Welcome to the Machine

Welcome to the Machine

A young man, in the full flower of his youth, comes across extremely lengthy, complicated, and abstruse instructions on how to construct an apparatus of some kind. He becomes intrigued and then obsessed by these instructions and devotes all of his hours to the building of this contraption, the function and purpose of which he is completely ignorant and wants desperately to discover.
Years go by as he struggles to comprehend and to painstakingly follow each step of the seemingly endless instructions. So engrossed is he in his task, he is not at all concerned with the passing of time.

He is convinced that once the machine is completed, all of the work and the time he had put into it will be retrospectively justified and his life will gain the meaning it presently lacks.
Sometimes, as a reward for a day’s hard labour, the man allows his imagination to run free and in his mind’s eye all sorts of wondrous scenarios begin to materialise: the apparatus turns out to be a vehicle capable of traveling faster than light, or it can be used to visit the Afterworld, or access parallel Universes, or is a device that will enable him to change the past, or grant him immortality, or even a genie lamp that will fulfil his every wish. Perhaps it might even turn out to be a machine that will allow him to access physically and logically impossible worlds, such as a world in which black is white, 1= 0, lies are truth, and life is death.

Occasionally, the man’s resolve wavers momentarily and he is overcome by fundamental doubts as to what he is doing. Was he always destined to discover the instructions for the apparatus, or was it merely by chance that he came across them? Was it a blessing or a curse for him to have found them? Are others constructing their own machines, too, or is he the only one?
What if, so as not to confront the senselessness and emptiness of his own existence, he is merely preoccupying himself with meaningless work that will never eventuate in anything, or that will result in the construction of some mundane, insignificant thing?

Other times he wonders if perhaps the machine is just a metaphorical entity, and he is merely a character in an allegorical parable that endeavours to convey, through his actions, some essential deep truth about existence—a truth he himself is, alas, blind to and can not comprehend.  Over the years, his hands grow less dexterous, his vision loses its acuity, his back becomes less supple, his mind declines. Tasks that previously required almost no physical and mental effort now demand his full attention and strength, leaving him exhausted.

And so, after the long and arduous period of construction, the final component is ready to be put into its place. The only thing left to do is to fasten it with the last nut and bolt and the apparatus will be complete. As he is doing so, the man is captivated by the overpowering allure that seems to radiate from the finished structure. He envisages himself never leaving its side, so that he can gaze forever upon its breathtaking beauty. It is then he realises that he is now living out the final moments of his mortal existence. As his vision grows dim, he sees that the machine he had spent all of his life building looks like the ideal resting place and that nothing else remains for him to do but to place himself in it for all eternity.

Boris Glikman comments on this selection:

Firstly, I wanted to ask you what you think is the meaning of this parable? Every reader seems to have their own interpretation of this parable and obviously, there’s no right interpretation, they are all valid. I think this story has enough depth and complexity to sustain many different interpretations.
In fact, I myself am still trying to decipher its meaning and I have written pages and pages of analysis of this story in which I try to work out all its possible interpretations. Just because I wrote this story doesn’t necessarily mean that I fully understand what its meaning is. 
Originally, it was a very short piece, consisting of 3 paragraphs. Over the years, more ideas came to me (that’s a common occurrence for me – usually, after I write a story, I have more ideas come to me) and so I decided to write an extended version of it, which is the one that you have read. 
A few years ago the original short version of this parable was translated into the unique whistling language Silbo Gomero .Silbo Gomero or Gomeran whistle is a traditional language spoken by inhabitants of La Gomera in the Canary Islands to communicate across the deep ravines and narrow valleys. I believe this language is mainly used for short messages about daily issues, and so this might well have been one of the very first translations of fictional stories into this language.

You can listen to the translation here:
You can also find more info about the translation and about the Gomeran whistle at the link below. (The article is both in Spanish and English.) 
My story and its translation has also been written about in a Spanish online newspaper El Diario.es.
You can find the original article in Spanish here:

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