Marble Machine

What if our world exists only through a machine?

As a child, I've taught the traditions of my family. It was something that made me realize that I was different compared to other children. I don’t know if that’s really a good thing but in the end, I just forgot about this uncommon fact.

One of the lessons that I had been taught are the elements of our existence which boils down to three things:

First is Eternity. Everything is eternal, yet also finite. Having an end, and a beginning. It always cycles in an infinite loop.

This eternity is measured by a second element: Time. We consider time and eternity to be the same but they are completely different things. If Eternity is eternal, Time would be the measuring tool for Eternity.

And for the final element"Continuity. This is the reason why everything is infinite. The world is a cycle. Just like a machine that is held within our house.

It’s a living machine. It always creaks and cranks, as marbles fell through complex intricate tubes, falling into a pile that will be brought back again to go through the tubes.

Sometimes the marbles will fall outside the machine, and sometimes the machine will break. That’s why our family exists. Our duty is to simple assist the machine to continue working. I never really understood why, but every adult member considered it important that the machine continues to work.

That machine was a piece of curiosity. I wasn’t allowed to touch it as a child, nor was I allowed now without my parent’s consent. Instead, I just ignored it"stored it inside my mind"and continued living on.

Then came my 16^th birthday. Everyone in my family was fawning on me, and perhaps I should be glad too. I knew that at this age, I am now a guardian of this complex machine. In fact, I barely remember about it now.

So no wonder that it still amazed me when I saw the machine again. The machine, having a long funnel that carries the marbles to the top, another funnel that branched off into numerous tubes, that will lead the marbles falling back into a pile below it.

Marbles littered the floor around it, it was a while since the marbles were returned into the cycle of the machine.

We gather up the marbles. Placing them in a bag that I held. Once midnight fell, we waited. My parents had explained this phenomenon to me as we wait. What should happen is that the machine will stop and allow me to return the marbles back into the pile.

The room that contained the machine is lit orange by candles at its corners. Moonlight glowed outside as the trees rustle in the wind. Silence fell into the room; the only sound is the marbles falling like raindrops.

I stare at the machine. A click sounded and everything stopped. I"who was holding the bag of marbles"was still moving, unaffected by this phenomenon. The rustling of leaves stopped, and I looked outside to see the tree frozen in its place, leaves stopped mid-fall.

My attention turned to the machine. My disbelief had been debunked, perhaps the machine does symbolize our reality. And as I stood there now, I realize my duty as a member of this family.

I slowly approached the machine and knelt. Holding the bag, I started to pour the fallen marbles into the bottom pile. As the marbles fell, a thought occurred to me.

Perhaps, this machine would be misused. The thought made me fear of what will happen to this world.

The final marble in the bag fell into the machine and it once again, started moving. I stood up shakily and turned to my parents.

“You’ve done it?” My father asked.

I nod. “Dad, what if this had been placed into the wrong hands? What if its existence was known to the wrong minds?”

My mother walks towards me and places her hand on my shoulders. She answers my question in a kind soothing voice. “If that happened, the machine would never stop functioning before those people. No matter how many marbles fell to the floor, as long as the continuity of this world is at the right hands, just then the machine will stop.”

I nod, I had understood it in a sense, but not fully. I doubt my parents fully understood it too as there was a faint expression of doubt when they answered my question.

After the ritual, we held a small celebration and held on until morning, in which we slept until afternoon. I never told anyone about the machine’s existence, nor have I brought it to mind again, unless needed.

Author's Note

Thus, another short story published. Like Starmachine 2000 and Sommarfagel, this is also inspired by one of Wintergatan's pieces titled, Marble Machine. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvUU8joBb1Q) I watched the video and it amazed me. Soon, when I was listening to Wintergatan's songs, the thought came to me, as I listened. So, I hope you'd enjoy. This is much longer than the others though.

Reviews

[Abraham George]

i have seen that video . Its really amazing and thanks for sharing that piece . i never seen it before.

beautiful story that connected to that YouTube video. love the way you expressed your imaginations and big salute for your creative idea.

share these type of work please. love to read and listen to such beautiful work.