There is no deeper meaning here.

[Walking alongside the wall to find its meaning. Failing.]

Previously, the Wanderer’s bedroom had been rather spacious. Back then they hadn’t even been the Wanderer. But then one day they woke up and their bed was flush against a bare concrete wall. This had been the start of a lot of their problems, as their wardrobe was on the other side of this new wall, not to mention the bathroom. Seeing no other option they had got up, climbed out the window and set off to find the end of the wall, or at least a door.

This was how they became the Wanderer, as the wall was sizable and moving alongside it involved a lot of, well, wandering. It stretched off far enough that it disappeared from view over the horizon, cutting straight through anything in the way perfectly neatly and with no trace of any displaced or destroyed material at all. The Wanderer did have to admire the seamless construction of the concrete, even if its placement was annoying.

Different attempts to get around or go through the wall all met with failure. It was impossible to climb, its being sheer, smooth and a uniform height of many hundreds of feet. At one point the Wanderer procured a jackhammer and attempted to make a direct route for themselves. They did not get very far before the jackhammer broke, and while the damage to the wall was impressive it got them nowhere. So they kept walking.

Unbeknownst to the Wanderer of course, the wall had a purpose – beyond the obvious one of separating them from their wardrobe. This separation had merely been the nudge to get them moving, the message of the wall was the main point and purpose of its existence. Not that the Wanderer knew. From their position all they saw was concrete, which told them nothing. They still knew nothing of the meaning when their body finally gave in and they collapsed. They were still wearing their pajamas at the time, or what was left of them after all the wandering.

It was a question of perspective more than anything else. Things can look very different dependent on distance and angle, something the wall (being a wall) had failed to take into account. If one were to pull back from the scene of the Wanderer’s collapse and look at the whole of the wall from above – from a plane, say, or ideally a satellite – and if it happened to be a clear day the message would have been clear.

“Nobody cares what you think,” the wall spelled out, in letters that spanned nations.

The Wanderer had keeled over somewhere near the top of the first ‘N’.In fairness, their odds of ever grasping the full sentence had never been good to start with. Their death worsened the odds further, and it was unlikely they would ever now understand what it was the walls had been trying to tell them. How the wall felt about this was unclear, but given the wall this was to be expected.

Then again, the likelihood of the Wanderer taking the message on board even if they had somehow managed to work it out had been slim anyway. The wall had been far too hopeful, to the extent of being laughably naive and it had failed in its efforts at communication. But that was life.

In the end, nothing of value was lost.



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