O l i v e r B e n j a m i n
surrounded the awesome structure, drawn from Nile water and
signifying origin. But it was the smaller, oddly-shaped structure in
the middle of the temple that citizens did not recognize, nor
understand. But the sun-king had foreseen this dilemma and
provided a simple explanation.
“It is an ode to structure,” he said, “Years from now, future
societies will look upon this temple and will be forced to contemplate
the true nature of their various religions.” He paused dramatically
and looked up at the sky.
“What you are looking at, my friends, is a giant toilet.”
Sadly, even after further and continued explanation, no one seemed
to find the new temple very inspiring. Indeed, the response from the
crowd was something close to mass catatonia. The prevailing
sentiment among most people was that the king had been spending
too much time in the sun, and it was a great relief when they were
finally dismissed to return to the festivities, which were scheduled to
go on all night and into the next day.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Nefertiti demanded of the
sun-king when he returned to the inside of the palace. “Are you
crazy? What was that nonsense? A temple for shit? It is a good thing
that you are sent from the heavens, or I would wring your neck for
such idiocy!”
She stood up and ran out of the room, leaving the sun-king alone
with his thoughts. At length, he looked up towards the ceiling. Strains
of amateurish blues music wafted in from outside.
“I am so very sorry,” he said, to no one in particular.
And like the others before him, he too disappeared. Only his
disappearance differed in that it was of his own volition: He stole
away from the palace in a great black cloak and stumbled blindly into
the great expanse of dark desert where he expected to bury his shame
in the coarse and smothering soil of a planet that would surely outlast
him, and his kind.
He was not called home. He knew why. His home no longer
existed.
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