The rose, the fox, and the the aviator.
(I)
When I was a little boy, my grandfather had told me a lot of things. There were few things to be seen in our place, but his tales were beyond what I could see from our tiny dwelling. It was such a small planet where we lived in, by moving our chair we could watch sunsets forty and four times. But my grandfather told me that it was such a sad habit — to watch the sunset, that is.
In mornings I would help him clear the growing baobabs, tend his rose, and heat water from his volcanoes. I would watch him and his friendly fights with his young rose, that albeit had appeared from the earth when my grandfather was so much younger, it remained youthful every after she completed her cycle. She was just like any plant, any flower in fact, ephemeral and vulnerable. So no matter how vexing her vanity was, grandfather perfectly understood her. He had been tending her since his hair was gold, and until now that it was crowning gray.
Whenever I would offer him my help in watering or weeding his rose, he would refuse. His frail finger would point to the small box lying on the opposite side of this asteroid where his sheep was kept. "Free him and let him clear the baobabs," he'd say. And I knew enough that he was talking about the young ones. Baobabs had no chances to grow taller above my knees, since we do our living by keeping the planet clear from colossal baobabs. I would abide and cast him a last glance, a look that was often wondering why I couldn't tend his rose in his place.
We would do the same routine hours before dusk. In our planet, things grew rather quick — as swift as the daybreak turns to a nightfall. So we would plough the earth and weed again, throw the caterpillars and save one or two to be butterflies. I would stroll the sheep while grandfather talked to his rose, and I would be wondering about the rose for the rest of the day. When the sky was already dark and we could see the neighboring asteroids, I would watch my grandfather stare at them — even farther ahead. His gaze was blank but blissful, just like his pointless arguments with his rose and her coughing. I see no entertainment in staring at the starry sky, for it was the same sky I was seeing since I was born.
One time in the quietness of evening after our peaceful dinner, I finally asked my grandfather the things I always wanted to know the answers.
"Grandpa," I said, eyeing him like the usual curious boy I was. "Why can't I water the rose in your place? You are weak nowadays, and picking up the sprinkler is a bother to you. Especially when you have rheumatism."
Grandpa remained silent. His wrinkles might have deceived me, for he looked like he was smiling under the starlight. He only blinked his fading blue eyes and sighed.
"Grandpa," I called again, wanting to hear an answer. I had lots of things to learn. "Why can't I water the rose in your place?"
"Well, because I don't want you to." His voice was throaty and weary due to old age. If I only knew that the reason was as plain as that, I shouldn't have asked at all. I thought that was all, but he added something after some minutes elapsed. In this little planet, my grandfather used to be the little prince, but he is now an aged prince.
"She is my rose." He said, head turning to where the rose was standing. She was there, sleeping quietly, sheltered under my grandfather's glass globe. "There are hundreds of roses and they all look the same; there are hundreds of old men and the lines and wrinkled skin make them look alike; there are thousands of old men tending their flowers, but this rose was unique for me as I was unique for her."
My grandfather met my gaze. I was puzzled with what he was saying. As though he understood why I was gaping at him, he continued.
"We may look just like any old man looking after his garden, but she is my rose. You have to find your rose to tend yourself." Grandfather smiled at me. It was his genuine smile that made him look so much younger, as if in a blink of an eye I was talking to a child and not an aged man. "Before the break of dawn attend your duties, then leave to find what's in the rose that makes it special."
"I don't want to," I told him. I was only offering a hand to aid him with his rose, but I never meant that I want to take care of an arrogant rose. Her pride would be her end one day. "You are certainly queer. Who would want to look after a rose with a pride bigger than our place? It is as queer as your habit of staring at the sky, grandpa. I don't understand you."
My grandfather stifled a laughter. I somewhat felt insulted, knowing that I never said a funny thing at all. After his groggy laughter, he let out a sigh of relief.
"You spoke like a grown-up. Things need no explanation, Len. You're still a child." My grandfather patted my head. He would always say those things to me, that I am still a child and things need no explanation. "If you want to know what's with the rose, why I am staring at stars, and why things need not to be explained to a child, before the break of dawn, ask the migrating birds to take you to the places I had visited."
I have thought about what he said for the entire night. It felt like I have fallen asleep some minutes ago when I heard the fluttering of hundred wings. The morning came without notice.
"Good morning," I mumbled to myself and hopped down from my bed. Grandfather was already awake, and he was carrying something in his arms.
"Good morning, Len." He smiled and walked to me, giving a pair of shirt and pants that I never had seen before. The clothes were both lime in color. Grandfather asked me to wear them. I did it, and it fit me surprisingly. I wanted to ask who owned this clothes, but before I could voice my query, I was interrupted when grandfather pulled out a golden muffler. He wrapped it around my neck and ushered me outside the house.
"It's almost time," he said, smiling down to me. "The birds are waiting for you. Now, go and find the answers to your questions."
The birds dropped down a cord, asking me to hold on it. I was hesitant at first, because I somehow felt guilty for speaking that way to him last night. "Grandpa, I'm sorry for saying those ridiculous things about your rose. Can I stay?"
But the birds flapped their wings and I was slowly lifted up from the ground. "I'm not mad, Len. Children learn through experience. I want you to see the things you cannot see, and then you will understand. If ever you see the pilot again, tell him my greetings."
And I had lot more questions that were never asked, for the birds hoisted me from the ground. If my grandfather was puzzling enough, you could imagine how confused I was when he yelled lastly, "if you find a rose, or a fox, or the pilot himself, don't come back."
I don't understand my grandfather's thinking at all.
It was a lonely quiet flight. If it wasn't because of the birds' flapping wings, I could have gone mad with this eternal silence. After a long journey, the birds found a place to rest. It was the neighborhood of asteroids 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, and 330. And these birds familiar to my grandfather's journey before, landed on the first asteroid. They said I should visit them in order, just like what the little prince did when he was still little—and young.
"You're probably the new little prince?" The oldest bird asked me as I looked around this asteroid. It seemed inhabited other than the small family of mice living beneath the long ermine that almost covered the entire planet. It was small, a room bigger than B-612.
"I cannot be the little prince," I said, looking back at her small round eyes. "I am his grandson. Grandfather can be the only little prince."
He remained quiet just like the rest of the flock, and I told him that I would wander a little to find something amusing in this place. After several steps, I found the only person living in this asteroid, he was a king seated on his throne that was both simple and majestic. Clad in royal purple and ermine — he was the wearer of the white fur covering his planet.
"Ah! You have come back," the king exclaimed as he saw me approaching.
And I ask myself:
"How can he say that when we never have met?"
But soon I realized, he was talking about my grandfather when he visited this place.
"You must be the Minister of Justice my great grandfather talked about. You see, he was old so he passed away. However, he left a word about the wandering prince. I can see that you are still the same, never had grown at all?" The king narrowed his eyes to me, cupping his chin as he leaned forward to have a clearer view.
"Approach, so I may see you better," said he, who felt too overjoyed seeing me. "You had the same golden hair like what his tale told."
I had seen the entire planet but everything was crammed and obstructed my his magnificent ermine coat. And my tired legs wanted to rest but there seemed no place for me to sit. I yawned and stretched my arms in front of him.
"It is contrary to etiquette to yawn in the presence of the king." He looked disappointed as he brushed his midnight-blue forelocks away from his eyes. "I forbid you to do anything without my consent. I forbid you to yawn."
"But I have done it already." I said, frowning at him. "I am not your Minister of Justice, neither the traveler the old king talked about. I am his grandson and my name is Len." I yawned again, neglecting to ask permission. Asking permission to do things occurring naturally is absolutely ridiculous. "You see, I am from a long journey and I am tired."
"Well, I am your King Kaito who has been the king for nineteen years now—ever since I was born." The king pulled his ermine coat to give me some space so I could sit. "I order you to sit, Len."
And so I sat on the ground. I looked around and I could see the birds from where I am. It was a lonely planet with a king who was ruling over nothing but a family of mice. I turned back to look at him, and he was just smiling at me.
"King Kaito, can I ask you something?" I asked.
He looked delighted when I spoke. He replied, "go on and ask. That's an order."
It was ridiculous, really. Maybe I would try asking him if I could inhale a bit of his air. "Sire—over what do you rule?"
"Over everything," said King Kaito with magnificent simplicity.
I could not see what 'everything' King Kaito was talking about. And so I repeated, "over everything?"
He made a gesture, which took in his planet, the other asteroids, and the stars. He was not only ruling in this empty planet, but also in the entire universe. He was an absolute monarch, but I never had known him as my king.
"And do the stars obey you?" I peered at him curiously as he sat back on his throne.
"They certainly do." He flicked his forelocks away from his eyes again, and leaned his cheek to his right palm. "I do not permit insubordination. I am a king and a king's word is absolute."
That was some authority I never had have heard. Back in B-612, I do obey whatever my grandfather would ask me to do, so maybe grandpa counted as a king. But he never talked to the stars, he only stared at them. Maybe he couldn't ask them to follow his will like King Kaito's.
If the stars obey King Kaito, maybe I can ask him to tell me why grandpa stares at them every night. "The stars . . . do me the kindness . . . ask them to tell me why grandpa stares at them."
"Hum! Hum!" The king straightened from his seat and looked up to the sky. "If I ordered a rat to change himself to a cat, or if I ask a general to grow wings, if they fail to fulfill my wish, which one of us is wrong?" King Kaito smiled at me, "the rat, the general, or myself?"
"You." I pointed out.
"Exactly. I do not ask people to do things they cannot do. Orders shall be reasonable." He leaned back against his throne, shoulders slacked off as if a burden was lifted from him. "One should ask something one can do.'
"Then the stars...?" It was a disappointment for him to talk like that. He could have simply refused.
"You can know the answer when you find it yourself."
I stood from my seat and bowed at him. "Then I don't have anything to do here," I walked back to the flock of birds, but the king called me back.
"Don't leave! Don't leave—my great grandfather told me that once the little prince came back, I should keep him. He was the only subject the former king had talked to."
"But I was not the little prince," I answered, scratching the back of my ears with my small hands. "And you cannot ask the stars, because they won't talk to you—or to anyone. Your power is nothing but ceremonial. I do not understand you,"
"I will make you the Minister of Justice—just like your grandfather!"
"Nothing in here can be judged," I shot him a questioning look.
"I heard that there was rat and its family were living somewhere. You can judge them," King Kaito was fretful and uneasy, his magnificent simplicity fell like our sunsets and daybreaks—too quick.
"Why would I judge a family of mice? Aren't your authority for beings like us, alone? It's not like they can obey your orders, anyway? Even if you look grand and noble, I can't understand why is there a rat inhabiting your planet? Do all monarchs had hidden filth? I have a long journey awaiting to be continued, King Kaito."
He only stared at me, probably astounded with whatever I just told him. I haven't told something too hard to understand, right? When I heard no answer, I walked away and held the cord, and the birds took me to the neighboring planet.
The next planet was inhabited by a conceited man.
"Ah! I haven't seen an admirer for some years!" The conceited man exclaimed from afar. Even if we haven't landed on his planet, he already greeted us.
He has this long lilac hair flowing down from his shoulders to his waist. Atop his head sits a tall hat that looked as ridiculous as his wide smile.
"Good morning," I said as soon as my feet touched the ground. The night had passed after we left the first planet. "That is a queer hat you are wearing."
"It is a hat for salutes." He answered, peering down at me with curiosity. "You must be the little prince? My great grandfather talked a lot about your brief visit—because you're the last admirer he had seen."
I frowned at him like how I frowned at King Kaito. "I am not the little prince. My grandfather is the little prince, I am his grandson. My name is Len."
He stood straight and puckered his lips, eyes narrowing at the flock of birds behind me. "The flock of birds, the dress, the scarf . . . you surely looked like what my great grandfather was talking about. Well then, if you insist, my name is Gakupo."
"Your hat is queer." I told him, dodging the talk about grandfathers and names. I ought to find the unseen.
"As I already told you, this is a hat for salutes. It is to rise when people praise me. Unfortunately, nobody at all passes this way." His face looked sad for a second, but he quickly grinned at me like a proud man. But I see nothing to be proud of.
"Uh?"
"Clap your hands, one against another." He told me and I did so. The conceited Gakupo raised his hat in a modest salute.
"This is more entertaining than to visit the king," I mumbled to myself and clapped my hands again, one against the other. But after five minutes of clapping my hands and raising his hat, there were nothing else to do.
"If I have to clap so you'll raise your hat, what shall I do to make the hat come down?" Gakupo only smiled to me. I just proved that conceited people had their ears only for compliments.
"Do you admire me that much?" And he was full of himself. He was a conceited man after all.
"What does that mean—admire?"
"To admire means to regard me the 'most' everything in the planet — the handsomest, the richest man, and the most intelligent in the planet."
"I admire you," because he was truly beautiful, but I could so no reason why he would claim that he was worthy of my admiration. "But what is there in that to interest you so much? You're the only man in this planet, so all those descriptions go to you."
"Do me the kindness, just admire the same."
"You only salute when you are praised—that is certainly queerer than your hat."
And with that, the birds took me away from his planet. These people were odd. And I was not odd enough like them for grandpa to regard me as a grown-up.
From where I am right now, it will take us some time to reach the third planet. For some reason it is a little far from the second asteroid, so I decided to take a nap while the birds carry me toward it. When I opened my eyes we are almost there, so I pushed away the urge to nap again.
However, I did not expect this visit to be short and down in the mouth.
"What are you doing?" I asked as I approach the tippler who was surrounded by a collection of empty bottles and bottles full of alcohol. The air smelled bitter and suffocating, it got stronger as I closed the distance to her.
She bobbed her head up to me, her cheeks were burning in redness. Her hand tugged her brown locks away and I saw a clearer view of her face.
"I am drinking," she replied, grabbing another bottle full of alcohol.
"Why are you drinking?"
"To forget," she replied as she chugged the bottle empty.
"To forget what?" I was already feeling sorry for her. I couldn't decipher why people drink until they can't think straight.
"That I am ashamed!" She hiccupped and did her best to blink her eyes fully. "Why do you ask a lot of things, little man?"
"Ashamed of what?" I demanded, trying to understand her reasons.
"Ashamed of drinking!"
How circular, I thought as I grabbed the cord. "I'm certainly not thinking like grown-ups. I shall tell grandpa about this thing." Feeling sorry for this tippler that I never heard her name, the birds took me somewhere else.
The next planet belonged to a businessman. His face was almost buried on his papers as he grumbled incoherently. His golden hair reminded me of my grandfather's hair when he was not as old as he was right now, and I had my hopes that man was unlike the previous men I met, albeit he had not noticed my arrival.
"Good morning," I told him. "Your cigarette has gone out."
He still didn't raise a head to acknowledge my presence. Instead, he grumbled what appeared to be a computation to me and continued still, until he finally threw his head up and said, "phew! Then that makes five-hundred-and-one-billion, six-hundred-twenty-two-million, seven-hundred-thirty-thousand, eight-hundred-seventy-and seven."
His purple eyes meet my gaze, his brows furrowed as soon as he saw me. "Good morning, are you the one who greeted me?" Before I could answer he looked back on his papers and began computing again.
"Five hundred billion what?" I asked.
But he grumbled again, carefully adding numbers I don't know what. "Eh? You won't leave yet? My great grandfather told me that you disturbed him from counting stars before. Am I to suffer the same fate? Five-hundred-and-one-billion . . . I can't stop! My grandfathers are concerned with the matters of consequence and I have no time for twaddles. Six-hundred-twenty-two-million . . ."
"Five hundred billion what?" I repeated. I never liked it when people leave me puzzled when they say things foreign to me—my grandfather was a different talk, though.
This time he sighed in exasperation as he raised his head to me. It was clear that he was crossed—all grown-ups were easily crossed anyway—and the sharp look his purple eyes were giving me was austere. If looks could slice things into three, I must have been sliced into three.
"During the twenty years I inhabited this planet, I have been disturbed only thrice. First was when a woman from the neighboring planet offered me a glass of drink that knocked me out for the entire day! Imagine how many things I lost count that time! Fortunately, I convinced her to move to the next planet. The second time, it was right after that woman, I was unable to get up the next day because my head was spinning and hammering. And the third time — I was just saying it, but you came here just like what you did to my great grandfather. I was about to say five-hundred-and-one-billions . . ."
"I am not the kid who disturbed your great grandfather," I frowned at him like how I frowned to King Kaito, Gakupo, and the drunken woman. "But billions of what?"
The businessman heavily slammed his hands on his tables, taking his eyes away from his paper to scrutinize me. "You are the little prince. You are still little, who else can you be?"
"I am little because I am a boy. My name is Len. I am the little prince's grandson—and he is no longer little, he is old. Well, he is my grandfather." He looked interested and amused. "And billions of what?"
When I asked the same question, the businessman's brows almost bumped. He swiftly winced and let out a sigh as if he realized that I wouldn't give up until I heard a proper answer. "Alright, uh—grandson-of-the-little-prince—"
"You can call me Len,"
"Okay," his eyes narrowed. "Len, I am Nero and I am a businessman. You see, I am busy counting those 'billions of little things', which you usually see from the sky."
"Oh! Flies?"
"No, the glowing ones." He sounded crossed again.
"Oh! Fireflies?"
"No," he snapped in a surly manner. "Those things glowing in the sky that draw men to wish and hope and rely on nothing but false hopes." His hand brushed his golden fringe up, and then he looked back at me. " 'Little golden objects that set lazy men to idle dreaming. I am concerned with the matters of consequence. There is no time for idle dreaming in my life.' My great grandfather surely told the little prince the same thing."
"Ah, the stars!" I exclaimed.
"That's it! The stars!"
"What do you do with five-hundred billions of stars?"
"Five-hundred-and-one-billion, six-hundred-twenty-two-million, seven-hundred-thirty-thousand, eight-hundred-seventy-and-seven—stars. I am concerned with the matter of consequences. I am accurate."
I don't understand why he was too proud of counting things accurately, even if he could not touch it. "And what do you do with these stars?"
"What do I do with them?"
I nodded, patiently waiting for an answer.
"Nothing. I own them." Nero answered.
That surprised me. "Own? King Kaito already—"
"Kings do not own stars, they reign over them. That's a different matter."
"Then your property is under the rule of the king, and that makes you King Kaito's subordinate. I see. What good does it do to you? To own stars?"
"It makes me rich!"
"What's good with being rich?"
His gesture took in the stars his arms could seemingly hold and said, "I am able to buy new stars, if any are newly discovered. Back then, my great grandfather owned five-hundred-and-one-million . . . "
I never listened to him and his accurate counting as I looked around to see nothing but papers piled up side by side. All his life he was only listing down the figures that would indicate his affluence. This piles of paper showed how his grandfathers did the same thing.
But maybe the tippler-woman had affected his reasoning, for he rationalized as circular as the drunken woman. Nevertheless, that didn't stop me from asking what prick my curiosity.
"My grandfather would always stare at the starry sky. Since you own the stars, can you talk to them?"
"Why would I talk to them! I told you, I am concerned with the matter of consequence. Talking to them is a waste of time! They're nothing special," he answered.
I actually had my hopes high for I thought he knew what is there in the starry sky. But whatever he just said now, it doesn't make sense to me. "If stars are nothing special, why did your grandfathers waste a lifetime counting and owning them? If it's nothing special, then what you are doing too is nothing special."
He opened his mouth to say something, but I turned around hearing the fluttering of the wings that announced my departure. Before he could say anything, I interrupted him. "You are no use to them, and they are no use to you other than being markers of richness — of nothing special. Good-bye, Mr. Nero." The birds hoisted me from the ground. "Grown-ups are certainly altogether extraordinary. I'm utterly different from them."
The fifth planet was very odd. It was the smallest of all planet I visited—smaller than B-612. There was just enough space for a lamp post and a lamplighter, but I couldn't find a reason why they had to be there when there were no houses and no people. The lamplighter looked calm but something was going on. Though she looked absurd, she was probably more sensible than King Kaito, Gakupo the show-off, Mr. Nero the businessman, and Ms. Tippler.
"Lighting a lamp amid the nothingness is like lighting stars and setting them to sleep. She might know why grandfather is always looking at the starry sky!" The birds brought me down, and they perched on my shoulders and feet. We were crammed. "H'llo," I greeted. "Why have you just put out your lamp?"
"Those are my orders," she replied and glanced at me as she brought down her staff. "Hello. You must be the little prince?"
And for the fifth time, I frowned. The birds were surely taking me to places where my grandfather had visited once. "I am not the little prince, I am his grandson. My name is Len. What are your orders?" There were no other souls here aside from us, so who gave her the orders?
"To put out my lamp. Goodnight," she said and re-lit the lamp by raising the lit staff. "By the way, I am Gumi. The old lamplighter had told me about your grandfather." Her voice sounded sad and tired, perhaps exhausted from putting out and illuminating her only lamp. It must be a tough job.
"But you just re-lit it? I don't understand."
"Those are my orders," she yawned and rubbed her eyes with her hands. "Orders are orders, nothing to understand. Hello," she weakly smiled to me.
And she put out her lamp.
"This job is terribly simple. When I came here to replace the old lamplighter, it used to be simple. All I have to do was to put the lamp out by morning and re-lit it in the evening. Then, I have the all day for myself to relax."
While she talked, her face made the expressions I hadn't seen from the people I met earlier . . . but she somehow looked cross like the businessman, however she was not irritated to me like Mr. Nero.
"And have your orders changed?" The birds flew down on the ground and pecked on the cold dry ground. When she replied, her voice startled the birds and they flew away from me.
"No! And that's the problem! The planet had rotated quicker every year—it was completing its spin once a minute. And the time passed so much, I have no time to rest." And it dawned to me the she was actually lazy, but still faithful on her job.
"You are turning a blind eye on your work, and yet you complain. If you are tired," I looked around to check the little planet, "you can walk a few steps and it will be 'day' again. You can rest, just move around."
"I just want to rest all day. Look! We are already talking for a month! Thirty minutes is thirty days!"
"That is funny," I chuckled.
"It isn't," she countered, lifting up her lit shaft to the post. "Good night. What I like best is sleeping. You can tell that I'm very tired."
I only nodded and twirled around. My hand reached the back of my head and scratched it—my hands had grown bigger. Am I beginning to grow up? I actually like this lamplighter. My grandfather might have liked the old lamplighter, too. She is faithful to her work, and she can see many sunsets!
"That's bad luck." I grabbed the cord as the birds flapped their wings.
"It is," she sighed and put out the lamp. "Good morning."
She and I could be friends, for she wasn't as conceited as Gakupo, and wasn't as circular as Mr. Nero and the tippler, neither as proud as King Kaito. But her place was too small, there was no room for two.
"Goodbye, Gumi."
"Goodbye," she lit the lamp again. "Have a safe trip, little prince." For the second time, I frowned at her. I am not the little prince.
The sixth planet was the biggest place I had seen. It was six times bigger than the previous ones combined altogether. It was inhabited by a weary looking man, his hair was still black and it was brushed up. His high forehead told me that he had loads of ideas stored in his head.
When the birds dropped me, I felt like I never had tasted air. I was tired, probably more exhausted than Gumi the lamplighter, for I had travelled such a long way! I lost count of how many days and nights that had passed by as the birds flew me from place to place. I quickly laid back on the ground and sighed.
"Well, look at what we have here! An explorer!" He leaned forward on his table to peer down at me. "Where do you come from, little man?" He asked politely.
"Call me Len. What is that big fat book?" I asked. "What are you doing?"
"I am called Big Al, and I am a geographer. From my grandfather's journal, I see no records saying that the little prince has a name." He ducked out of his seat to rummage to lower drawers, until he raised an old journal bound with thin straw.
"For I am not the little prince," I sat up and propped my palms on the ground. It was a big planet, clean and pretty. "What is a 'geographer'?"
"A scholar who knows where the mountains, the river, the towns, the seas, and the deserts are." He was busy flipping the yellow pages of the old journal as he answered. Now, that was a real occupation.
"How brilliant! So where are the rivers in this place?"
"I don't know."
I shot him a puzzled look even though he wouldn't raise his head to me. "I thought you know where those things are?"
"I never have left this seat. What I do is to list them down here," he pointed the big book, "here in this big fat book. Finding them is the 'explorers" work, not mine."
"You're utterly ironic," I commented.
"That's the division of labor. Ah—you are the prince, the descriptions in my grandfather's journal are accurate. The muffler, the golden hair, the curiosity and all! He never wrote you're named Len!" Big Al quickly grabbed his pen and scribbled something on that brittle page, and he looked satisfied after doing so. "Well, pray do tell me how does your place look like now,"
"Before I may tell you so, I want you to know that I am not the little prince. The child who visited your grandfather long ago was my grandfather. I am Len, and I am not the little prince." I frowned at him as though he was a replica of all people I met from previous planets. "My place is a tiny dwelling. We have three volcanoes; two are active, one is extinct. My grandpa is taking care of his rose."
"We don't write roses—or any flowers, or plants, probably." He opened the big fat book and nodded for some reason I don't know. "It hasn't changed." He mumbled.
"Why do you not write them?"
"They are ephemeral."
"What does that mean?"
Big Al tilted his face to look at me intently, smiling like a noble gentleman he was. "You asked the same question,"
"It's my first time asking. What does that mean—'ephemeral'?" I repeated.
"Geographies," he began, "are the books which, of all books, are most concerned with matters of consequences. They are timeless. Thus, we write down eternal things—not the ones with short lives. A mountain will never move, an ocean will rarely empty itself of its waters."
"But my grandfather's volcano may come back to life—you'll never know." I scowled at him, realizing that he was not different with the other people I met earlier. He wouldn't know what the stars tell to my father as well.
"I am concerned with mountains," he clicked his pen.
"My grandfather's flower is blooming again and again," I interrupted. "Isn't that a cycle? It will remain." I paused a little and pondered on things. "If you are concerned with eternal things, then why did your grandfather wrote something about my grandpa? Isn't human memory short-lived and fickle, too?"
"Humans are ephemeral, too. Just like your grandfather's rose. We don't write humans—just memories. Memories stay but not humans."
I looked at him with bewilderment. It only meant one thing — it could not mean anything. My grandfather is ephemeral. And unlike his rose, he wouldn't be born again in the physical world and his memories would be the only thing left to me. It sunk my heart, the truth about his gray locks, his frail body, and his smiles. Why did he want me to leave him there to know all these?
"Do you . . ." and my voice surprisingly sounded sullen like my heart. "Do you know a good place where I can go?"
Big Al flipped the pages of his big fat book and said, "you may go to Earth, your grandfather reported that it was a great place." He smiled at me. I see no reason to return that smile. "Len, I hope you will find the reason why the little prince was staring at the black sea of universe."
Before I could ask how he learned why I was wandering, the birds pulled me away from his planet.
Shirai Hisaishi: I have this story idea in my writing journal since February so I finally decided to write this one. It's supposed to be a one shot story but I'm too lazy to put all the awesomeness of 'Le Petit Prince' in a one shot. This is a spin-off from the classic book 'Le Petit Prince' obviously. This chapter/part was surely an almost-replica of the original work (and honestly, it's hard to stay faithful with the original writing style). I don't own Le Petit Prince nor Vocaloids — and this is retold in my perspective while borrowing few statements from the original piece.