The Decline
The sky was dark and grew darker as heavy clouds moved in. The clouds were angry and they pushed and shoved and crowded one another until there was no more room and there was nothing left to do but rain. The rain started quickly, leaving ill-prepared pedestrians nothing to do but draw their coats closer and hold their briefcases and newspapers over their heads for protection while they sought out the nearest overhang or doorway for shelter.
Two such men were walking home from work together and – the storm having interrupted their animated conversation – they ducked into a restaurant and took seats at the bar. They shook their coats to rid them of the wetness and ordered drinks – one stout, one scotch – before resuming their conversation.
“Clearly, something must be done,” said one of the men, sipping his scotch.
“Yes, clearly,” said the other. “But what? One must tread carefully in this situation. The slightest misstep…” He paused to sniff at his beer. “Well, you know what could happen.”
“You don’t have to tell me the possible repercussions. Regardless, action must be taken. If things continue as they stand, we will be finished. The downward spiral we are currently traveling will take us to God only knows what depths. This cannot be allowed to happen.” He sipped his scotch again and studied the lines in the wooden bar as his companion spoke.
“But perhaps it is too late. Perhaps this downward spiral is irreversible. Perhaps the only thing we can do is stop the bleeding. Perhaps entropy has already taken hold.” His face grew dark as he said this. An ominous look appeared in his eyes.
“What do you mean by that?” the first man asked, a confused look on his face.
“I mean entropy – the tendency of all things towards chaos. We can only fight against the decline for so long before we can do no more. Perhaps it is time to let things run their course.”
The confused look on the first man’s face turned to surprise.
“Are you suggesting we give up? Do nothing? I cannot give up. It is against my nature; against human nature. Entropy, bah. If your theory is true, there would be no such thing as progress. This is obviously not the case. Things don’t fall apart, they just change.”
“You are right; human nature is to fight entropy. But death is also human nature. Death is the essence of human nature. Death is not progress, it is an end. Nothing you do can stop it. The wood that made this bar, that you were studying so intently earlier, was once a living thing. It gestated from a seed and grew big and strong. Then it was cut down. What remains will eventually rot away. This building, too, will fall apart; the mortar will grow weak with time and the bricks will crumble slowly. It may not be obvious, but it will happen. And you and I will walk by one day and wonder how such a magnificent structure could have wasted away. This is your progress, your change. Progress is nothing but an attempt to combat entropy. Wooden structures were replaced by brick and mortar which was replaced by iron and steel, each one able to last a little longer in the fight against decay. But the decline is inevitable.”
With this, he finished his beer and motioned the bartender for another. He looked back at his friend, who was becoming slightly agitated, his nostrils flaring slightly. The first man took a moment to process what he had just heard. Then he too finished his drink and ordered another, then began to speak.
“True, there is decay and decline. But there is a cycle to things. Day decays into night, then night becomes day again. A tree dies and decays into soil which fertilizes new trees. Cities and civilizations fall apart and new ones are built on top of the remains. Governments collapse and new ones take their place. Everything has a cycle. Even death is part of the cycle of life.”
“And what follows death in the cycle of life?” the other man replied. “Need I remind you that the phoenix is but a mythical creature? We won’t incinerate and be reborn from the ashes. When we die, that is it. Like trees, our bodies decay and become fertilizer. But not fertilizer for new people, only fertilizer for plants, food for worms.”
The first man shook his head. “You’re depressing me,” he said. “Look, let me buy a round and we’ll go home and hopefully you’ll sleep off this absurdly depressing outlook. Agreed?”
The second man nodded his head softly, with a defeated look on his face. The two men had their drinks and parted ways outside.
The next day, the first man arrived at the office early, intending to finish up some paperwork. He went by his friend’s office to see if he was in yet. As he rounded the corner, he saw the feet, then the torso of his friend hovering above the ground. There was a note on the door that said simply: “I couldn’t fight entropy any longer. I go now to feed the worms.”
Two such men were walking home from work together and – the storm having interrupted their animated conversation – they ducked into a restaurant and took seats at the bar. They shook their coats to rid them of the wetness and ordered drinks – one stout, one scotch – before resuming their conversation.
“Clearly, something must be done,” said one of the men, sipping his scotch.
“Yes, clearly,” said the other. “But what? One must tread carefully in this situation. The slightest misstep…” He paused to sniff at his beer. “Well, you know what could happen.”
“You don’t have to tell me the possible repercussions. Regardless, action must be taken. If things continue as they stand, we will be finished. The downward spiral we are currently traveling will take us to God only knows what depths. This cannot be allowed to happen.” He sipped his scotch again and studied the lines in the wooden bar as his companion spoke.
“But perhaps it is too late. Perhaps this downward spiral is irreversible. Perhaps the only thing we can do is stop the bleeding. Perhaps entropy has already taken hold.” His face grew dark as he said this. An ominous look appeared in his eyes.
“What do you mean by that?” the first man asked, a confused look on his face.
“I mean entropy – the tendency of all things towards chaos. We can only fight against the decline for so long before we can do no more. Perhaps it is time to let things run their course.”
The confused look on the first man’s face turned to surprise.
“Are you suggesting we give up? Do nothing? I cannot give up. It is against my nature; against human nature. Entropy, bah. If your theory is true, there would be no such thing as progress. This is obviously not the case. Things don’t fall apart, they just change.”
“You are right; human nature is to fight entropy. But death is also human nature. Death is the essence of human nature. Death is not progress, it is an end. Nothing you do can stop it. The wood that made this bar, that you were studying so intently earlier, was once a living thing. It gestated from a seed and grew big and strong. Then it was cut down. What remains will eventually rot away. This building, too, will fall apart; the mortar will grow weak with time and the bricks will crumble slowly. It may not be obvious, but it will happen. And you and I will walk by one day and wonder how such a magnificent structure could have wasted away. This is your progress, your change. Progress is nothing but an attempt to combat entropy. Wooden structures were replaced by brick and mortar which was replaced by iron and steel, each one able to last a little longer in the fight against decay. But the decline is inevitable.”
With this, he finished his beer and motioned the bartender for another. He looked back at his friend, who was becoming slightly agitated, his nostrils flaring slightly. The first man took a moment to process what he had just heard. Then he too finished his drink and ordered another, then began to speak.
“True, there is decay and decline. But there is a cycle to things. Day decays into night, then night becomes day again. A tree dies and decays into soil which fertilizes new trees. Cities and civilizations fall apart and new ones are built on top of the remains. Governments collapse and new ones take their place. Everything has a cycle. Even death is part of the cycle of life.”
“And what follows death in the cycle of life?” the other man replied. “Need I remind you that the phoenix is but a mythical creature? We won’t incinerate and be reborn from the ashes. When we die, that is it. Like trees, our bodies decay and become fertilizer. But not fertilizer for new people, only fertilizer for plants, food for worms.”
The first man shook his head. “You’re depressing me,” he said. “Look, let me buy a round and we’ll go home and hopefully you’ll sleep off this absurdly depressing outlook. Agreed?”
The second man nodded his head softly, with a defeated look on his face. The two men had their drinks and parted ways outside.
The next day, the first man arrived at the office early, intending to finish up some paperwork. He went by his friend’s office to see if he was in yet. As he rounded the corner, he saw the feet, then the torso of his friend hovering above the ground. There was a note on the door that said simply: “I couldn’t fight entropy any longer. I go now to feed the worms.”
posted by Jonathan McGee at 2:19 PM
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