The Space Sieve

by David Smith

  ~ ~ ~

  It was a clear, sunny day in front of Phosia’s house. Everybody knew her. She was an endearing old woman who had placed a number of toilets in front of her house by the street as decoration. She used them as planters, and each one had flowers growing out of the bowl and out of the tank.

  “Seems like a waste,” she’d say, “to let something as beautiful as a torlet ever go to th’ landfill.”

  And indeed, she knew what she was talking about, for she had spent many years having only an outhouse. And as a lot of people can tell you, if you’ve ever used an outhouse for a long time, you know what a beautiful thing a toilet truly is.

  But as it applies to this story, at the end of her row of toilets in her front yard there was a strange, dull white box that looked like a small, upright piano – it was the Space Sieve. And since it didn’t have any nice openings that a toilet has to put plants in, Phosia had placed them in pots on top of it.

  You may be curious as to how the Space Sieve got there, at the end of her row of toilets. Actio had left it in the field where Craig and Donna’s house had been, and someone had thrown it away. Phosia had happened to be at the dump one day disposing of some garbage and had seen it falling out of a garbage truck. Thinking it was a toilet, she rushed over to it. Naturally, she had been disappointed when she’d seen it wasn’t a toilet, but she thought it was odd looking, and seemed lonely besides, and so she decided to give it a home.

  “What d’ya got that thing over there fer? ‘T’aint no torlet!” Her friends would say. But Phosia would patiently explain that she liked it anyway.

  “Hated to see such nice workmanship go to the landfill,” she’d say, “even though it weren’t no torlet.” And so she placed it there, at the end of her little row of toilets.

  And for the most part, it seemed to fit in there just fine. If there was one drawback for Phosia, it was the fact that the bird droppings – when they fell on the other toilets – tended to blend in more with the white porcelain than they did when they fell on the Space Sieve. The Device, as she put it, “Weren’t near as nice as them other torlets fer hidin’ the bird plaster.”

  But it wasn’t so bad, because she found they hose off easily enough. “Almost un-natch-rel how easy that thing is to hose off,” she’d say.

  And somehow it seemed at home there, baking in the sun with the flowers on top, just like all the real toilets beside it.

  Phosia had a dog named “Daisy-Joe,” who had a fondness for digging raw onions out of the garden and eating them. I know it is difficult to imagine how a dog’s breath could be any worse than it ordinarily is, but you get the picture.

  Anyway, one day ol’ Daisy-Joe went a diggin’ up and eatin’ onions agin’.

  And I find myself truly desperate for this to end as I am slipping further and further into your idioms.

  So, after eating Phosia’s onions and then sleeping for an hour, Daisy-Joe went over to its favorite place to relive itself. And while Phosia would never have tolerated one of her own children digging and eating her onions, much less urinating on her toilets, for some reason she let her dog do so.

  As the dog searched for a nice place to “go” as you would say, it decided to go on the different one this time. As it lifted its leg beside the Space Sieve and relieved itself, it applied a very unusual mix of chemicals to the exterior of the Device. And it was at a certain temperature. At the same time, the dog began to scratch the edge of the device with its raised hind leg.

  This combination it turns out, was precisely that odd combination of chemical, thermal, and tactile stimulus that Actio had set as the first key that could awaken the Device. He never could have imagined that an onion-eating dog could have produced this chemical, thermal, and tactile combination, but it is exactly what happened.

  As a result, three solid objects materialized over the Device – the second key.

  And the Device instantly turned black.

  “Cain’t believe you lettin’ the dog go a-piddlin on yer torlets,” Phosia’s husband, Elmo, said, as the two of them rocked in their chairs on the porch. “Hey, lookit there,” he continued, “at them funny lil’ birds a twirlin’ on top a-that black one!”

  But remember, Phosia had set potted plants on the Space Sieve. So what it looked like then, was there, on top of the Device, were potted plants, and three colored, twirling objects. And perhaps strangely to you, it appeared these three objects and the potted plants were all occupying the same space – none was blocking the view of the other.

  “Hey now,” the thought just occurred to Elmo, and he pointed, “where’d you done git a black torlet – there on the end?”

  “That’s my new-un,” she said. “But it ain’t – hey – how come it’s black!”

  And just then, the dog too saw that the object had turned black. And when it then also saw the three strange objects hovering above the Machine, it took a safe distance, then ran off.

  “Hey, Daisy! Daisy-Joe-dog!” Phosia called to it, as she got up and headed over to the Space Sieve. “Them’s ain’t birds, a-floatin’ over’n it!” she said, and momentarily turning back, “I done told you that there thing weren’t just no ordinary piece a junk!”

  But as she turned back toward the Machine, the three objects were gone and the Device was a dull white again. For Actio, in his wisdom, had set the lock such that were the first key to be given, but the three solid objects – the second key – not quickly manipulated after appearing, they would disappear once again, providing yet another safety feature.

  “What th”?” she said.

  Her husband leaned forward. “Done told ya thems was birds atop it,” he said.

  “They done flewt away!”

  She turned back to him. The hot afternoon sun was making her sweat. “You see ‘em fly off?” she asked.

  Her husband was getting irritated. It was a very hot day. “Yeah! I done seed ‘em fly off. They done went over there someplace.” And he waved his arm as he sunk back into the chair.

  Phosia took his word for it having little other choice, and she came back and went into the house.

  Sitting there in the sun, the Space Sieve remained inert, locked, powerless, unfeeling, and uncaring.

  It was – it is – just a Device after all. It has no consciousness of any kind. If nobody wanted to use it, it neither knew, nor cared.

  In the grass around it, the leafhoppers went about their business, trying to stay away from the jumping spiders as a mourning dove sat on the telephone line, and its tail moved faintly, in rhythm with its cooing. In the distance, the sound of an impact sprinkler could be heard. Except for a few fluffy clouds, the sun blazed in an empty, blue sky.

  It was what you would call a perfect day – and in fact, it was a pretty day – the sort of day that makes your world occasionally worth visiting. And so, here I end.

  Now at last, I bid you farewell.

  And while you may have occasionally detected a feeling of condescension on my part toward you, nonetheless, I sincerely wish your journey will be a happy one, with much good learning and adventures along the way, until that bright day comes when we may all meet together once again. And hopefully in that day, when you at last cast away that time which so binds you now, we can then experience life together as it truly is, and do so on a more equal basis.