The Devil's in the Details

 

 

The weight of recent events pressed down on Sophie like a heavy blanket. Brian wasn't making things any easier for her as she struggled to get a word in.

 

"I agree.... Well, if you—... That's not exactly fair." Her brow furrowed. "Yes.... Not really.... I'm sorry you feel that w—... Yes, OK, you too. Bye."

 

After the line fell silent, Sophie continued holding the phone to her ear, listening to the emptiness. She slumped deeper into her chair. 

 

First, my doctoral thesis proposal, the product of a year's hard work, gets rejected. Then my landlord hits me with a month's notice that he is selling and I need to find a new apartment. And now, my boyfriend of 18 months has just informed me he'd prefer if we went back to being "just friends". What have I done to bring the wrath of the gods down upon myself? Why does it seem like things are spinning out of control? Who can I turn to now for help making sense of this mess? Sophie didn't notice she'd spoken the last sentence aloud.

 

The lights dimmed for a second.

 

"Those are good questions."

 

The phone clattered to the floor as Sophie spun in her chair. Her eyes fell upon the neatly dressed older gentleman sitting a few feet away at the foot of her bed: "Who are y...you, and how did you get in here? What do you w...want?"

"My name is Mephisto. You sent for me. I'm here to help you."

Whether it was the man's immaculate grooming, his pleasant, soft voice, or some reason she couldn't identify, much of Sophie's initial panic faded. "How can you help me? And what's it going to cost?"

"My fee is nothing you can't afford, we can discuss that later. You are feeling lost. You don't understand what is happening in your life. You feel like you are not master of your own ship and want to regain control. I can show you, tonight, how to achieve what it is you seek. I can give you what you need."

"And what might that be?"

"Knowledge." Mephisto's eyes almost seemed to shine as he said the word.

"I've spent the last six years gaining so much knowledge my head hurts, and look where it's got me!" There was annoyance and bitterness in Sophie's response.

"Ah, but you have been seeking the wrong sort of knowledge. There are basically two kinds: knowledge of things, like science, or history, or art, and knowledge of people. The first, which has been your focus, can only get us so far. We can perform certain tasks and achieve certain goals, and that's where it ends. But the second kind can take us far beyond those limits. You see, knowledge of people is power, and that brings control. We are no longer continually on the defensive, with our destiny at the mercy of others."

Sophie lowered her eyes. "But I'm not that person. I have no desire to control others. I'm not interested in having power over anyone. I just want to untangle this unholy mess that is my life."

"And that is why," Mephisto said softly but firmly, "the person about whom you must gain knowledge is ... yourself. You can't have dominion over your own life until you understand its purpose. Why are you here? What is the reason for your being? When you can answer these questions, you will gain focus and direction. It's not about gaining power over others — that's for monarchs and despots. It's finding your own path and following it. You must use knowledge as a tool to cut through the randomness and complexity and bring clarity. Then you will have the power to organise your life and determine your own fate."

"How can I gain this knowledge?" Curiosity was taking over from annoyance.

"By using this gift I have brought for you." Mephisto reached into a small bag at his feet that Sophie had not previously noticed, and produced a rectangular box, about nine inches by twelve inches by three. Sophie took the box and placed it on her desk. Removing the thin band holding the lid in place, she opened it. Inside, she found a dozen sheets of expensive-looking paper, matching envelopes, a fountain pen and a small bottle of black ink.

"What am I meant to do with this?" asked a puzzled Sophie.

"This is a very special package. With it, you may write and send the same letter to five people, with one stipulation — all of them must be deceased. You may ask only one question. Obviously, you should choose your question wisely if you wish to gain the knowledge that will help you live a happy and fulfilling life. Whomever you choose to contact, they will respond. Mail your letters to the people of your choice, and mark them "address unknown".

"But how can they respond if—" Sophie's question was cut short when she turned her eyes from the box to the foot of her bed, which was now vacant. Mephisto had left the building.

This is absurd; writing letters to dead people. Why? Because of some ridiculous waking nightmare involving a 65-year-old Agent Smith from The Matrix, wearing a suit from the 1850s. And yet, here I am.

Sophie had given serious thought before choosing the recipients of her letter.

I need perspectives from as many viewpoints as possible. A historian will be able to tell me what has worked for others. I must include a scientist, because they will be analytical and grounded in reality. Of course, I can't leave religion out, since my parents said that's where I should always turn for guidance. Philosophy is a must when considering the most important question of all. And it's unthinkable I could omit the name of my favourite Age of Enlightenment celebrity. If I can't have my wish of sitting down to dinner with him, a letter would be wonderful!

 

Now to the content. After a few minutes' thought, she penned the following on each of five sheets of paper:

Dear _______,

[She resisted the urge to write "I hope this finds you well."]

I am struggling to make sense of the world around me and my place in it. I have to make better choices and deal more easily with events that transpire. Please advise: What, in your opinion, is the meaning and purpose of my existence?

Yours with great appreciation,
Sophie Walden

In the salutation of each letter, she wrote one of the following names: Herodotus of Halicarnassus, Martin Luther, Albert Einstein, Immanuel Kant, and Voltaire. Not allowing herself time to further consider how ridiculous this course of action was, she placed each letter in an envelope, addressed it as instructed, and hurried to the nearest mailbox.


Noble enquirer,

I, Herodotus, the chronicler of times past, shall endeavor to illuminate the profound mystery of the meaning and purpose of all human existence. Firstly, it is to seek knowledge and wisdom, for in understanding the world and its myriad wonders, one finds a deeper connection to the divine and the natural order. Secondly, it is to forge bonds of kinship and community, for through these relationships, individuals find strength, support, and a sense of belonging. Lastly, it is to leave a legacy, whether through deeds, progeny, or the sharing of stories, ensuring that one's essence endures beyond the ephemeral span of mortal life. Thus, the meaning of existence is a harmonious blend of personal growth, communal harmony, and enduring legacy, each aspect enriching the human experience and contributing to the eternal narrative of humanity.

As she sat staring at the communication in front of her, Sophie could not believe she had received responses to all five letters. This is a decent start, but it's too general. Where is the advice specific to me? She turned to the second:

Dearest Fraulein,

In the vast cosmos, each individual is a part of a greater whole. Our purpose is to seek knowledge and to unravel the mysteries of the universe, for in this pursuit, we find a sense of wonder and fulfillment. Yet, equally important is our role within the human community. "Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile," I once remarked. This sentiment underscores the importance of compassion, kindness, and service to others. By contributing to the well-being of our fellow humans and striving to make the world a better place, we find true meaning and purpose. Thus, the essence of our existence lies in the harmonious balance between intellectual exploration and altruistic endeavors, each enriching our lives and the lives of those around us.

Well, I've always experienced wonder while contemplating nature, and I think I am as sympathetic to the needs of my fellow humans as most. Valid points, but I wonder what advice my ecclesiastical friend has to offer.

My Child,

The meaning of existence can only be understood through the lens of faith. Our purpose — yours, mine and all of humankind's — is to glorify God and to live in accordance with his commandments. Our lives are not our own, they are gifts from our heavenly Father. They gain meaning from a life of faith, service and devotion, fulfilling the Almighty's purpose, and participating in the expansion of his kingdom on Earth....

Sophie recalled why she had stopped attending church as soon as she was old enough to defy her parents' wishes. Without taking time to read the rest of the letter, she downed a swig of coffee, and quickly moved on to Kant's response.

Dear Sophie,

The essence of our existence is deeply connected to our capacity for rational thought and our adherence to moral law. The purpose of life, I propose, is to act in accordance with the categorical imperative, which commands us to act only according to maxims that we can will to become universal laws. This means living a life guided by duty and moral principles, rather than by mere whims or desires. Our lives become fruitful through the pursuit of virtue and the fulfillment of our moral obligations. Thus, the meaning of our existence lies in the harmonious integration of reason, morality, and the pursuit of the greater good, contributing to a just and ethical world.

Yes, that makes sense, I suppose. But it's all a bit vague. What is this moral law? And who determines it? I can see truth in all... well, most... of these responses. Do good. Be nice to small children and puppies. Obey the will of the gods. But isn't there more to it than that? I still don't understand the meaning and purpose of existence as it applies to me. What am I here for, and how should I find my way? Maybe no one will be able to answer.

With a mixed sense of trepidation and hope, Sophie picked up the final envelope. On the back, it read "Sender: Francois-Marie Arouet (M. de Voltaire)". She opened it, and as she did so, a pencil fell out and landed at her feet. Removing the remaining contents, she found herself staring at a single blank sheet of paper. After several seconds, she turned the page over. The rear was as empty as the front.

Half a minute passed while Sophie's brain processed the unusual communication. Slowly, her lips curled into a gentle smile.

 

Thank you, my friend. At last, I understand.