Story (3) The Border

Karl had a map of every state saved on his laptop, only 5 minutes and he could use his mobile internet hookup to connect anywhere for mapquest, googlemaps, or any other tool created for geographically-challenged folks like himself. Paradoxically, he also promised himself that they would not be used unless in most dire necessity.

The State. That sounded wrong to Karl. He had been instilled with the proper respect for legitimate authorities, and he never committed any grossly illegal crimes, but one thing Karl hated was government. As a philosopher he got some of Locke's theories about 'sacred property rights' and as an R.C. he got "Rerum Novarum" and the warnings against 'godless communism', but at a soul-level, he didn't believe in State authority. Not a violent one, nor a revolutionary one, but an anarchist nonetheless Karl was; like the Amish really.

It was with this intellectual frustration, coupled with the natural fear of force that had Karl worried as he approached the border. In these moments of life where one feels stress, it's to Tradition that a man flees, what their father taught them, what they've learned in life right or wrong. So from previous Authorities based on seemingly ridiculous claims, Karl began to worry/pray: 'Please don't be a woman, women are always tougher, trying to assert their power, please let the guard be right about to leave the shift, please let me say something funny that will put them at ease, mention religion and they'll leave you alone...' and in this manner Karl continued to hope.

However, as it always seems to, the Dark Providence of Fate ordained that Karl should get a young female border guard, on the first day of her job, with a supervisor, and little traffic behind him. Perfect. Now there was nothing left for Karl to do, he didn't even have a real story planned out.



---

"Passport or valid photo identification please" ordered the faux-bold young lady
Karl handed his passport over.
"Citizenship...?" - the girl mumbled and immediately looked to her supervisor who informed her that this was the first question and that she was supposed to ask it before. Karl didn't know what he was supposed to do, as she now had his passport and could clearly tell his citizenship as well as all the 'important' facts of his life. The awkward silence could be cut with a knife, the young guard was flustered, and the supervisor was called away from the booth to deal with some other more pressing issue for the moment.

Against all his will, knowing he should focus, Karl began to silently ponder the idea of the passport, 'Kierkegaard said "if you label me, you negate me" , and what is a passport but a series of labels, the tightest definative box of all the data the world at large thinks is worth knowing about you, and-' his thought was cut off by the realization that she had asked another question ('purpose of your trip?'), trying to sound professional and stall as she looked for a script, or some list of protocol to save her from real human interaction.

Idiotically Karl said "Did you know what Kierkegaard said about labels?"
Utterly baffled she looked back at him scowling with disbelief.
"sorry, nevermind, not important.. um pleasure - that's the purpose of my trip - I'm just going to meet some friends" Karl stuttered.
"He said 'if you label me, you negate me'... it's in Wayne's World" She replied, almost trying to hide the fact that she knew, and yet still confused as to why he asked.

Further awkward silence. Cars had begun to line up behind Karl, stress built. The supervisor hurriedly returned and inquired as to her success and she straightened up and affirmed her work. He absent-mindedly handed Karl the passport and they began talking.

Miraculous. Miraculous was the only word Karl could think of as he drove away. They didn't ask him why he was going (shamefully, and ridiculously: To play a video game), how long he was staying (potentiallly: indefinately, which would've insured his swift return home), or who he was staying with (truthfully: an ogre shaman known as "Kastinkillz" who he had called 'Kast' for 5 years now). Things were looking up in an extraordinary way.

Out of respect and reverence Karl went to the only place he could think of right now to celebrate his successful transition from the lands of Queen Elizabeth II to the American Rebels, a nearby shrine he had been to with his on campus Catholic group.

It was 4:14 PM and as he pulled in, everyone seemed to be leaving Fatima shrine. He greeted the priest, was shriven, and lit a candle and said a prayer for his safe journey beneath an image of Papa JP II, the great philosopher-pope.

To many, Karl's behaviour would seem indescribably odd, insane, or just contradictory, but alongside "The Game" (as he liked to call Everquest), there were two things that always made him feel whole: Catholicism, and Philosophy.

Karl came from a background that always seemed normal enough in multi-cultural Scarborough where he grew up. He was adopted as an infant, and would never have known except for the clear racial difference. His father was an Indian Diplomat with a wonderful English accent and a classical education, he taught Karl to read younger than all of the other children at school and would quote political theorists from Aristotle and Hobbes and Rawls on any occasion. That is when he actually was in the country, which was rare as he was always travelling somewhere.

Karl's mother was the complete opposite, she seemed to lack a passion for anything. She had a long German lineage to which Karl owed his name (after his mother's grandfather who had been some kind of Army official in the Weimar republic). Though her marrying an Indian man, and his father's marrying of a Saxon woman, meant virtual exile from most of their respective families. All of them except Karl's maternal grandparents with whom he lived, scorned them for their 'unnatural' union. Karl could never understand how his mother, this passive and silent woman, who seemed so much a stranger to him even after all these years, had at one point possessed enough passion to defiantly act in love. It was a mystery.

And then there was Karl, with no shared genetics or heritage, physically and linguistically an Anglo, adopted into these two confused cultures and lives. Perhaps this confusion was why he felt at home in the racial hodgepodge of Catholicism. Certainly, it was why he fell in love with Philosophy. Karl thought of himself as Socrates had once, "neither Athenian nor Greek, but a citizen of the world". And like Socrates, he had spent his life trying to fulfill that ancient command inscribed on the temple of the oracle of Apollo at Delphi: "KNOW THYSELF"

As the sun set and he pulled into a rest stop - not even halfway through New York State yet - Karl was joyful. Anticipating for the first time in a long time, a new beginning, and in typical nerd-tradition he hummed the Star Wars theme and pretended he was on Tatooine as he stretched and watched the sun go down. That is, until some cute girls pulled up in a car next to him and he abruptly finished it.