased in depth and curiosity. Edmund was growing old and tired. One Tuesday, after watering the tree’s roots and pondering of its purpose, he laid down in the tree’s luscious shade. No one was around that he could see, yet he heard a sharp and distinct noise from within it. A rustling stirred his mind awake, and he quickly stood to see what its cause was. Peering into the thick branches of the tree’s tops, he saw it. An animal of some kind. It was the size of the rats he would see in his root fields, but this rat had only two legs. “Was this rat born of the tree?” he thought. The creature hopped facing one direction then another with a swift twirl of its body and then… it spread its chest to reveal two appendages that were as wide as the thing was long. Pushing these appendages downward the thing lifted then… flew. It flew beyond the tree’s branches then back, continuously and Edmund could think of nothing other than the creature and the cloud that changed his life those many years ago. Do the trees create these creatures? Do they create the clouds? Edmund did not know but he was determined to find out.

The next weeks plunged Edmund in the pursuit of finding his way up the towering tree to see for himself what magic awaited in its tall branches. He fashioned rope and mustered a plan. He would use the rope to go up. For the common reader, the concept of “up” is often overlooked as commonplace. For Marktonians the simple fact was no one had ever been “up” and never considered it throughout the course of their lives. Edmund would be the first to go up.

The day came, and Edmund was busy preparing for his ascent when Suzie, now nearly a woman in her own right came to pay the tree, and Edmund a visit. “So, this is the plan, huh?” She said as Edmund tied and untied knots throughout the rope’s length with a degree of uncertainty.

“Yes, little one.” He spoke. “You asked what the purpose of this tree was, and I intend to discover it.”

“You really think there’s an answer up there?” Suzie asked looking up to the thick branches that covered the tree’s trunk. “Maybe somethings don’t have a purpose… maybe some things just are.”

Edmund stopped briefly. He had grown fond of Suzie’s company over the years. He never settled down, never had children of his own, but felt a welling of pride in watching little Suzie grow. “Things must have a purpose” was the answer Edmund fell upon though he was not convinced by it and he knew it was a shallow response. Suzie looked thoughtful at the answer still. “Well… you go up there and figure it all out and I’ll be here when you make it back down.” Suzie said decisively.

With that Edmund threw one end of the rope toward the nearest thick branch. It flew over the branch allowing him to tie it tight. Bracing his legs against the tree’s well-formed trunk he began upwards. Reaching one branch and flinging the rope to the next he scaled higher than any Marktonian has ever scaled before. The branches obscured everything beyond the tree for much of his ascent until the leaves and branch bore an opening. Edmund was without words for the sight. High above Markton he saw the world beneath him. His world. The only one he knew, now from a view that made it look completely and beautifully different. Tears filled his eyes, and he did not know why. He sat on the branch before this opening for an eternity. Seeing sights he never could have imagined. This must be the birthplace of the clouds, he thought. This must be the birthplace of the little rats that can fly. The power to stay in these heights must come from this tree. And with these thoughts he knew what he must do next.

The branch he sat upon was far too thin to support his weight for very long. He must reinforce it if he was to do what he knew he must do. Every day since his first climb up, Edmund returned to hoist himself up once more, this time bringing with him the tools to take the lower, thicker branches up and construct a suitable platform. He was to join the clouds and the little flying rats. That was not only the purpose of the tree, but now became his purpose as well.

The toil of this task was heavy. Suzie would still visit and in the resting moments from the strenuousness of this labor, she would regale him with the many updates of her life. She was finishing school. Top honors. She found a man who was young, handsome, caring, and compassionate. She was growing to be a beautiful woman in both appearance and spirit. As the work continued, and the life of little Suzie unfolded, small changes were made to the platform. Unconscious additions Edmund had made here and there with little rhyme nor reason. He made a small chair one day at the platform. Then a wall. These things served little purpose for his ultimate end of joining the sky at last, but they found their way within the tree.

The day came. He was an old man now, but he knew the work was complete. He was ready to scale the tree one last time, to fly from it at long last. He made it to the tree in the early morning but waited. He did not scale it immediately. He sat and thought of nothing other than hoping Suzie would join him for this wonderous occasion. She did come and he was elated to see her making her way to the tree that consumed so much of his life. He greeted her with a large smile, and she had a look of supreme joy that was recognizable from miles away. “Edmund, you won’t believe it!” She beamed to the old man. “I am to be married!”

Edmund found his eyes welling once more with tears.

“Congratulations little Suzie.” He said embracing her in a warm hug. “Oh, he is wonderful,” she said going at length of his interest in having her pursue her dreams and how wonderfully supportive he was in her thoughts and ambitions. She spoke of her dream to have a family, to live a life full of love. Edmund was overjoyed and nearly forgot about his impending flight. He congratulated her once more, then thanked her for joining him on this important day. Suzie did not have all of the details of Edmunds plan, for surely it would seem outrageous to any one unfamiliar with the tree or its magic. But she was happy for his excitement and wished his luck on this important journey up the tree.

He climbed once more through the routes he knew well. His body was not what it once was, and even the most well-worn routes gave him difficulties. Yet, he made it to the platform. He braced himself. Thought of the clouds and of flight. Looked at the scenery below and stopped. In this pause, he looked around. The platform was study, built strong against the tree and well supported by its branches. It was comfortable. It was safe. He thought of the sights, the beauty of the world around him. And then he thought of Suzie and the world she will be living in. He felt a pain of not being there for her wedding, or to watch her family grow.

Suzie’s daughter was just as precocious as she was. Questioning everything she saw and seeing the beauty of life around her. It has been two years since Edmund left them and in those two years life has changed so much for her and her family. She remembered him returning from the tree on that day, she remembers him smiling with joy at her wedding. She thought fondly of the months they spent sowing seeds from the tree across the land. She looked around at her home, high above the growing forest, comfortable and safe, and thanked him for giving her his last gift. A home in this marvelous tree for her and her family to grow.