Listen to me. Listen to me! All of you think I am insane. But I am not insane. Nothing I did was insane. If you were me, you would have done exactly as I have.
The Roman Court has sentenced me here, and has done so unjustly. I have done nothing wrong. I have done nothing wrong! Will anyone believe me?
Listen as I tell my tale. No one has. No one believes me. They think I am mad--but I know I am not mad!
When Caesar conquered Gaul, I was one of them. I remember my life before my servitude very poorly, for it hardly matters to me right now. Nothing from the past is ever used in the present. I was sent to a Roman farm, where there was not a face I knew, but there were new ones I had to become used to. There was no use for the past.
Every day, I worked. How many years did I work? What was a year, anyway?
I must have worked for quite a while. Every day, I worked. I worked hard, and I worked long. Every day was every other day. When the sun shone over my head we would work harder, because if we stopped, then they would whip us and it would hurt. It would hurt, and because of this we were never weak, and would never let ourselves feel weak, because it hurt to be weak.
Everything stayed the same. We would work all day. Did I ever think? We would work all day, and we were never weak. We were never tired.
We were never tired. Was I tired? Where was I? We were never tired. We worked and worked, and I was tired! But no one else seemed tired, and so I was not tired.
We worked and worked, and a bull ran over me. One day, we were working, and they marched on, and my arm was crushed, and I was alone!
My arm was in pain! And they went on, tilling the Earth without me.
When I cried and screamed for them, they stopped. What were they hearing? What sound was that?
It could not be real. It must have been deceiving them. They could not understand my cries and worked away.
My red blood spilled onto the grey ground. It made a small puddle, and I saw a man within. Was he I? What was I? His hair was fading and clumped as his eyes were broken, and his skin cried that he seemed so pathetic -- that I turned away and screamed!
How pathetic was I! How lonely was I! Once, I was with others, and I disappeared, but I could disappear no longer.
I was bleeding, and my skin was red with my blood. My skin was grey no longer. But the world was grey and marched on without me.
I approached them. "Help me!" I cried. But they ignored my cries.
I cried louder. "Help me!" They turned, startled.
"Help me! I have a shattered arm. See here - only the shoulder remains." But they turned their heads away.
I motioned helplessly with my other hand. But they did not talk to me. I yelled and screamed at everyone. They glanced at me.
Did they think me insane? I was not insane. What did they see when they saw the one-armed man? Am I alive? I must be alive. How can a man have one arm? But they cared not for me because I was not one of them anymore.
They looked the same as they had five years ago. They were a legion of blank faces, startled only by my bloody stump of an arm. They were scared when they were startled. But they were ashamed of being scared.
I was alone! No one could understand me. They were all too grey and plain, and I was the only red one. The world was a place of farmers, and the farmers farmed. What was I doing, bleeding and screaming as I was?
They stared at me and were afraid of me. But then, they ignored me. Was there anything else to them? Did they scream? Did they laugh or cry? Were they ever changing?
This was all there was in the world. All it was, and it was pale, grey, and empty! There was nothing for me here. There was nothing! There was no me here, and they rejected me, and shunned me, as I descended downwards and all seemed hollow to me -- and I felt a little stone under my foot. I picked it up, and it grew a mouth and spoke to me.
It was a colorful stone. Its mouth moved and commanded me. "I am the supreme stone. I am the creator of all values. I am he who guides, and he who makes meaning out of chaos. I am you and nothing and everything. Everything I say is true. Your life is wretched. There is no meaning in your world. No one knows the truth but you, and you live in a world as horrible as the rest of them. But if you do everything I command you to do, your life will become better. Will you obey me now, for the rest of time?"
I wanted to believe. It was a lurid thing, and it knew me! "Yes!"
It spoke. "Now, dance!" And I danced.
The farmers saw me. They were shocked. They broke. "What on Earth are you doing? Are you mad? You must be mad. There is nothing in the world like you. Everything stays the same, but you are different from everything. What! Go away! You fill my life with too many questions. I do not want to see anything as wretched as you. The world was plainer and cleaner. Go!"
I told them, "What are you saying? None of you know anything. All of your lives are meaningless. You never change. There is no value in this world. Nothing changes. You work and work, and every day is the same. The stone is above the world! I am chaos! I am sane. None of you understand why I dance. Hear the stone speak: it talks and speaks to me all the value in the world."
What was I saying? I spoke, and I sobbed a little. But I was sane. I know I am sane. I must be sane. I must be sane! I must convince someone that I am sane. And if I am sane, I am the only sane one.
Now they have arrested me. Now they have locked me up and brought me here, and have declared me insane. But I am not insane. Believe me! How can you lock me up here, in this illusion? I am deprived. Someone! Let me out! Let me out!
