The Temple of the Morning Brass Gong lay nestled in the
folds of a high mountain forest, shadowy and lush. Hidden
among its thick well-tended groves were four shrines,
dedicated to four different gods of silence.
The monk Huisheng was paying his respects to the least of
these when a sandal fell from the sky onto the ground before
it. The monk looked up and discovered a learnèd
brother—bound, gagged, and hoisted by ropes to dangle from
the upper limbs of a cypress tree. The prisoner was
frantically struggling against his bonds to attract
Huisheng’s attention.
It was the habit of Huisheng not to speak unless spoken to;
and since the prisoner was indisposed to speak at all,
Huisheng merely turned away again and knelt at the shrine,
the better to contemplate the scene.
—I have heard much today, thought Huisheng, concerning the
state of a critical nightly batch job.
—Many praised the design of the job; for it was said that if
any record could not be processed, a suitable email was sent
automatically to the Administrator and to all Parties
Concerned.
—Many admired the reliability of the job, and how it was
common for days to pass with no such message being sent.
—Many remarked upon the reticence of the job, and how it
sent messages only when it deemed there was some error in
need of correction. This trait I find particularly virtuous,
yet the abbot taking tea beside me spoke of it in tones of
lament...
Huisheng’s thoughts were broken by the sound of muffled
cries from above. Irritated, he cupped his hands over his
ears.
—The Protocols tell us of no fewer than Four Silences: the
Silence Before Words, the Silence Between Words, the Silence
of the Broken Pipe, and the Silence of Fallen Parcels. To
the initiate they are as different as the characters for
“end” and “not yet,” although the outsider cannot tell one
from the other.*
The unintelligible cries grew louder. Huisheng looked up to
see a snake slithering along the ropes toward the terrified
prisoner.
—It is curious, reflected Huisheng. The brother above has
not begged to be set free; nor has he entreated me to pitch
stones at the snake. Soon he will be dead. Then he will
continue to not-ask me these things, albeit in a different
way. If I leave this place, he will not-ask me in a
different way altogether.
—There is a lesson here in this monk’s correction, though I
have not yet divined what it is.
Thus, whistling a tune, did Huisheng depart the shrine.
