The Minaret

There was once a city lost in time, whose limestone homes, built one atop the other, rose like gentle hills across a vast prairie of bronzed clay. Wire as thick as a child's arm tangled around a brick wall which wrapped the city like thorns around a budding rose.

The few foreigners who had the fortune of discovering this nether region of man's creation, found it within a cauldron of blazing red sand -- alone. One could never discover the city if accompanied by another and for this reason it came to be called the Fool's Dream. For those who managed to return, were never quite in their proper state of mind. Bumbling incoherently about what could have been, or what should have been. The weak-spirited among them appeared to have sworn oaths of silence prior to their return, and were never heard to speak again. But most never returned.

Gregor Schelieck would return -- and with a yet unforeseen hold on sanity. Unlike most, he had not sought out the city. Grief-stricken following the loss of his wife during childbirth, he longed only to escape from a life which reminded him only of his lost love.

He broke into the barren wasteland drenched in tears, stumbling forward, falling into the sand and hesitating to raise himself up. He walked onward, moving with no apparent purpose straight ahead, and collapsed into a sinking sleep with his face in the sand. He woke the next day standing before a timeless alabaster gate. Hidden to the side of this gate, on a post, barely legible, were the words: "Caveat Emptor."

The sun broke through the horizon, and a sudden rumbling began to form as though the city rose to life. With nothing to lose Gregor approached the gate and it creaked open revealing before him a force unlike anything he had yet seen in his life. A city abound with activity and creation; where every force of nature was set to work and man liberated from serfdom. Every building bore a wind mill, and streamlets gushed along the alleyways, pulling countless gears and machinery into life. Fish stacked five feet high upon tables with no attendants. Bread formed and baked without the guidance of any mortal, pulled into visibility by chains. Crafted wares of every conceivable purpose and function lined the streets. And armies of men and women plucked these items off the tables and wandered off without the slightest care.

The University they called it, a single spiral Minaret whose scope and size out-shadowed the rest of the city shone like polished ivory with the rising sun. Gregor would soon discover that the sole occupation of every resident was present in the Minaret, in the pursuit of knowledge driven by the simple adage "liberation through education." The city had no authority, and therefore no laws, people were led by no religion outside of those which they wished to practice themselves on their own terms.

Before he could approach the Minaret he was interrupted by an old man whose shaggy white hair looked almost incandescent. In his hand he held a pink beverage that bubbled and had formed a frigid layer of condensation on the glass.

"Please drink," the old man said. Gregor thanked the man and swallowed the draft in a single gulp. Before the taste could register, Gregor had collapsed onto the ground and hunched over gagging onto the pavement.

"What was that," Gregor asked while panting for air.

"You will feel better soon, my friend," the man said, "I am Sephoy Zemir. Please rise and take a seat beside me."

Gregor looked up at the man as he sat and noticed that he wasn't nearly as old as he had originally appeared. The contours of his face changed as though he was peering at him through a flame.

"What is this place?" Gregor asked, his voice failing him as though pleading for mercy.

"I am not entirely sure. See, I was once in your very position. I was new, and curious...and frightened. I would spend an immeasurable amount of time trying to understand precisely what this place was, reading through the countless tombs of the Minaret until I discovered that it wasn't so much a question of physicality, as there was not in any one of the books a single reference to this place with a name or a definitive location. It is instead a mere thought. A whimsical dream shared by countless souls made reality by an ethereal union." It was clear that the answer did not satisfy Gregor and instead fed his desperation. He rose now, the pain having left as suddenly as it had begun.

"I have had no such dreams as these. My mind cannot even decipher most of the things which I see, nonetheless for it to conjure them at will."

"Then I would recommend that you join us in the Minaret. But I should warn you, that for every question we answer, ten will take it's place. And that should you always strive to feed your curiosity you will find yourself all the more unsatisfied."

"Then what am I to do? Is there no way to leave?"

"Of course, you may leave as you came. But then, perhaps, you should also wonder whether you would want to leave such a place which has attracted the curiosity and longing of some of the most brilliant minds humanity has ever known. Such regret may haunt you to the end of your days. Would you wish to forsake a dream without the slightest understanding?" There was a silence as Gregor marched back and forth, he sensed that he could think much more effectively now then at any other point in his recollection. Dozens of thoughts crossed his mind simultaneously.

"There was a sign before the gate," Gregor said "upon it was written "Caveat Emptor." I am wondering now whether the wise man who raised this sign left it as a forewarning for any who should wish to remain here. That his study led him to believe that we may find greater happiness if we should accept life as it is, then to strive to answer it's countless mysteries, serving only to lead us down the path of madness."