“The trouble is,” sighed a fat man, “you can’t be happy when everything is done for you.”
“And we don’t want to be nobodies,” shouted another.
Another said very mournfully: “It seems to me that when these wooden things do things with our things, then the things that they do and make and care for are not our things.”
“Too many ‘things’ in that speech,” said the fat man.
“Well, there are too many things,” answered the other. “Look at me. I used to be gardener and now I’m nothing. When my garden is dug and planted and tended and watered and the very flowers plucked by these wooden things, and when other wooden things pick up the leaves and pull the weeds and do everything, then my garden does not seem to be mine.” He added after awhile: “I hope you know what I mean, because it is not very clear to me, yet it is so. I remember——”
At that the little old man put up his hand and said: “But that is against the contract. You must not try to remember, really you must not, because there are manikins to do all the remembering, if you please.”
“Well, but I think——” began the man, when he was again interrupted.
“Please do not think,” said the little old man. “We have things to do the thinking, if you please.” He thought for a moment, his bent forefinger on his lips, then he said: “I’ll see what can be done. It is clear that you are not satisfied, although you have everything that you asked for and certainly all the time that you want.”
“Let us do something,” murmured Tera.
“I’m afraid there is nothing that you can do,” said the little old man, “because, as you see, everything is done, and when everything is done it is quite clear that something cannot be left to be done. The only thing that is clear is that there is nothing to be done.”