Every Day

An Iron Age Media Prompt - “The Crag“

Every day starts that same.

I get up and I get to work. I pick up every rock and arrange it in ascending order of size and every evening I scatter the rocks around the island for the next day. It is hard work. Some of these rocks are quite heavy, in fact, calling them rocks may be a misnomer as some of the larger rocks could perhaps better be classified as boulders.     

It wasn’t always like this, me starting to question or analyze things.

Several years ago, a young woman approached me. Her small ship and its sparse crew were but a small speck in the background. I did not notice her at first as I was preoccupied with the day’s rock arrangement. I was making good time; I was fortunate enough that all the heavy rocks ended up near the pillars in front of which they were to be placed.

What are you doing?

“I am arranging the rocks in ascending order of size.”

Why?

“What do you mean, why? Every day I arrange the rocks in ascending order.”

I mean, why would you do that?

“I…I don’t know.”

Also wait, what do you mean every day you arrange the rocks in size order? That is a one-time task. Rocks don’t move.

“Oh, that’s simple, I know that one. Every evening I scatter the rocks around this island.”

What?

“Every evening-“

I heard you; I don’t understand why you would do that.

“It is what I do.”

Did someone tell you to do this?

“I believe so, it’s been so long, I can’t quite remember.”

Is there anyone else on this island?

“It is just me most days. You are the first visitor to the island in, oh I’d say about five years.”

Did it ever occur to you that this is a wholly pointless task? No one sees the rocks and putting the rocks back only makes more work for you.

“I…every day I-“

I know, I know! Every day you arrange the rocks in ascending order of size. What are you, exactly?

“What are you?”

I’m a human. A human female.

“Am I human?”

Do you eat or sleep?

“No”

Do you feel pain?

“I don’t think so?”

What happens if you don’t rearrange or scatter the rocks one day?

“I do not know. I have never tried. I have rearranged and scattered the rocks every day of my life.”

How long have you been here?

“What year is it?”

1523. What year did you arrive here?

“I do not know.”

Have you always lived here?

“Yes. I mean, I think so. It has been so many years, I do not remember much. Why are you here?”

We sail for undiscovered and unclaimed land. Ideally land rich with treasure or valuable resources.

“Are rocks valuable resources?”

No. Do you have any gold here?

“What is gold?”

It’s like a rock but shiny and extremely valuable.

“There is no gold here.”

I can’t believe it.

“I can show you the rocks.”

No, that’s not what I meant. While disappointing, I am capable of understanding why an island in the middle of nowhere would not have gold on it. I cannot believe you are here doing the same, extremely pointless, thing every day for who knows how long. It sounds like punishment or torture.

“Punishment?”

When you do something bad, sometimes you get punished for it. It’s like a bad thing happening to you because you did something bad.

“Am I bad?”

In a strange sense, I certainly hope so because no good or even half-decent person or being should have to endure this. Look we’re going to grab some fruit from the trees and then set sail again. Do you want to come with us?

“If I left the island, who would arrange the rocks?”

Forget the rocks, this task you perform is stupid and you should leave the island.

“Every day I-“

Forget it, you’re as hopeless as your situation. We’re out of here. Good luck.

I don’t understand, this rock has been the same size, save for slight erosion, for years now but these days it feels heavier. The path from this rock to the pillars, despite the fact that I have carried it much further distances previously, now never seems to end. With every step I take, I feel the weight of the boulder pushing down hard on my body.

That woman is right, this job is stupid. I only have two more rocks I need to move before the sun finishes setting. What if I just didn’t though? I worry what would happen to me if I do, though. Was I born here or sent here? Why am I doing this? Who told me to do it in the first place? I don’t understand any of this. Things used to be simple. Now I feel like I know nothing. And why smallest to largest, how could that possibly be any different than largest to smallest?

I have to hurry up and decide, the sun has almost finished setting and the last two rocks are still not in their places. What if the island sinks? What if arranging these rocks is the only thing keeping the sun rising and setting each day? There has to be a reason I do this. Just because I do not know what the purpose is, that does not mean that there is not a purpose. The last glimpses of the sun are starting to fade, here goes nothing.

“ARGHGHGHGHHHGHGH!!!”

I do not know how to describe what just happened but I would love to not experience that again. It felt like my body was being torn apart. What was that? I need to sit down. How long did that tearing last? It felt like years but I didn’t see the sun rise again so it couldn’t have been that long.  

The timing of whatever just happened to me did seem to coincide with the setting of the sun. Was it because of the rocks? I need to finish the arrangement and hurry to scatter the rocks before sunrise. What was it that women called this, torture? I get the impression that the torture is just now beginning.