No Matter What

The bell was ringing, ding, ding, urgently, swinging, braying, come home, come home, save us all, when Jared finished the last furrow. He wiped the sweat from his face, lifted the plow and carried it beneath a tree. No matter what fire was burning, good iron was sorely wasted.

His muscles shook as he stumbled into a trot, then full run. What could be the matter?

A crowd gathered round the village square when he arrived out of breath. He pushed closer, smelling the pungent tang of smoke. Fire? Mid-day? 104 out at least?

People edged away readily before his elbows. Then he saw it. A hole. The hole went clear through the pavement, down through dirt, down, down, way beyond where light would reach.

Jared grabbed his brother's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Didn't you see it? Burning ember the size of my hat came barreling down from the sky."

Jared scratched his head. "What's all the bother about? Did someone get hurt?"

His brother shrugged. Everyone looked at their neighbor, mentally counting heads. The consensus seemed to be that no one was missing.

Jared shook his head and turned away. "I don't have time for this, I have a field to plant."

"Well, someone could get hurt." Yeah, yeah, yeah went around the village.

Jared raised both hands in defeat. "Okay, we should cover the hole."

"Fill it in first, I think." Yeah, yeah, yeah went around the circle of faces so Jared agreed. "What a bunch of bother about nothing. I'll bring a load of rock in after I finish plowing." Me, too, others agreed and that finally was the end of the whole thing. Or so Jared thought.

Next day, noon, the darn bell started dinging again. Jared sighed and grabbed the wheelbarrow and pushed it before him, running at a trot. "What's happened now?"

Everyone moved aside and there, close to the previous partially filled hole, another hole smoked its last tendrils of heat into the sky. "The God's are angry with us," an elderly woman cried, making the sign of the cross. "Fiddlesticks," a chubby man responded.

"And who are you?" Jared asked.

"I'm Professor Nudle, from the U. The Mayor asked me to take a look."

"Well, what's the matter?" Jared asked. "Why are these meteorites hitting our town."

"Technically, " Professor Nudle lifted his pants up over his belly, "no matter, or anti-matter. Nothing else would cut through the earth quite this way."

"Yeah? So what do we do about them?" Jared lifted his pants up too, and snicked his belt tight.

Professor Nudle smiled. "Good question. I'll take some samples and do a study, too, but I'm going to need grant money to cover costs."

Jared groaned, thinking, how's that going to get my fields plowed and planted. "Why? You think you'll have a solution? Someone could get hurt."

"Yeah, someone could get hurt", went around the circle and everyone handed over a $20 bill.

Jared did likewise, but decided on one more try. "Any helpful hints in the meantime?"

Professor Nudle stuffed the money into his pockets. "Well, someone ought to fill these holes in, someone could get hurt."

Jared shook his head. "You going to help with that?"

Professor Nudle lay a hand on his chest. "Who me? I don't know how to work with my hands. It's all in the head, boy."

The crowd nodded approvingly and agreed that they'd carry wheelbarrows of rock to fill in the hole after each turn in the fields. Jared sighed and thought that was the end of it.

Not so. Next day, plowing his field, here come's the bells ring-ding-dinging even more frantic than before though it was likely just his imagination. This time he just ignored it, realizing it probably meant another hole had appeared in the town square. Way he figured it, he was money ahead to just do his work and save the energy for hauling in more rock.

Sure enough, when he arrived hear nightfall, another hole speared their lovely town square and a crowd sat arguing about whether or not the God's were angry or something could be done. Shaking his head, Jared
shook his fist. "C'mon people, don't just stand here pondering why our life is being destroyed bit by bit. No matter what, the show must go on. If you don't get your fields plowed, you're going to starve just because no one can reason with the Gods."

Professor Nudle pushed himself clear of the crowd. "Say, Mr. Jared. That's a good point. Maybe we should go try. Take a bit of money..."

Jared rolled his eyes. "I suppose now you'll want me to fetch a pile of rocks to fill those darn black holes before they get here."

Professor Nudle beamed and lurched forward and back on his toes. "Now there's an idea. Great. SImply great. I'll propose it to the committee. I may just make a scientist of you, yet."

Jared dumped his load of rocks with a laugh, thinking, this can't be real. The statistical probability of any more antimatter showing up in his backyard had to be so unlikely, the whole thing would likely be over and die down.

Not so. Next day two villagers got hit by one of those black holes and the lawmakers shoved through emergency funding. And that was how Jared found himself doing a whole lot more work and becoming the nation's first astronaut. Someone had to do it and that someone was him.

SO, to make a long story short, sometime about the return trip from finding out the wonders of the universe and hauling a whole lot of rock, Jared became really wise. You know, Jared. It seems to me, the person that keeps asking all the questions, meaning you, ends up doing a whole lot of work. Maybe you should keep quiet next time. Perhaps the villagers struggling to pay off their extra taxes figured it out too. Because next time a black hole hit their town square, no one rang the bell. And that's how Jared fell into a whole lot of nothing mattering what, causing the story to end rather abruptly.

Sheri Fresonke Harper