
Watch making was Harold’s passion in life; it was all that he knew. He made his watches with fastidious care, pouring over every detail until the end result was flawless. There was a certain tranquility in it, each piece finding its designated location, each piece working in flawless harmony with those around it. Once each watch was finished he would stare for hours as the gears moved, all coming together in a symphony of order. Harold worked day after day in his little shop. He had never made large profits. In fact, he had never made any profits at all. He wasn’t in it for the money, he just hoped that the people who took his watches home would care for them as much as he did.
His latest creation had taken much longer than the rest. Not because Harold was having trouble with it but because he wanted to do it justice. He had never made a watch
so intricate before. Every piece fit together so precisely that any error, no matte how minute would cause the entire device to fall into chaos. With the utmost precision he gently positioned the final gear and connected the battery. He held his breath, as the gears sprang to life, praying that he had not made a mistake. The gears, however, fit together seamlessly and he gazed in awe at the exquisiteness of his creation, a true homage to order.
The next day, in his little shop, a man walked in that Harold had never seen before. Instantly, Harold could tell this was a man of taste. He was tall and thin with a thick head of mahogany hair, not a single one out of place. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, gray with black pinstripes and ironed to perfection. There was not a wrinkle or a smudge that could be seen without a microscope. The man was dressed so cleanly and with such meticulousness that Harold knew instantly what he wanted. Harold retreated to his workshop and returned holding his masterpiece.
“It is my finest creation,” Harold said, gazing longingly at his watch, “I can tell that a man of your fine taste can appreciate such a wonderfully ordered piece of machinery.”
“I’ll take it,” the man said, distractedly flicking a particle of dust that had managed to find purchase on his immaculate suit coat.
“If you’d like I could add a warranty,” Harold Asked, “If the watch ever breaks I can fix it for you free of charge”
“That won’t be necessary,” The man said, and with that he raised the watch high above his head. In a moment of horror Harold realized what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to protest but could not make a sound. With one swift motion the man brought Harold’s masterpiece careening to the floor of the little shop. Harold watched, dumbstruck, as his creation shattered, each gear he had worked so painstakingly to position now flying in every direction.
“Is that not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?” the man said as Harold stood there, arms hanging limp at his sides. “Order is all well and good but the only true pleasure lies in chaos.” LS
His latest creation had taken much longer than the rest. Not because Harold was having trouble with it but because he wanted to do it justice. He had never made a watch
so intricate before. Every piece fit together so precisely that any error, no matte how minute would cause the entire device to fall into chaos. With the utmost precision he gently positioned the final gear and connected the battery. He held his breath, as the gears sprang to life, praying that he had not made a mistake. The gears, however, fit together seamlessly and he gazed in awe at the exquisiteness of his creation, a true homage to order.
The next day, in his little shop, a man walked in that Harold had never seen before. Instantly, Harold could tell this was a man of taste. He was tall and thin with a thick head of mahogany hair, not a single one out of place. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, gray with black pinstripes and ironed to perfection. There was not a wrinkle or a smudge that could be seen without a microscope. The man was dressed so cleanly and with such meticulousness that Harold knew instantly what he wanted. Harold retreated to his workshop and returned holding his masterpiece.
“It is my finest creation,” Harold said, gazing longingly at his watch, “I can tell that a man of your fine taste can appreciate such a wonderfully ordered piece of machinery.”
“I’ll take it,” the man said, distractedly flicking a particle of dust that had managed to find purchase on his immaculate suit coat.
“If you’d like I could add a warranty,” Harold Asked, “If the watch ever breaks I can fix it for you free of charge”
“That won’t be necessary,” The man said, and with that he raised the watch high above his head. In a moment of horror Harold realized what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to protest but could not make a sound. With one swift motion the man brought Harold’s masterpiece careening to the floor of the little shop. Harold watched, dumbstruck, as his creation shattered, each gear he had worked so painstakingly to position now flying in every direction.
“Is that not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?” the man said as Harold stood there, arms hanging limp at his sides. “Order is all well and good but the only true pleasure lies in chaos.” LS