Chapter 5 — Assumption
And thus begins Chapter Five.
Now, children.
There I sat.
Still.
For a long while.
Not because I was waiting for anything.
Not officially.
Not because there was some grand objective requiring patience.
I simply
liked it.
Dog on one side.
Dog on the other.
Beach.
Sun.
Waves.
Peace.
The council smiles.
A suspiciously functional afternoon.
Yes.
No transport crisis.
No burning vehicle.
No livestock labour.
No naked balcony evacuation.
Just
sit.
Scratch dog.
Scratch other dog.
Watch sea.
Children.
Sometimes even Nuo gets a normal chapter.
Temporarily.
Now.
There is another possibility.
And because the Archive values honesty,
I must acknowledge it.
The council narrows its eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
Subconsciously
was I also staying because Hat and No Hat would eventually return?
Pause.
Possible.
Very possible.
Children.
I liked them.
That much was already obvious.
We had barely spent any time together,
but enough to establish:
Hat
interesting.
No Hat
adorable Golden Retriever.
Conversation
easy.
Vibe
good.
And so perhaps some tiny part of my brain thought:
They’ll probably come back this way.
The council leans forward.
Attractive blonde women.
Yes.
I know what you’re implying.
Could that have influenced the subconscious equation?
Certainly.
I am not a monk.
The council checks several previous Wanderings.
Extremely documented.
Thank you.
But children
irrelevant variable.
Not nonexistent.
Irrelevant.
Like chilli flakes on pizza.
The council pauses.
Explain.
Pizza?
Already delicious.
Add chilli flakes?
Maybe better.
Do you require the chilli flakes for pizza to remain pizza?
No.
Exactly.
Hat and No Hat being attractive?
Chilli flakes.
Nice.
Appreciated.
But remove that entirely?
Same result.
Children.
For all I cared,
they could have visually been two Nuos wearing blonde wigs.
The council recoils.
Disturbing image.
Very.
But if the personalities remained identical?
Hat still understood memento mori.
No Hat still possessed Golden Retriever Energy.
Conversation still flowed.
No Hat still asked where Lighthouse Beach was while the lighthouse towered behind her.
Would I subconsciously hope they returned?
Absolutely.
The council accepts the evidence.
So no
I was not sitting there constructing elaborate fantasies.
No:
Perhaps I shall seduce Hat.
No:
Perhaps No Hat and I shall disappear behind some coconut trees.
Children.
Please.
My brain had not developed a Bonk Quest.
If an opportunity naturally presented itself?
The council sighs.
Of course.
Children.
I am a man.
If mutually desirable opportunity arrives,
one considers opportunity.
Simple logic.
But chase?
No.
Expect?
No.
Wait specifically for?
Also no.
There were two dogs.
This is important.
The dogs alone justified remaining exactly where I was.
The council nods.
Strong argument.
So I stayed.
Content.
The day had already paid for itself.
Remember
motive:
boredom.
Success condition?
No longer bored.
Accomplished.
Children.
I could have gone home right then
and still considered the Wandering worthwhile.
Instead
wave.
Scratch.
Sun.
Scratch.
Nothing.
Beautiful.
And eventually
Hat and No Hat returned.
The council looks toward the shoreline.
No dramatic reunion.
Correct.
No:
“Oh my god, you’re still here!”
No surprise.
No awkward:
Hey again.
They simply
walked toward me.
As if there had never really been a separation.
Children.
That detail matters to me.
Because somewhere during the short walk to Lighthouse Beach,
the temporary party had become stable enough that their return did not require renegotiation.
They saw me.
Came over.
I saw them.
Stayed.
Simple.
Then
plop.
Hat took one side.
No Hat the other.
Conveniently,
each near one of the dogs.
The council examines formation.
Dog.
Woman.
Nuo.
Woman.
Dog.
Something like that.
Broadly.
A complete beach ecosystem.
Hat said something about the swim.
Fun.
Nice.
Good.
The exact wording is already lost despite this being yesterday.
Children.
See?
Fresh memory does not preserve everything either.
Normal sentence?
Brain deletes immediately.
Bald man shitting in ocean ten years ago?
Permanent.
The council once again curses human memory.
But the message was:
Swimming successful.
Excellent.
Guide Quest?
Completed.
No Hat?
Children.
No Hat saw dog.
And
Dog Protocol.
The council rises.
Ah.
This was her moment.
She interacted.
Pet.
Scratch.
Play.
Immediate affection.
Golden Retriever recognizes fellow canine.
The council smiles.
And inside my head
promotion.
No Hat,
previously classified as:
Golden Retriever Friend.
Now additionally:
Woman Of Culture.
Golden Retriever Edition.
Children.
There are many ways to demonstrate refinement.
Hat recognized memento mori.
No Hat recognized dog.
Both valid.
Perhaps equally valid.
The council approves unanimously.
I watched her with the strays.
Happy.
Completely natural.
No hesitation over:
street dog.
Dirty.
Unknown.
No.
Dog exists.
Pet dog.
Simple.
My people.
Children.
That tiny thing immediately increased compatibility points.
Because there are certain moral systems Nuo does not negotiate.
Dog Protocol sits very high among them.
So No Hat played with the dogs.
And Hat?
Conversation.
Again.
The rhythm returned almost immediately.
No small talk.
Still no:
By the way, what is your name?
Children.
We had progressed beyond names without ever acquiring them.
At this point asking felt almost bureaucratic.
The Ancient Naming System had already solved the problem.
Hat.
No Hat.
Done.
The council sighs.
Someday you will learn government identification.
Maybe.
Not today.
So Hat and I talked.
Then
new query.
“Parasailing?”
Pause.
The council opens local tourism database.
Empty.
She asked whether it was available this season.
And children
officially
I had no idea.
None.
I had already exhausted my one useful ten year old Kovalam memory.
Safe swimming beach?
Yes.
Stored.
Current parasailing operations during monsoon?
Absolutely not.
I looked toward the sea.
Maybe toward the weather.
Toward the general absence of obvious parasailing people.
And performed
deduction.
Possibly not.
The council raises an eyebrow.
Evidence?
Monsoon.
Swimming restrictions in many sections.
Sea conditions.
No obvious parachute humans currently dangling above water.
Children.
Reasonable inference.
Not certainty.
So I told her
probably not.
Something along those lines.
And Hat responded:
“Can we check?”
Pause.
The council turns slowly toward Nuo.
Oh no.
Yes.
Children.
There it was.
The assumption of competence.
A dangerous thing.
I had successfully completed
one task.
One.
They asked:
Where can we swim?
I remembered a beach.
We arrived.
No warning signs.
They swam.
Success.
And apparently this had upgraded Nuo in Hat’s mental system from:
Random Sleep Deprived Local Man
to:
Person Who Knows Kovalam.
The council checks credentials.
Years since last meaningful visit:
Approximately ten.
Current navigation knowledge:
Minimal.
Tourism information:
Unverified.
Government certification:
None.
Yet
Tour Guide.
Children.
This is what happens when you accidentally perform competently in public.
Expectations form.
I should have failed earlier.
The council laughs.
“Can we check?”
Now.
Could I have said:
No clue, ask someone.
Yes.
Could I have pointed at the nearest tourism desk and returned to Dog Paradise?
Absolutely.
Would that have been sensible?
Probably.
But children
I was Wandering.
The entire philosophy was:
Let’s see what happens.
And now something was happening.
Hat and No Hat had generated a new side quest.
Parasailing.
Available?
Unknown.
Find out.
The council updates.
QUEST ACQUIRED:
Investigate Parasailing.
PARTY:
Nuo.
Hat.
No Hat.
QUALIFIED GUIDE:
Nobody.
PERCEIVED QUALIFIED GUIDE:
Nuo.
Dangerous discrepancy.
Exactly.
And so
“Yeah.”
Or equivalent.
Agreement.
Children.
The dogs had been excellent company.
Would continue being excellent without me.
I gave whatever final scratches were required.
Good boy.
Other good boy.
Dog Protocol temporarily concluded.
Then
up.
Sand.
Bracelet wakes.
Click clack.
Click clack.
And just like that,
my peaceful plop had become employment.
Unpaid employment.
The council pauses.
Did they hire you?
No.
Did they ask you to be guide?
Not explicitly.
Did you begin functioning as one?
Yes.
Then
day long employment.
Children.
My career prospects had improved dramatically.
Yesterday:
Writer.
Today:
Kovalam Tour Guide.
Qualifications:
Has been here before.
Can see lighthouse.
Owns loud bracelet.
The council laughs.
And perhaps there is something very Nuo about this progression.
I came with nothing to do.
No itinerary.
No purpose.
No company.
Within maybe an hour
I had two companions
and responsibilities.
Not serious responsibilities.
But still.
Hat wanted parasailing.
No Hat was presumably willing to follow wherever Hat and Nuo wandered next.
And I
apparently
was now expected to know where to look.
Children.
This is how outsourcing reverses.
Usually,
I find a competent person
and follow them.
Hex.
Planning Department.
Local friend.
Random guide.
Today?
The foreigners had looked around Kovalam,
selected the jingling homeless looking man,
asked one question,
received one competent answer,
and decided:
Yes.
This one will manage us.
The council studies the irony.
How does it feel?
Concerning.
Very concerning.
Because I knew the truth.
I was not managing anything.
I was improvising with confidence.
Children.
There is a tremendous difference between knowing the route
and pointing decisively while hoping.
Present Nuo understands this well.
Story Nuo yesterday?
Also understood.
Very much.
But there was no need to tell them.
Not yet.
The council objects.
Transparency?
If asked directly,
I would say I didn’t know.
And I did.
Parasailing?
“Possibly not.”
Honesty maintained.
We were simply going to check.
That is legitimate.
The council reluctantly allows it.
So we stood.
Hat.
No Hat.
Nuo.
And began moving again.
No schedule.
No planned destination.
Just
find parasailing information.
The dogs remained behind.
The sea continued.
The sun remained ambitious.
And my bracelet resumed soundtrack duties.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
Children.
The Wandering had transformed quietly.
I had arrived intending only to walk.
Then became accidental swimming advisor.
Then philosophical bracelet lecturer.
Then dog sitter to nobody.
And now
tour guide.
The council opens employment record.
SHIFT START:
Approximately now.
PAY:
Zero.
BENEFITS:
Interesting company.
Potential chilli flakes?
Irrelevant.
Correct.
Do not corrupt the metaphor.
Hat walked with me.
No Hat walked with us.
And perhaps there is another reason I agreed.
Not because they were attractive.
Not primarily.
Not because I desperately wanted company.
I had been perfectly content alone.
But because
I liked the party.
Children.
Some groups require effort.
You monitor yourself.
Choose words carefully.
Fill silences.
Try to appear interesting.
This one?
No.
Hat and I could discuss death symbols.
No Hat could happily pet dogs.
I could mock her lighthouse navigation.
Nobody seemed offended.
Nobody required performance.
Easy.
And easy company is rare enough that when it appears,
you don’t immediately rush away from it.
The council nods.
So yes.
Perhaps I stayed for them.
Perhaps they stayed with me because I appeared useful.
Both could be true.
Motives need not be singular.
Children.
Human beings are not quest descriptions.
We contain several reasons at once.
One might be:
I enjoy their personalities.
Another:
They’re attractive.
Another:
I have nowhere else to be.
Another:
Parasailing sounds like a thing worth checking.
Another:
I am already standing up.
The council accepts the complexity.
And off we went.
A guide who did not know Kovalam.
A woman who assumed he did.
And a Golden Retriever who, from all available evidence,
was simply delighted that the group was moving somewhere again.
Children.
Perfect party composition.
Hat supplied objectives.
Nuo supplied unjustified confidence.
No Hat supplied morale.
The council looks ahead.
Dangerous.
Promising.
Same thing sometimes.
And this is where the day truly stopped being:
Nuo visits Kovalam.
Because from this point onward,
I was no longer merely walking wherever my feet chose.
I had accidentally become part of someone else’s day.
Their question created my next direction.
My answers shaped theirs.
Children.
That is what strangers do sometimes.
They enter the road
and suddenly your Wandering becomes plural.
Not permanently.
Not dramatically.
Just
for now.
And for now was enough.
Thus concludes Chapter Five.
The Long Peaceful Sit.
The Two Dogs.
The Honest Consideration Of Whether Nuo Was Subconsciously Waiting.
The Attractive Blonde Chilli Flake Variable.
The Terrifying Mental Image Of Two Nuos In Blonde Wigs.
The Complete Absence Of A Bonk Quest.
Hat And No Hat Returning.
The Natural Reassembly Of The Party.
The Swimming Report.
No Hat Initiating Dog Protocol.
The Golden Retriever Being Promoted To Woman Of Culture.
Hat’s New Question:
“Parasailing?”
Nuo’s Highly Qualified Assessment:
“Possibly not.”
The Follow Up:
“Can We Check?”
The Dangerous Assumption Of Competence.
The Accidental Promotion.
And
Nuo,
Tour Guide.
Children.
I had successfully answered one question.
One.
And that was apparently enough for Hat to entrust me with the next objective.
This is how careers begin.
Poorly.
And so I stood,
left the dogs behind,
and began my first shift
as the least qualified Kovalam tour guide in Kerala.
