Not Knowing v Knowing

Prong deposits Bowl in Saint Elias's box.

You're back! says Toyshop. What was it like?

Big, says Bowl. 

That's a terrible description, says Toyshop.

How was the lighting? asks Saint Elias.

Bowl hadn't particularly noticed the lighting.

Bur if he closes his eyes ...

He has retained an impression.

Blue on one side and orange on the other, says Bowl. And light brown in the middle.

Light brown in the middle? says Saint Elias.

It sounds nice, says Toyshop. Light brown is the colour of bears.

Not all bears, says Saint Elias. They can be black, white or dark brown.

What diseases do they get? asks Toyshop.

I told you, I don't know, says Saint Elias.

I wasn't asking you, says Toyshop.

Me? says Bowl. How should I know?

I thought you might have heard prayers for miracle cures when you lived in the Virgin's bowl, says Toyshop.

Not for bears, says Bowl. Why are you asking?

We could be patron saints of bears, says Toyshop. If we knew their diseases.

It can't be that easy, says Bowl.

I suppose not, says Toyshop.

Don't give up boys, says Saint Elias. Why don't you think up a plan?

Bowl has an idea straight away. 

He stands up in the box. 

But he's too low to see over the side.

He climbs up on Saint Elias's pointing finger.

He peers over the edge of the box.

Where is Terence? Where is Sweezus? Where is Prong? Where is Simone?

The only person he can see is Sartre, busy typing away on his phone.

Hey! shouts Bowl. Where is everyone?

Sartre looks up from his typing.

They went to a café, says Sartre. Is there a problem?

What diseases do bears get? asks Bowl.

Sartre did not expect to be asked such a question.

Are you feeling unwell? asks Sartre. 

No, says Bowl. It's a general question.

Sartre wonders if the answer to this general question could find a place in his blog.

He thinks not.

But now he'll be plagued by not knowing the answer.

And the answer won't be hard to find. 

What diseases do bears get? he types.

Oops! Not here. 

He deletes the question.

Goes out. Asks the search engine:

What diseases do bears get?

He expects to learn they get bear influenza, or piles.

But no! Their most common disease is roundworms.

From eating infected rodents, small mammals and carrion.

Hmm.

Bowl may not like this.

He tells him anyway.

Invisible Strings

Bowl is now inside the basilica.

Amazed at how large it appears.

It seemed smaller when he lived on the outside.

He stands under the parachuting Jesus, wondering.

A parachute?

Signifying a downward trajectory?

Can that be right?

He hears a couple of humans debating.

One thinks it's a jellyfish.

The other questions why Jesus would be crucified under a jellyfish.

Bowl wonders that too.

Perhaps thinks Bowl, it is neither a parachute nor a jellyfish, but a floating canopy lifting him skyward on invisible strings.

He turns, to go and look elsewhere, at other things.

One of the humans almost trips over him, because he is small.

Oh look! says the human. Someone's lost their toy bear.

She picks him up.

A Sylvanian bear! I used to collect these!

What will you do with it? asks her partner.

Take it to Lost Property, I suppose, says the collector. I can't just leave it here.

Bowl is in danger of ending up in Lost Property.

But Prong has been watching.

She intervenes now.

She flies down from the ledge of a stained glass window, and lands on a pew.

She squawks to attract the collector's attention.

A parrot! says the collector.

A messenger! says Prong.

When a parrot flies down inside the basilica, and claims to be a messenger, a crowd quickly gathers.

What is the message? asks someone.

The message is for the lady who picked up the toy bear, says Prong.

That's me, says the collector. I wasn't intending to keep it.

We know! says Prong. It is our fault for losing it.

Here, says the collector, holding Bowl out to Prong.

Blessings upon you! says Prong.

Bowl is impressed by Prong's performance. Calling herself we, and giving blessings.

Prong takes hold of Bowl by his tiny tee shirt, and flies with him to the exit.

What just happened? asks the collector. Did anyone film it?

Of course.

Quite a few people did.

Prayers That Float In And Out

So how does it work? asks Toyshop?

You have to become a saint first, says Saint Elias.

How? asks Toyshop.

I believe it's harder these days, says Saint Elias. In my day I simply went about slaying false prophets.

What can a bear do? asks Toyshop.

You could try doing miracle cures, says Saint Elias.

Okay, says Toyshop. Of other bears, or what?

Other bears I suppose, says Saint Elias.

And how do you do miracle cures? asks Toyshop.

That is your problem, says Saint Elias. I don't do them myself.

What do you do? asks Toyshop.

Droughts and famine, says Saint Elias. Protecting against them.

Sounds easier than miracle cures, says Toyshop.

That is debatable, says Saint Elias. What diseases do bears get?

I don't know, says Toyshop. 

Mange, probably, says Saint Elias. Teeth falling out.

Toyshop is unconvinced. There must be worse things.

I'll ask Bowl, says Toyshop. He'll probably know.

Why do you think that? asks Saint Elias.

He was in the Virgin's bowl as a replacement, says Toyshop. He was in it for years.

You don't say! says Saint Elias. 

Yes, he must have learned about all kinds of diseases, says Toyshop.

No doubt, says Saint Elias. Many prayers must have floated into and out of his head.

That's a nice way of putting it, says Toyshop.

In fact, your friend Bowl is a far better candidate for sainthood than you are, says Saint Elias.

Oh, says Toyshop.

Don't despair, says Saint Elias. See how things go. Bowl may end up in Lost Property.

Yes, he may. 

And Toyshop half hopes that he will.

Am I Depicted?

Saint Elias looks sideways at Toyshop.

Toyshop looks directly at him.

Hrumph! says Saint Elias, again.

I know why you're hrumphing, says Toyshop.

You do, do you? says Saint Elias. 

They took your sword, says Toyshop. 

I shouldn't have let it go, says Saint Elias.

Same with my handbag, says Toyshop.

What is a handbag? asks Saint Elias.

A bag you hold in your hand, says Toyshop. You keep things inside it.

What things? asks Saint Elias.

Any things. I had a drink bottle, a notebook and a tiny pencil, says Toyshop.

Those are strange things, says Saint Elias.

I think they were for bear care, says Toyshop. But I never made it.

Certain people bought you, and stripped you of your equipment, says Saint Elias. The same happened to me.

What are you pointing at? asks Toyshop.

Does it matter now? asks Saint Elias.

Yes. Don't give up, says Toyshop.

You gave up, says Saint Elias. I was listening.

I gave up waiting to go into the basilica, says Toyshop. My friend Bowl went in.

You should have gone in, says Saint Elias.

I didn't want to end up in Lost Property, says Toyshop.

I would have risked it, says Saint Elias.

Why? asks Toyshop. 

To see the inside, says Saint Elias. To see if I'm depicted.

Are you famous? asks Toyshop.

Famous enough to be a souvenir icon, says Saint Elias. But am I famous enough to be depicted in there?

We can ask Bowl when he comes out, says Toyshop.

If he's not stuck in Lost Property, says Saint Elias.

And if he's noticed, says Toyshop. He wouldn't be looking for you in particular.

He would surely notice a man being whirled up to the heavens on a chariot of fire, says Saint Elias.

Is that you? asks Toyshop.

Yes, says Saint Elias. That is me. It's the reason I became the patron saint of pilots.

Wow! says Toyshop. I'd love to be the patron saint of something.

How about bears? asks Saint Elias.

Bears! Perfect! thinks Toyshop. I'll pick his brains to find out how it works.

Pointing At What?

Where are the Fuzzballs? asks Prong.

Terence looks around for the Fuzzballs. 

They are probably playing with their handbag somewhere.

But he can't see them.

Maybe they ran away, says Terence.

You'd better find them, says Simone. Or what was the point of the rescue?

Only one of them was rescued, says Sartre.

Irrelevant, says Simone

I'll find them! says Prong.

She flies up to the top of a portico, from which there's a view.

There are the Fuzzballs, down below, in the queue.

She flies down to the Fuzzballs.

What are you two doing here? asks Prong.

Waiting, says Bowl Fuzzball.

To go inside, says Toyshop Fuzzball.

You don't have tickets, says Prong.

We didn't think we'd need tickets, says Bowl Fuzzball.

Everyone needs a ticket, says Prong. Even you.

The queue moves forward.

You'll see, says Prong. They won't let you through.

Let's give up, says Toyshop Fuzzball.

Yes, give up, says Prong. Come back and see Terence's new finger.

Okay, says Toyshop.

I'm staying, says Bowl.

At least I know where you are, says Prong. Come on, Toyshop.

Prong and Toyshop go back to where Terence and the others are waiting.

I found them! says Prong. They were in the queue for the basilica. 

And I gave up, says Toyshop. Because I don't have a ticket.

You don't need a ticket, says Terence. You're not a person.

I am a person, says Toyshop.

You look like a toy, says Terence. They would just think you were one.

A toy needs to belong to someone, says Simone. A toy on its own ends up in Lost Property.

I made a good choice then, says Toyshop. Bowl didn't.

I'll keep an eye on him, says Prong.

Look at my new finger, says Terence.

He shows it to Toyshop.

It looks like a sword, says Toyshop.

It is a sword, says Terence. 

Where did it come from? asks Toyshop.

Saint Liar, says Terence. He's in that box, pointing.

What at? asks Toyshop.

Terence thinks. 

Saint Liar will be horizontal. And pointing at what?

The end of the box, says Terence. 

Can I see him? asks Toyshop.

Of course you can, says Simone. He might like some company. And you won't wander off.

She picks up Toyshop, takes the lid off the box, and places him beside Saint Elias.

Hello, says Toyshop to Saint Elias. 

Hrumph! says Saint Elias.

Understandably gruff.

Crazy Conjecture

Prong flies down and lands beside Terence.

Where have you been? asks Terence.

Looking for Arthur and Federico, says Prong.

Yeah? Where are they? asks Sweezus.

In a café, near here, having lunch, says Prong.

I thought they went off for breakfast, says Simone.

It turned into lunch, says Prong. 

They'll get a surprise when they come back, says Terence.

They sure will, says Sweezus. 

What's your surprise? asks Terence.

What's yours? asks Sweezus. 

My new sword finger, says Terence. 

Let's see it, says Prong.

Terence shows her his sword finger.

Where did it come from? asks Prong. 

The guy in the box, says Terence. Saint Liar.

Saint Elias, says Sweezus.

How come he had a sword? asks Prong.

Good question, says Sweezus. I'll find out.

He takes out his phone and taps for a few seconds.

Man! says Sweezus. This guy was a tough dude! 

What have you found out? asks Simone.

He killed 450 false prophets, says Sweezus, and ascended to heaven in a whirlwind, on a chariot of fire.

Simone looks at Sartre.

Action man! He's your type of hero.

I'd need to learn more, says Sartre. How do we know they were false prophets?

I guess he knew, says Simone. And the whirlwind's a nice detail.

Did he use my sword finger to kill all those people? asks Terence.

What do you reckon? asks Sweezus.

Terence examines his sword finger. The glue seems to have dried.

He touches the end with his right pointer finger.

Blunt. Which was why he was allowed to have it.

And small.

So it probably wasn't the actual weapon.

Your sword finger represents the sword that killed the false prophets, says Sweezus. If they WERE false. We don't even know.

Maybe that's why he was called Saint Liar, says Terence.

Except that he wasn't, says Sweezus.

And he got found out, says Terence. So he had to escape in a whirlwind. If it was a whirlwind because we don't know.

Saint Elias lies in his box fuming at all this misinformation, lack of faith and crazy conjecture. 

But without his sword, there's not much he can do.

Sequential Events

All right, insert this, says Sartre. The artificial finger was broken.

Where? asks Simone.

It doesn't matter where, says Sartre. 

How about at the end of the second to last sentence? says Simone. 

I thought you were talking about the finger, says Sartre.

No, says Simone. The insertion.

As long as we understand one another, says Sartre. 

Go on, says Simone.

Once again I mounted my bicycle, (dictates Sartre), and cycled through the streets of Barcelona. My thoughts were of fingers. Then it came to me. Saints! Saints are famous for fingers. But of course, I did not want a preserved one. My young colleague would turn his nose up at a withered dead finger..

He pauses, to see how this goes down.

Very funny, says Simone.

What's funny? asks Terence.

He's saying that you wouldn't have wanted an old dead saint's finger, says Simone.

Maybe I would've, says Terence. 

Yes but it's what he was thinking, says Simone. Not what you're thinking. You don't even know.

Know what? asks Terence.

What he's thinking, says Simone.

I do, says Terence. He thinks I don't want one,

But you only just learned that, says Simone. And the readers still haven't.

Yikes! says Terence. 

It's due to the sequential nature of events, says Simone.

Have we finished? asks Sartre.

Go on, dear, says Simone.

Sartre continues:

On Carrer del Duc, I spotted a shop selling religious icons. I parked my bike and went in. There were many saints on display, all with fingers. I chose Saint Elias, whose left pointer finger pointed upwards. Easy to break off, I thought. It occurred to me that they might have a broken one in a skip out the back. I asked, but they claimed that they didn't. I could hardly argue. So once again, I was obliged to pay up. Twenty seven euros. But it came in a box.

You're making yourself sound like a cheapskate, says Simone.

But Sartre doesn't think that he is.