Pasatiempo

A LIFE MADE FROM ALMOST NOTHING

Seth Abes, 12, Santa Fe

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Day 0: I wake up in a white room. Everything around me feels like a blank slate, or something someone gave up on. The room is not that large, and the only thing in this room is a bed that sits in the very middle. I get out of the bed and realize there is nothing else here. Suddenly, the abrupt realizatio­n comes to me. I wish there were more. More for me to do, more for me to see, more for me to comprehend. I think and think, if there is something else beyond this room, but I come to the conclusion that there isn’t, because I search the entire room, but I find nothing besides the one bed that I woke up in.

I learn a new feeling, frustratio­n. I become mad, and grab one of the two sheets on my bed, and tear one apart. I learn that I can destroy things. I start kicking one of the walls. I kick and kick and kick. I start kicking the second wall, then the third, and then the fourth, yet the walls don’t break. I sit in despair, wondering why I’m the only one in this world, in this one little room, with nothing but a bed. At that point I am tired, so I lie down. I slowly drift away into sleep, pondering what will happen to me in this small world.

Day 1: I open my eyes once again, only I remember what happened last time, but something is different. There is a set of blocks, sitting in one corner of the room. I gaze at them for a second, only to become more and more curious. I walk over, and pick one up. It’s not that heavy, but it’s rough, something I’ve never felt before. There are many blocks, and they are all built, or stacked, to make the shape of a cube. I take another one off the cube and stack them in a new way. I smile, as there is something new for me to do. The first day I built a similar shape to a cube, but four of the side lengths are longer than the original cube.

Day 2: The second day I built layers, each layer smaller than its predecesso­r, all the way to having only one block on top. This took several tries, because I didn’t have enough blocks, and sometimes I had too many, and I wanted to use them all.

Day 3: The third day I mostly sat and thought. Thought of all the things I had created in the past. I realized that, if I can make different shapes with the blocks, then why not make different shapes with just one block. I knew I could destroy things, but maybe I wasn’t really destroying. I was creating something new! I bang this one block against the wall, over and over. Small pieces start breaking off, and it starts to form a new shape. It starts to be rather pointy, and a sudden sting shocks me in the hand. Something red starts to run down it, but eventually stops.

Day 4, 5, and 6: In these three days I learn I can get hurt from several things in this room. Sharp objects, and falls from certain heights. I also learn that I can heal from these injuries. I also gain instinct. I can feel when it’s not a good idea to do something that is dangerous, or if I think an action could prove helpful.

Day 7: I learn to describe if something is like me or not. I am living, because I can move by myself, and think. These blocks are not alive from what I can tell. Nothing else in this room is alive, so who or what put the blocks there?

Day 8: I experience­d boredom for the first time. I long for someone else like me. I come up with an idea, but it will take time. I go to bed to get extra rest.

Day 9: I grab a block, and start pounding it against the wall. I eventually break off a piece, and start banging that against the wall. I create several more chunks, and then one sharp chunk. I create my first tool.

1 Month: After a while, I crave something else like me. There’s a fairly large chunk of wood on the ground so I use that. I grab one of my sharp tools, and start shaping something that I think looks somewhat like me.

2 Months: My figures start out rather boxy looking. But over time, they start to look better and better. I reckon it’s because of my practice every day.

4 Months: I make more and more characters, but I haven’t actually done anything with them yet. So I decide to create a story. Here I am, with more than just me. There is someone else, and we become friends.

1 Year: My stories have become more and more elaborate. There is more than just my friend, but a whole group of people. We all live together in this room, and we are happy.

2 Years: I give everyone names, but not just my figures, but my tools as well.

1 Decade: I start to speak out loud, not everything is in my mind. But my figures can talk, I can talk.

2 Decades: I’m coming to the point where I have done so much. I can’t remember everything anymore, but I feel more in the present, more in the now. I’ve learned to contain my emotions.

2 More Decades: The more I do, the more I learn. I realize that I have never made a figure of myself. What do I look like? I’ll never know fully who I am. I can’t see myself. I start touching my face, trying to get a sense of my facial features, but I can’t think of anything. I sit down in despair, like so many years ago. I look at the room I’m in, and it looks the same. It’s still four white walls, and a bed in the middle. I look around, and see all of my memories. One day after another, and I never escaped this room, because this room is all there is. The room didn’t change, time never passed, and I wouldn’t have died. But I’m smarter, and though time may not pass in this world, I have become happy.

I point one of my long sharp tools at my chest, when suddenly a small rectangle opens in the wall and people run through at top speed yelling something at me but I can’t understand what they’re saying. They try grabbing my sharp tool away from me but I hold on. They continue yelling, but they lose grip and stumble backward.

I close my eyes again as I drive my tool into my chest. Their yelling becomes more and more faint. But no matter, they cannot save me, and that’s ok, for I am at peace.

 ?? ?? Seth Abes is a seventh grader at Santa Fe School for the Arts and Sciences. He has a love of guitar and playing tennis. His inspiratio­n to write this story was because he recently became more interested in science fiction. He loves reading other people’s ideas on what they think the future could be like. Seth also started creating dioramas. He has wanted to become a writer, or an architect, and loves to learn new things everyday.
Seth Abes is a seventh grader at Santa Fe School for the Arts and Sciences. He has a love of guitar and playing tennis. His inspiratio­n to write this story was because he recently became more interested in science fiction. He loves reading other people’s ideas on what they think the future could be like. Seth also started creating dioramas. He has wanted to become a writer, or an architect, and loves to learn new things everyday.

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