Counting Steps

It's a starry night above me as I walk. I'm walking to escape my day. Another grueling day, the kind that makes you realistically understand how unimportant you are to life, in the scheme of things. I walk, I kick all the little rocks I come across. The sky is beautiful, but almost too beautiful, too far away. Taunting me from its superior position that I will never reach or understand. The rocks, the rocks I can reach, I can move from my path. I try to kick the rock perfectly straight then predict how many steps it will take until I can kick it again. After predicting, I count. I've actually become pretty good at it. I can predict it with in 2 steps normally. This realization is depressing. That means these walks have become a regular occurrence, so regular I have become practiced in my rock kicking routine. Sad. Oh well, it still provides me a feeling of success.

As I go to kick the next rock I become aware of a machine humming sound. As I look around, I see a drone hovering a few feet up. I ignore it and keep walking and kicking rocks. After three blocks the drone is still hovering behind me. I make a left and keep walking. Then a right at the next corner. The drone makes all the same moves. It is still hovering behind me. I begin to think irrationally that the drone is following me. To put myself at ease I run back to where I first realized it, prepared to go three more blocks in that direction. Sure enough, the drone does the same and even kicks up its speed to keep with me. I'm full of questions and fear at this point, but after the day I had I didnt all together care what happened to myself. I turn a stare at the drone. It then dive bombs me. I throw my arms and hands up to try to shield myself from it. It stops before smashing into me and drops a box.

The box seems to be a paper weight. It is square and appears to be made of obsidian. I only know this because a friend of mine had been in geology and shown me some stones she found. Obsidian being one of them. I go to kick it and then decide against it. After all I guess this was some weirdo gift or a gift from some weirdo, I wasn't sure yet which one. I didn't want to offend whoever was obviously watching me. Although, the drone appeared to be gone. At least momentarily gone. I have a sanitizing wipe in my bag. I take it out and wipe the box. It has interesting ingravings on each face of it. Its too dark to tell if its pictographs or symbols. I would have to go home to really look at it. Since I had been-being watched I wasnt sure if I wanted to go home just yet. Instead I decide to go to the neighborhood park, sit on the bench and investigate the box. I use my phone's flashlight to illuminate it. I take my gloves off to hold it in my hands and trace the engravings with my fingers. Once my gloves are off, as soon as I touch it with both hands it comes alive. Its puzzle mechanism comes alive. It is more like a rubikcube. I shift it around as I would with my old rubikcube. Once I get to the point where all squares should be aligned the box again comes alive. Releasing itself, revealing a secret compartment inside its core. Inside is a single black rock. It looked like the ones I had been kicking all night. With the sight of this rock, my day came rushing back to me. I had almost forgotten everything with this distraction. A single rock. What was I to do with a single rock. I yell to the sky and stars. "Thanks, but what am I suposed to do with this? what do you want me to do?". Of course there is no response. I have seen no sign of the drone for the last 20 minutes. I keep the rock out of the secret compartment and put the two halves back together. When I do this it snaps together causing other contraptions to kick in. It is now moving on its own. It appears to be back to its original form once it's done moving. Instead of going through the whole process of opening it once again, I leave it closed. I place it in my bag.

The rock I hold in the palm of my hand. It is small and looks like the perfect rock for kicking. It has no obvious protrusions that would catch a bounce wrong and enough shape that it would carry forward in a spin. Not knowing where or to whom it belonged I was skeptical to kick it. "Why me?! I'm not in the mood for this. For a game or prank", I yell into oblivion. What was my alternative save the small rock, google it and obsessively try to find answers. No, that would not become me. Was it my fault they chose the wrong person. Even if it was worth money, I probably wanted no part of it.

Decidedly against it all, in an act of rebellion I place the rock on the street. I then precede to give it the greatest kick I have in me. I watch as it effortlessly rolls forward in a straight line. The rock going further than any I had ever kicked prior to it. It bounced on never deviating from the straight path I had sent it on. The satisfaction was enormously gratifying. Although, I was immensely inaccurate with my step prediction. I guess it would take some getting use to first. I kick it again. I watch as it spins forward in a perfect trajectory. It appears to go the same distance as before. I make my prediction, using the step count previously counted. I predict 34. I begin to count. I am immensely inaccurate once again. This time it is only 20, but it looked the same. I usually have an eye for distance calculations. Okay, I need practice. I kick it again. I watch as it tumbles forward in a beautiful journey forward. Satisfaction felt throughout me as if I achieved a great feat. This time I take my time with my prediction. It appears the same distance to me. I predict 25. Thinking it is close to both previous kicks. I begin counting. This time it is 46. "How can that be?!". Its maddening. I pick up the rock and clasp it in my hand. I kick another ordinary rock on the road. Then I predict 20. I make it there in 20 steps. "Okay, so I am not crazy, I still got it". I put the special rock down and kick it again. I watch as it travels forward before coming to a stop. I watched carefully and predict 32 steps confidently. I begin counting 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6........50, 51, 52. I look back, something I've never done before, to my starting location. I guess from here it does seem more like 52. This was the first time I had ever looked back. Usually I was all about moving forward, like the rocks I kick. This rock had forced me to want to look back. I pick up the rock, turning it over and rubbing it between my fingers. Its fairly smooth, but not as smooth as a river stone. Last time I reason in my mind. I set the rock down and give it a ha kick. I squat down, squint one eye, try to get level with the ground. I stand up and really look. I predict 36 steps. I cross my fingers and begin counting steps. 15 steps. "Oh come on, this is ludicrous". I look back again to my starting location. Again it seems closer than previously viewed at the other perspective. I try a regular rock once again. Again I predict perfectly. I take the box out of my purse and look at the strange engravings. I have no understanding of them. I look around realizing I haven't been paying attention to the streets I passed. I read Mulberry Ln. Mulberry? I couldnt possibly be on Mulberry. That is at least 3.5 miles from the park and 4 to my house. There was no denying it, I was at Mulberry Ln. I pick the stone up and call a lyft to get home.

Once home, I google the item. The obsidian box. I find beautiful elaborate puzzle boxes made with obsidian, but nothing like what I had in my possession. I google descriptions of the engravings, but find nothing very similar except for maybe in articles on crop circles. Supposedly those use math and geometric shapes to convey messages. I wasnt an expert decoder. I didn't know anyone who could help me with this. Plus trying to explain this to someone seemed like hard work. I remembered the drone. It was all becoming to eerie. I had to put it away for the night.

After two days I reevaluate the objects. I still cant make sense of the box, but I can still open and close it. I wait until after dinner to take a stroll. I'm intrigued, but reluctant to fall into the rocks scheme and far reaching hoax of a mind game. During the last two days the drone never presented itself. I didnt intend to encounter it again. The thought of it was far removed from being a present fear in me. The wonderment surrounding the power embodied in this small rock and its unusual casing becoming all consuming.

At dusk I go out to the street. I place the rock down on the ground. I wiggle my ankle and leg to loosen it. I give it a swift steady kick. The rock hurls forward. I take a deep breath and make my prediction. I guess a conservative 25. I begin stepping and counting each step. When I get to 30 I stop. I look back to my starting point and then forward to where the rock is. A spontaneous laugh erupts from me. It is at least double the amount of steps from what I guessed. I stop counting and walk the rest of the way to the rock. Once I get to the rock I kick it again. This time I make no prediction on the amount of steps. I simply walk to it and give it another kick. The simple act of kicking the rock provided enough satisfaction. I didn't need to compete against this inanimate object. The prediction was becoming daunting and defeating, but it was just myself forcing me to feel this way. The mere act of kicking the rock was enjoyable, that should be enough. I stopped challenging myself to be better or to complete the impossible task. I just allowed myself a walk. I kept going until I started to become tired of it. I decided on one last kick before I turn around and go home. I give it a sharp tap. Sending it quickly forward. This time it hits something and bounces off the straight path. I have been looking down. Looking around I realize I'm at the graveyard just past my neighborhood. That is at least 5 miles away. How could I have physically walked 5 miles and not realized it. Not felt tired at all. The rock had bounced off and landed in the grass covering a grave to the right of the path. I run to where I saw it land. The grave reads 'Mr. Dillard's Resting Place'. Under that it reads 'The truth really is the Mystery Of Life Isn't A Problem To Solve, But A Reality To Experience'. I stood gaping at the gravestone. It felt as if Mr. Dillard's was speaking directly to me. A blazon reminder of what I had decided for myself during the walk. I looked for the rock, but never found it. Maybe it found it's resting place with Mr. Dillard's. I really dont know. I looked into Mr. Dillard's it turns out he was an owner of a toy shop. He loved to travel and often found inspiration for toys from the countries he explored. He had written a few tour books as well. His books were different than most highlighting games developed in various places outlining their origins and evolution over time. He has one surviving heir. A daughter. I never reached out. His store closed long ago. The daughter never sharing in his enthusiasm for the business.

I still have no idea where the drone came from, why it chose me, how the rock did what it did, but I don't think I need to. I understood. I took the box that had housed the rock and put it in a glass casing to house it on my office shelf. A reminder to myself, that life is not a problem but an experience. A journey. I still go to the graveyard. I bring flowers to Mr.Dillard and often look for the perfect kicking rock. I still have not found it. Maybe one day it will return. I often look on my walks for other rocks that are equal or superior to that rock to place in the box. As of yet I have not found one.

References

Frank Herbert, Mystery quotes, azquotes.com