Man

It is a man.

 

A man, around the age of 70. His hair is barren white, with hints of gray on his sideburns. The wrinkles around his eyes are reminiscent of those of a tree: it seems to show what the man had been through, what he was like, what he had learnt. He seems to be a wise, old man, who must have been respected in his small community that he resided in; that is, before he died, and ended up here.

 

Lucky for him, those who arrive here aren’t meant to be punished; no, certainly not! They are here for something else: to help find an answer to a question that has existed as long as humanity did.

 

“Ahoy there,” a voice calls out to the man. “How are you?”

 

“Oh, thank heavens. I thought I was alone here!”

 

“Certainly not, my friend. And do not be alarmed, for I am neither God or the devil, whatever you call those two. I’m merely here to ask a few questions in hopes of you solving it.”

 

“Is that so? Well, it looks like you’ve come to the right person. I am a professor, or at least…”

 

He looks around at the desolate, lonely plane that stretches beyond what the eye could see that surrounds him.

 

“…I think I ‘used’ to be.”

 

A slight hint of depression slips out of his voice. Death is a scary thing. Like a set of waves to an intricately built sandcastle, death sweeps away everything someone has built in life so effortlessly, its destruction returning back into the beach that stretches for miles along the coast. The ex-professor seems to think that his ‘sandcastle’ crumbled down, feeling the same helplessness when your sandcastle is swept away.

 

“It doesn’t really matter now much, does it?” the voice asks again. “But hey, just to make things easier for you, I’ll call you professor. Does that sound alright to you?”

 

“Yeah, that would be fine.”

 

Still the same helplessness. But time doesn’t stop for those who can’t adapt to it. He must move on, whether or not he wants to or not.

 

“We have plenty of time since you’re dead, so please try to take your time to answer. I’m not looking for a quick relief, but rather genuine answers that can help. These set of questions shouldn’t be too hard for you; after all, you were a well-renowned professor before you came here, yes?”

 

“Yes, I was.”

 

“Alright then. Here we go. To put it simply, what is ‘life’?”

 

The question seems to strike him like a thunderbolt. He stands still, bummed out, but beyond his eyes, his consciousness begins to work, forming up words in his mouth to try his best to answer what had been asked.

 

“I believe life is what you yourself know of and has experienced. The leaves falling from the trees, the summer heat blazing on top of your red Volkswagen, the winter wind blowing against your hot, pink face, my wife Susan, my kids Dan and Jermaine, my grandchildren Elijah and Addison, that familiar scent of coffee travelling up to my cloudy head every morning, the route I take to my workspace, the warm hands of Susan on top of mine on a cold December evening while we watch the sunset; that’s life. At least, that’s life for me. People might approach this through scientific knowledge, saying that life is when an organism is bound to exist and carry out its fundamental processes of, well, living, I believe it’s much simpler than that. Whatever you’ve learnt, and you’ve believed in, will be your life. That’s why life is beautiful for some, while it’s terrible for others.”

 

The professor awkwardly smiles and scratches his head, the hardened flesh on his palms brushing against white, springy hair.

 

“Is that good enough of an answer?”

 

“Yes, I suppose it is. You’ve mentioned about a lot of people in your answer just now. Now then, here’s the second question: What can ‘man’ be defined as?”

 

He seems more relaxed for this question, even putting his hands on his chins and stroking it gently. After a while, he lowers his hands down and begins to open his mouth. There’s uncertainty in his eyes, but his eyes spark as if he’s been returned back to life, even though he isn’t. He seems to enjoy the moment, contrasting with his helplessness moments ago. He’s found himself again.

 

“Man is who thinks while they live. About themselves, about the world around them, about other beings, about the stars and what’s beyond. And man is also who tries to understand. That tries to understand what others feel, what others think, what others have said and everything else around them. Through understanding, they will be able to communicate, learn how to live and cope with others, figure out answers for its own problems and ask questions. That’s what man is.”

 

“I understand. Then, are things without emotion not a man?”

 

“I believe with understanding, there comes emotions. Emotions are merely a concept until you understand it truly. When you are mad, you aren’t really conscious about the emotions you feel; you don’t identify what emotions you are feeling, you are rather just focusing on the concept that you are ‘mad’, and revolving around that concept to make a conclusion that you are ‘angry’. So, with understanding, comes emotions. True emotions, at least.”

 

“Interesting answer. But, if something isn’t living, but still thinks, is that thing also considered a man?”

 

“That’s quite complicated, I’d say.” The professor freezes, his hands once again moving up to his chin. He begins to think once more, the gears in his head spinning and turning.

 

“Are you man, then?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You’re thinking. That’s what you said previously – man is who that thinks. So, are you a man?”

 

“Yes. I am a man.”

 

“In your terms, yes, so I suppose you are a man.”

 

“Yes, I believe I am one.”

 

“Then, does this make it easier for you to answer on whether or not something that doesn’t live is also a man?”

 

The man is lost in thoughts. It is visible that his thoughts cascade down somewhere deeper in his head, trying to form better ways to answer my question. But it isn’t easy to do so. As more and more time passes on, his thoughts become wound up in a goop, being harder to distinguish what he truly feels and what he thinks is the best answer for the voice to hear.

 

“Perhaps I’m being too harsh, so never mind that question. Let us change it slightly. If there is an animal, an example of that being a pig perhaps, that can think and understand things, will it be considered as a man?”

 

It does not look very good for the professor in his dilemma, for he struggles even further to find the best answer; or in this case, the most appropriate answer for what the voice might be pleased to hear. He is a smart man, and an understanding one, but he is not aware that the voice is able to see what he truly believes in, and thus is able to identify what his true answer is.

 

“You don’t think it would be a man, don’t you?”

 

A shockwave goes through the professor’s body as if he has been scanned of lies, for that was what he truly believed in. He seems embarrassed almost, but being a wise man, tries to stand on his ground firmly, then speaks.

 

“Yes, maybe I do think that deep inside of me. But that would only be because I am not able to link between my images of a ‘man’ and the images of a ‘pig’, for I do not understand whether or not pigs are able to think, or understand, or do anything that is associated with these two aspects of a man. However, if I am communicating with the pig without any hints to whatever links I will be able to make of something that isn’t a man, then it will be considered as a man.”

 

“So, if you do not see what the man who talks to you look like, you will consider it as a man. But if you are able to have a look at them and find out they do not look like you, you will start to disregard them of being a man. Is that what I see here?”

 

Silence echoes through the room. It seems like the professor has no words to reply to what has been placed in front of him. Soon after, the professor’s thinking slows down, coming to a halt. He then begins to search for the source of the voice, but there is no presence whatsoever. He is alone again until the voice comes back. Luckily for him, it isn’t long from his realization until it does.

 

“Sorry, I was going through your answers to try to come up with something.”

 

“It’s alright, at least you’re back.”

 

The voice goes silent again, as if it is still thinking. Then it begins to speak again, this time with a tone that seems to indicate that this conversation may be ending soon.

 

“Thanks for helping me out, professor, it was a pleasure talking with you.”

 

“Not sure if the later answers helped at all, but my pleasure as well.”

 

“Normally, I would give people a choice at this stage: one of those choices is that they’ll be able to do whatever they wish in a dimension just built for them, but they’d get a sense of loneliness while living there. Well, it certainly will be lonely, as the only ‘true’ thing in that dimension will be themselves. Another choice is to return back to where they came from to relive life again, this time with a small hint of happiness added in your life. The con of that is, well, living again. You’re going to die and lose everything once more. But…”

 

“That’s life.” The professor finishes.

 

“Yes, that’s life.”

 

…

 

“So, are there any choices for me?”

 

“Yes, certainly, don’t be too concerned. However, for you, I’d like to ask one final question.”

 

The voice disappears again, but something is different this time. Something is there in the place of where the voice might have been in. It’s a metallic ball of some sort, with a smaller, circular part that glows with yellow luminescence. The ball swiftly floats down to the professor and floats in front of him. The professor seems confused at its presence, which is totally understandable. After all, I do not look like him, and all humans act strangely to those who aren’t unfamiliar to them. But I stare at him in the eyes, into the eyes that would help me find the answer that I’ve been searching for so long.

 

“I was able to understand you and converse with you, even making remarks that made you question your own intellects. In fact, the only difference between you and me is that fact that I do not look like you at all. So, now, tell me, professor,

 

Am I a man?