The Boy And The Machine

Once upon a time, there was a Boy. He was a smart, curious boy, and as with most young children, there was little that could interest him more than being excluded from something. It was for this reason that he would endlessly wonder about the Door.

The Door was a magical thing to him. It stood tall, and all day long the Adults would go in through the Door, and then come back out, very business-like, very brusque, dressed in sharp suits and in quite a rush. And oh, the Boy wondered what was kept on the other side of the Door, for he could sometimes hear sounds coming through the Wall in which it sat: sounds of clicking and whirring and whistling and chimes, sounds of great gears grinding and pipes knocking and things rumbling. The Boy sat, and he imagined the Machine that must be on the other side, and what workings it must create.