A squat little shed of barely any apparent significance. Overlooking a shabby garden of dirt paths and shallow beds. The Director walked up the steps to the entrance of the shack, taking out a brass key and opening the door, “Come on inside my dear boy,” he said over his shoulder. Stepping inside, the Director closed the door and locked it. Bernard looking around, dusty books, rusted gardening tools, a pile of bike tubes, ‘the state of this place!’ he thought to himself, ‘garbage everywhere.’
The Director pulled out the same key once more and unlocked a small panel to the right of the doorway. Inside was two buttons stacked vertically. The upper labeled ‘G’, and the lower designated by a ‘C’. The Director pushed the latter and at once the whole room jostled with a shutter, and a sinking sensation was felt in Bernard’s stomach. “Shit!” he exclaimed as he grabbed one of the 2x4s making up the walls. He looked up to the Director, standing stoically and with a mundane look upon his face, as if standing in a checkout line. The Director never seemed to take a notable demeanor. He was always perfectly composed, well dressed, and stood upright and firm. Not a wrinkle in his azure corduroy suit nor a hair out of place on his neatly trimmed beard. Without moving his head, he turned his eyes towards Bernard, still clenching the wooden support, “Don’t worry my dear boy,” he said in a sigh, “just the lift is all, no need for profanity.”
“The lift?” Bernard wondered out loud, now gingerly standing up and slightly embarrassed.
“That’s right my dear boy, I’m taking us down to the caverns.” the Director explained.
Bernard was stunned, “You mean to say that there has been caverns beneath our feat this whole time! Do people know about this, how long have they been here! How do they-”
“Too many questions dear boy.” the Director stopped Bernard, raising a hand to silence him. “I understand it seems quite odd; however, you must understand that the answer is never really the answer, the real answer is to seek mystery.” The Director paused to adjust his corduroy necktie. “Not everything needs an answer, even if I told you the tale of these caverns you would only be left with more questions, I assure you my dear boy.” he stated matter-of-factly.
“But you must at least explain how it is that nobody even knows about them, it’s simply absurd!” Bernard pressed.
“Ah, absurdity,” the Director mused, “that really is the name of the game my dear boy. Well, if you must know, these tunnels have been here longer than this very institution. Our experts in the Department of Lore Keeping withing the Ministry of Propaganda believe it to have been created and co-inhabited by the lizard people and local gnomes. It is a closely kept secret. Few that walk around the University ever come to know of its existence. You are one of the lucky few who have been granted access to its splendor now that you have joined this Society. And now you too must keep this secret.” the Director finished neatly. It seemed to Bernard that this was not the first time the Director had given that spiel.
Just then, the room shuttered once again, “Here we are.” the Director said, as he unlocked the door and gently opened it for Bernard. What he saw as he stepped out of the stuffy shed was nothing short of awe inspiring. On the archway overhead, which lead to the main corridor, was a stone carved image of three juggling balls backed by a vertical juggling pin which lay atop a shield. Surrounding the shield was a garland of vines and fruits also carved smoothly out of the rock. Directly below was a banner which had chiseled into it the words, PECULIAR, TOMFOOLERY, and ABSURD.
Beyond the arch was a lengthy cavern which continued up high into the air, its walls and ceiling still rough from being excavated; the carving patterns of which looked as though thousand of tiny drills were used, most peculiar. The central room was a lush garden, with grassy paths and garden beds that twisted and turned like the roots of trees. The plants growing out of them were plentiful, bright green with health, and blooming the sweetest smelling flowers of spectacular color or growing the most delectable looking fruits and vegetables. Bernard tried to identify some of these plants yet most he had never before seen. The magnitude and almost magical nature of these plants stupefied Bernard. They even seemed to faintly glow in gentle pulses of light. In the center of this oasis, a tree the size of which shocked Bernard. Its branches were the thickness of the trunk of an average Redwood, and it towered to heights unseen from the ground. Hanging from it was moss that looked more like ropes, bioluminescent lights sprinkling down them. The bark of the tree was thick and rough yet had a layer of leaves encasing its branches like feathered armor. A group of people sat at its base, their eyes closed and unmoving like stone. They were nestled between roots so large it created a sort of enclosure around them. Wrapping around the whole garden was a stream which babbled delightfully as it snaked around the foliage. The roots of this massive tree served as bridges across the water, as if planned by an architect.
Bernard looked around towards the walls of the cavern, it was then he noticed the multiple other archways lining the corridor, each with another large room beyond it. The archways had similar signs and crests at their peaks, Bernard could just barely make out the one closest to him. It depicted a tri-Allen wrench and air pump crossed, surrounding them was a bike tire in lieu of a shield. Below this carving was a similar banner as before, but with the words, MINISTRY OF TRANSPORTATION dug into the stone.
“This is incredible! It’s spectacular! What an oasis of joy! I’ve never-”
The Director raised his hand in the same manner as before to silence Bernard in the midst of his gawking and squawking about the newly found sanctuary. He took out his corduroy pocket watch from his corduroy trousers and took a thoughtful look at the time. “I’m terribly sorry my dear boy, I do hate to do this,” he said in the same even voice as before, “but it seems as though time has escaped me.” The Director placed his hand firmly on Bernards shoulder as if to console him, “I fear that I am due for a meeting of Parliament, we must finish this introduction some other time.”
Bernard was disappointed, “What? But this is incredible, how could you expect me to go about my day now knowing of this paradise?”
The Director moved his hand onto Bernard’s back to move him forward as they walked together. “I understand this is all quite overwhelming and mystifying my dear boy. But understand, you are not the first to walk this path, there were others before you and shall be others to come,” he said, this time with a tinge of compassion mixed with condescension. He continued, “You will be back here don’t you fret. But here, in the meantime, take these,” he had led Bernard to the nearest tree, which bore on it the most juicy and plump oranges he had ever seen. The Director plucked three of the oranges and handed them to Bernard. “Take these my dear boy and teach yourself the ways of juggling. Once you have done that, you’ll be ready for more. Now please, come with me,” he started to lead Bernard back to the lift.
“But wait!” Bernard desperately blurted, “When I do learn to juggle, what then, what do I do, how will you know I’m ready?!”
The Director sighed as he once again looked at his corduroy pocket watch, “When you can juggle those oranges, ascend to the roof of Diboll next Monday, exactly one week from now at this exact hour of 7PM. I promise you dear boy, accomplish this task and you will be granted a return to these sacred caverns again.” Just then, a woman, equally well dressed in corduroy came speed walking up to them both. She carried a large gong with her, “There you are! Come on, we’re going to be late to the meeting! Help me with this will you?” she panted.
“My apologies, I was just showing our newest member here around the place, lost track of time it seems, or maybe the time lost track of me…” the Director trailed off.
“Whatever the case, send him on his way and let’s go.” the corduroy clad woman said hastily.
“Yes of course, allow me to show this chum to the door and I shall be back in two shakes of a butterfly’s wings.” The Director replied, quickly ushering Bernard back through the archway and into the lift. “Remember what I told you, one week from now, the roof of Diboll, be there and prove to us you can juggle, toodles!” he closed the door and the lift started carrying Bernard up.
‘What was all that?’ Bernard thought to himself. He took out his notebook from this back pocket and wrote down, LEARN TO JUGGLE, ROOF OF DIBOLL ONE WEEK, JANUARY 15TH, 7PM. He tucked the notebook back into this pocket as the lift jolted and he opened the door back into the ordinary world. He walked out and looked back into the dusty cluttered shed, knowing now that it held mysteries and wonderment beyond imagining. The door swung itself closed and Bernard heard the lock click into place. ‘I must return,’ he said in his mind, ‘I must learn to juggle.’ With that thought he walked on, hopped on his bike, and rode with nothing on his mind but whimsey and a determination to juggle.