The Unanswered Question

A Story by Willys Watson

A large round table sat in the middle of a stately library. And around the table were evenly placed cushioned arm chairs. Suddenly the ghostly figures of Isaac Newton, Karl Jung, Sigmund Freud, Madame Curie, Ivan Pavlov and Immanuel Kant appeared and sat at the table. Then seven bottles of vintage wine and chilled wine glasses vaporized in front of them.

“It’s not surprising we all showed up again here, because none of us came to a valid conclusion to the unsolved mysteries we discussed the last time,” Jung started the conversation.

“Valid conclusions for some with a greater degree of comprehension,” Freud curtly replied.

“I knew you would say something like this,” Jung replied, followed by Marie Curie laughing.

“You two still act like vain and foolish school children,” Newton told Freud and Jung as he stared at them, then continued, “You’re like young lovers who had a spat and won’t admit the other made good points.”

“Words of wisdom coming from the mouth of a lifelong virgin,” Kant added.

“Play nice, you little boys,” Marie told them, then added, “But right now we should focus on who the seventh chair is for.

“Not Edison again, I hope, because he was such a bore,” Pavlov suggested.

“Maybe you should invite your dog, Ivan, so you could condition it to agree with you,” Kant told him, followed by snickering from the others.

“If I could I would because he’s smarter that most of you. But my dog eloped with Schrodinger’s cat.”

“And I think we should all agree that you wannabee comics shouldn’t quit your day jobs,” Marie told everyone.

“Oh, dear Marie, after your passing you still have such a radiant glow,” Jung teased her.

Jung’s reply caused good-natured laughter from everyone else at the table. After the laughter died down an older woman, perhaps eighty and the time of her Earthly demise, suddenly vaporized and seated herself in the seventh chair.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Pavlov asked her.

“I obviously am or I wouldn’t be here,” she told Pavlov.

“And who might you be?” Kant asked her.

“I might be anyone, based on your phrasing of the question. But just call me Martha. And I’m here mainly to listen, observe and hopefully learn something,” Martha told everyone.

“I know who this woman is,” Marie told her other collogues, then added, “And Martha is quite famous in her own field.”

“Thank you, Marie, but let’s keep that to ourselves for now,” Martha told her, followed by Marie nodding her head in agreement.

“Famous in your own field, right?” Freud asked.

Martha nodded yes, then poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle sitting on the table in front of her.

“Obviously, our unseen moderator deemed her worthy to be here,” Isaac stated, then added, “So, let’s get back to discussing the major unsolved mysteries now.”

“Of course, and I would love to as long as Karl and Sigmund can set aside their silly squabble and focus on why we’re all here,” Kant told everyone.

“And rely on your own concept of philosophy, Immanuel?” Freud curtly asked him, then added, “Why don’t you go off by yourself and ask yourself why the Chicken crossed the road?”

“Doctor Freud, you still can’t answer that question and, even in the afterlife, you still harbor serious Mother issues,” Marie teased him.

“Please excuse my interruption of your humor routine, but how do any of you esteemed collogues know if the Chicken did or didn’t cross the road?” Martha asked everyone.

“I think the question is posed as a metaphor,” Kant suggested.

“Of course you would, Immanuel, because philosophy is hardly an exact science,” Freud curtly told him.

“Doctor Freud, were you an actual witness to a Chicken crossing the road,” Martha asked him.

“Why is this women even here?” Freud asked everyone else.

“She’s an expert in behavioral science, you grumpy, bitter old man,” Marie chastised Freud, followed by laughter from everyone but Freud.

“So, Martha, how would we know if the Chicken did or didn’t cross the road?” Jung asked.

“The point is we don’t know without confirmed data. And I would consider the motivations of the average Chicken. Was the Chicken motivated to cross the road out of fear, like having some predator chasing it? Would an average Chicken be smart enough to try not crossing the road because it didn’t want to get hit by a passing vehicle. It’s about motivation, aided or hindered by intelligence levels and possibly conceptions of a reward, or punishment, for whatever choice is made,” Martha told everyone.

“She’s right,” Ivan told everyone, then added, “I used motivation as the prime in my research.”

“You taught a dog to think it was going to be feed, and think it was hungry, by ringing a bell, right?” Kant asked him.

“Simplified understanding, but yes, The dog was still motivated to respond for it’s reward.”

“And why is the question always posed while using a Chicken to cross the road?” Martha asked.

“Because fried Chicken tastes better than a fried rock,” Isaac Newton responded, followed by good natured laughter.

“That’s funny Fig, but why not use a Fox, a Deer or a Skunk?” Freud asked next.

“Seriously? The intelligence lever of a Chicken is near the bottom. So, why a Chicken? Why not a Duck?” Marie asked playfully, followed by the laughter of those who knew the classic comic reference from the Marx Brothers film.

“Back to the point, my collogues! Why are we even discussing this silly question?” Freud asked everyone.

“Because of your snide remark aimed at Kant,” Marie reminded him.

“This wine is nice,” Martha told everyone while hoping to change the subject, then added, “But I really prefer red wine over white wine.”

“We’ll drink to that,” Jung said, and raised his glass as a toast to his fellow collogues.

After everyone drank for the toast, Martha stood up to address them, but first focused on Maria.

“Marie, would you like to tell everyone what you know about me?

“That you are an expert in Behavioral Science. For awhile you were one of the more famous, more efficient investigators of your time. And cases you solved often appeared in major newspapers. Then you stepped out of the spotlight and basically disappeared from the public.”

“I started to long for having privacy again, so I retired, changed my last name and moved into a small town. Doing this afforded me the time to read, study and think. I read everything from your bios, accomplishments and often differing points of view. I also read everything I could on the subjects I had little knowledge, from topical to classical. And I chose that small town because I met and married a simple, unassuming and honest man named Earl and we got married. And for some reason just about everyone in that small town started calling me Aunt Martha.

“Interesting, and productive life you had, Martha,” Kant told her sincerely.

“Thank you, Immanuel, but I not in the same league with the rest of you.”

“Most modesty would be welcomed from the rest of you,” Marie told everyone. “From all of us.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being proud of your achievements. And there’s nothing wrong with using humor, from subtle to slapstick, to defuse challenging times and issues, but let pettiness and jealousy die out with our demise. All of you had so much to offer the world, and you can continue to offer more if you channel your knowledge and help and encourage each other. And you can still offer what you’ve learned to the still living,” Martha told everyone.

“How? As ghosts or some type of celestial apparitions?” Freud responded and it came across as mocking the last part of what Martha said.

“And what did Einstein mean, Sigmund, when he told you ‘God does not play dice with the universe’?”

“It meant he was probably drunk at the time,” Marie replied in just.

“I wasn’t drunk, and Albert told me this after I mentioned I had a sudden and unexplainable insight, call it a vision if you must, into the diverse, interwoven nature of life itself.”

“And I refuse to believe life itself came into existence because the universe farted,” Isaac added.

“Without the snide remarks, using humor, from subtle to slapstick, and other forms of harmless diversion, and merging it with serious insight and knowledge, is what you can still share with the world,” Martha told them, then added,“ I must be leaving soon.”

“Where too?” Marie asked her.

“To do my own direct, personal research into an unsolved mystery,” she told everyone, then morphed into a Chicken and disappeared in a cloud of vapor.

They watched as the vapor as the vapor dissipated and looked at each other.

“Well, it’s obvious that Chicken never had to worry about crossing the road, because she figured out how to fly over it,” Pavlov told the others, followed by good-natured laughter.

“I was joking,” Martha said after she suddenly reappeared.

“How do you that?” asked the befuddled Ivan.

“If the six of you pool your intelligence, you could consider it a form of Space-Time Continuum. Or not. Sometimes, in the learning process, it’s wise to trust your gut instincts. The point is, if a dullard like myself learned to do what I’ve done, and by saying dullard it means I’m pretty much self-taught, it should be easy enough for you six to figure it out. You can even figure out how to return to Earth. Not as yourself, of course, but you can still help influence those willing to make needed charges on the planet,” Martha told them, then she vaporized for the last time.