CHAPTER 3. OUR LIFE.

February 3, 1931.

"And what did Mr. Estevan Breitenberg do?"

"What a man of his position should have done—he simply laughed in Mr. Rhiannon Collier's face. And indeed, isn't there an exceptional irony in the fact that the very pious clergyman, undoubtedly, in the opinion of public worldview, who preached the truly ancient doctrine of God with special arrogance and no less colossal zeal, and consequently tirelessly instructed people in nothing more and nothing less than moderate abstinence, turned out to be a most ordinary and pathetic drunkard? Yes, a drunkard! And he became one for a reason! Father Luylwitz told Mr. Rhiannon Collier with his own lips about the very reasons, thanks to which, or if you will, with the assistance of which, his not only spiritual but, more importantly, professional colleague fell—according to Father Luylwitz's words, Father Grimes is no longer able to stay among the spaces of this sublunary world in a sober mind because a certain, truly wonderful realization suddenly arose in his mind, as if he, Father Grimes, is one of the countless number of crooks and liars: one of those countless false orators who constantly assure and, more significantly, convince a considerable number of people that God, of course, exists!"—Mitchell Ledner answered Dion Hessel's question with great enthusiasm, after which he immediately delivered a truly skillful blow with a locksmith's hammer to the already crumbly, relatively old, plaster layer of a wall that was, indeed, significant in size.

"Well, what do you think, Mitchell—does God exist?"

"You see, Mr. Dion, if you believe in the existence of God, then this world is nothing more and nothing less than a world of paradoxes for each of us, for every person... Here, for example, is one of them: in order to gain immortality, I have to die. Isn't that paradoxical? What can I say—I don't believe in the existence of God: I don't believe because I have read the Bible too often and too thoughtfully—this book is, indeed, completely filled with contradictions. After I first became acquainted with the Bible, I became a deeply religious person. After I read the Bible for the second time, I became a religious person. After I read the Bible for the third time, I became a person! It is precisely because I am perfectly familiar with the content of this book that my being is now able to fully comprehend the real tragedy of Father Grimes—this is what happens to people whose only goal in life was the long-term and widespread dissemination of, albeit to a large extent plausible, but still, an exclusive delusion... The Bible! This book always, until the moment of my absolute revelation, and consequently, the recognition of the comprehensive and all-crushing power of reason, was at the edge of my desk, for its content was more often perused by my unusually curious eyes than other books—perhaps that's why it fell off my desk more often than other books?.."

"And more likely because your movements were too clumsy! Even now... look... you need to strike in this spot... but for some reason, you're hitting here... and if you were thinking about work, Mitchell, instead of telling me about your thoughts about God when only a short answer was needed... then your work would be of better quality than it is now!"—Mr. Hessel said disapprovingly, whose soul and mind, without any doubt, were significantly disturbed by the aforementioned words of twenty-year-old Mitchell Ledner.

After these aforementioned words of forty-two-year-old Mr. Dion Hessel, Mitchell Ledner, constantly fighting within his being with a truly considerable latent indignation that often flares up in every young soul in the blink of an eye, but subsides within it for a significantly longer time, began to perform his duties with special diligence and, indeed, with exceptional zeal, deliberately paying significant attention to every insignificant trifle and detail, for the very successful fulfillment of which he was entitled to a corresponding reward. So, nothing more and nothing less than unusually skillfully, with the help of a locksmith's hammer, disorganizing the relatively old plaster layer of a wall that was, indeed, significant in size, Mitchell Ledner was deeply reflecting on his current life in these moments—constantly destroying physical objects, he continuously created metaphysical objects. Yes, that's right! He was reflecting on life—even if primitively, even if mediocrely, but still, he was trying to comprehend it: to comprehend it by understanding himself, and consequently with the help of not only the thoughts but, more importantly, the feelings newly produced by his being—it must be admitted that he had as much time for this realization as a guard had during the performance of his service.

"But in fact, how is a plasterer's work worse than, for example, a writer's or an artist's? Truly, in no way! It's the same kind of work as all other manifestations of talent and revelation! However, now public opinion craves to call only what, one way or another, gives it aesthetic pleasure 'creativity'—but is such pleasure possible without corresponding comfort? Of course not! Although it may seem destructive at first glance, one should judge it only by taking into account its results, but by no means the process itself! Yes, from now on, I have no more doubts! This is creativity—very original and very peculiar creativity... and therefore one should reason about it in an original and peculiar way: in this sublunary world, do people harvest a sunflower crop with the help of the same technical devices that, for example, are used to harvest a grain crop?"—the aforementioned whirlwind of thoughts chaotically swirled in Mitchell Ledner's consciousness, seemingly impossible to tame in any way.