a bubble

It was a perfect bubble. Not quite round, taut with hints of translucence. It did not threaten to burst or grow out of proportion, implode or disappear. It quite simply hung around. A nice insipid bubble with a slight hint of indeterminate color. He decided to like it.

There are many colors that we all see. Some we own, others come and go with the seasons. Some are artificially created, like the naturally prepared orange juice with preservative Y and chemical X that he liked to drink. Others appear almost on whim, like the colors of his dreams and fears. Then there are red blue green and yellow. And black with or without white. In the course of his experiments he created many bubbles using all the colors. There were red bubbles and bluegreenyellow bubbles. The white bubbles were a tad difficult to create and the black ones seemed to pop out in between so that jotting down his results was becoming difficult. Others like magenta, lilac and amber were not technically colors. They were shades. He gave up creating shade bubbles after the first year since they tended to float up and merge with the other shades all around his room. By the time he was eight he decided that the only proper shape a bubble could ever take was round. After that he concentrated on trying to make exclusively round bubbles. There was the round square, the round line and the round round. In his ninth year he chanced upon the almost round. By the time he was ten he had despaired of ever making the perfect bubble. Then two months into post bubble retirement it popped out in a freak accident. The perfect bubble.

Though it was hard to tear his eyes away from his greatest achievement, he realized that he must chronicle this moment. Taking out his log he opened it to a blank page where he wrote the date. Today. Neatly dividing the page into two on one side he put down the technical detail. On the other he described in completeness all the various attributes of his perfect bubble. Job done, he tucked the log book away into his side drawer and pulled a sheet over his head. How long he took to drift into sleep is not known. What we do know is that the bubble continued to float. That was its purpose.

Many years after today when bubbles have escaped our collective consciousness there will be an academic convention. All the great minds of that time will attend. They will bring their ideas and be identified by their arguments. Afterward they will adjourn for lunch. He will also be called upon to attend. He will nod politely when congratulated and particularly enjoy the rare steak. By that time the world would have advanced beyond our belief. He will be feted for his contributions toward bringing about a complete society. Ideals of peace, harmony and prosperity will have been achieved through his dedicated work. He will receive a purple sash and an inscribed coin. Later, out in the parking lot he will look at the world around him. He will stare it for some length. Almost round it will be, not threatening to burst or grow out of proportion, implode or disappear. A nice uniform world without the slightest hint of color. Perfect.