For a very long time, indeed, reality as we know it lay hidden at the bottom of an old cloth bag, amidst a few pebbles, some beads, several purple sea shells, and one or two pieces of debris. Then, one day, a tall man in a three-piece pinstripe suit arrived at the foot of a snow-covered mountain in a land far from his home. “Which way to the wise man?” he asked one of the locals.
The old crone looked him up and down and smiled. Then she pointed upwards toward the mountaintop. “Wise guy,” she cackled.
“Huh?” He frowned, perplexed.
“He’s not really a man yet… He’s just twelve.”
“Oh?” The man was surprised. The article he had read in the Universal Cosmologic said nothing about the person’s age. “So this wise guy’s up there?”
“Yes, about three days journey on foot.”
“And by bus?”
“There is no bus.”
“No taxi, no train, no aeroplane, no beam me up Scotty… Just on foot… You can hire a yak to carry your luggage…” She looked at his crocodile skin briefcase. “But between me and you, they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Thank you,” said the man and took the path that wound up the side of the mountain. After two days of steady climbing, his patent leather shoes were dirty, and his socks were squelchy. His suit had lost its freshly pressed look, and he despaired of making a good impression on the wise guy. But he forged ahead bravely. Occasionally he stopped to dine on the contents of his briefcase: Dried fruit and cheese, bottled spring water, and a colourful collection of vitamin pills.
continued at: http://gopal.ramasammy-cook.net/reality-02/