January 15th, 1963
Mr. Mattew Bowen
42 Westwood, Broughton
North Linconshire
Dear Matthew,
Do you remember the conversation
we had the last time we saw each other a few months back? About the possibility
that you might seriously invest in being an inventor. Well this idea has fascinated me since we
spoke about it, mostly because it has made me somewhat unsure about you. I’ve
been toying with why it has made me uncomfortable about seeing you again and a
few nights ago I realized what it was.
After the usual bit of reading, and once the candle had melted entirely onto
the wood I managed to slip off into a very deep sleep. And Matthew, I had the
most peculiar dream. In it you were standing on a staircase above me with a
hammer in one hand and a book of instructions penned by yourself in the other.
And as hard as I tried to climb and reach the top of the staircase I couldn’t seem
to reach your height. Eventually I got exhausted and collapsed at which point
you simply laughed at me! You are most probably laughing now, but I must assert the
seriousness of how I felt at the moment. The indignation and insecurity that
pressed me to the bed each time you laughed down at me. I awoke sweating and
terribly afraid of my own abilities and I began thinking a great deal about our
conversation from before. See Matthew, the thing that astonishes me about
inventors is the complication that comes with the idea that one can play god. How
designs and blueprints and structures can all form under your fingers to
amalgamate into a thing of beauty and a thing of function. And a thing that has
both those qualities, function and beauty, is then a thing of greatness. In a
microscopic sense, you have created something that serves a purpose. A structure
that validates your genius and power. And in those structures, aside from the
calculations that went into the thickness and length of the wood or the
curvature of the knob the question is does it reveal something to you? Does it
reveal a secret about your leadership and your visions for the future? I am no inventor because I am not good at
building from scratch. Clay and craft and brick never form under my hand. I am
no inventor because my forte is the process of taking ideas that already are and
then reforming it to make it mine. It can easily be confused for invention if
done with finesse, but it is actually adaptation and re-iteration. And thus I have realized that I am terrified
of seeing you again, for if you really are an inventor now, you are much more
powerful than me. At least in whatever way I measure power. If you have truly
invested in this craft and become successful, then I’m afraid our friendship
will forever remain in a loop in which I fear you may somehow know more than
me. That you may know more about the rules that are bound to this world and
have found some way to be a part of the process of creation. I fear that our
friendship will deteriorate to a level in which I constantly wonder what
secrets you know about being utterly novel and what you have discovered in
those long nights in which you pour over your constructions.
I hope I have not offended you Mattew. In some ways, fearing
you is the greatest compliment I can give you. I await your reply.
Sincerely,
Your friend the writer
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