Cobbleology

We’ve been walking for some time now, almost forty minutes, and though the day itself seemed calm, a looming sense of dread could be felt as we neared our destination. Our small group was approaching the precipice which divided present and future, and deep within that vast ravine lied every possibility at once; to reach across and grasp it required a plunge. It was clear to me, as though it were sent from a higher power, that I would be the one to grapple that infinite stretch of time and space, to hold it within my hand, and determine a course for us to follow. And, as we reached our destination, the time to seize this moment was nigh.

“This,” I said, pointing towards a small rock situated in the exact geographical center of Boulder, Colorado, “is not a boulder at all. It’s a cobblestone.”

A hushed gasp came from our small congregation, which had thus far been completely silent, voraciously listening to my analysis. Their expressions ranged from utter shock to anger, and fluctuated between these states as they collectively turned their attention towards the mayor, a large and bulbous man named Villy Hitchens.

“This has to be a mistake of some kind,” said Villy, who was now standing apart from the crowd. “This city has been founded on—no, divinely inspired by—the fact that this very boulder rested in the perfect clearing for a new American center. This boulder, our guiding light, has bound us together both then and now, so please, I believe that your characterization here is misplaced.”

“Oh, I am certain beyond any doubt that what you have here,” I said, gesturing towards the small rock, “is nothing short of a fabrication.”

“This can’t be true.”

“You hired me, flew me out here, and hosted me in your own home only to now doubt my analysis? Why? I’ve done as you asked, and can verifiably tell you that this city ought to be called Cobble, Colorado. As it is now, virtually any aspiring geologist would be able to point out the defect in its origin. This rock is indeed a rock, but it is no boulder, and that is beyond debate.”

“Beyond debate? Please, do not end this so, uh, un-scientifically. Is it possible that the standards by which rocks are classified into boulders, cobbles, and pebbles has changed since the city’s founding?”

“Not a chance.”

“Not one?”

“No.”

“Okay. Is is possible that you—your education, your certification, your credentials—are just simply mistaken? It happens to most of us from time-to-time.” Right then, Villy leaned in close and whispered hastily, “I’m certain that you can understand how much is at stake here.”

“Villy,” I said at full volume, “I don’t mean to be hyperbolic, but your case here is spiritually, morally, and academically depraved. This city has an identity crisis, and you’re at the center of it.”

He turned from me and gazed into the crowd, which had grown in both size and agitation since our arrival. “People,” he began, “please, do not incite an incident here. We’re only at the beginning of this mystery, and it’d be untoward of us to rush to any conclusion. Professor Marple here has been so kind to lend us his time, but I fear that his mental aptitude is simply lacking in this matter; no doubt his seemingly unending background in matters of geology is the result of affirmative action favoring the controversially-inclined, those being, namely and regrettably, the Welsh.”

I turned towards him in disgust. “Welsh? You’re just making things up now. Tell me, who among us graduated with the highest honors in rock identification? Who spent his youth travelling the deserts of Dasht-e-Kavir in pursuit of rocks the likes of which have never been seen before? Who was invited here to get to the bottom of this matter?”

Villy stared at me gravely. “A betrayer.”

The car ride back to Villy’s residence was quiet, but thick with tension. The air between us . . . it stung with hostility, and though I feel like I’d had some part in its escalation, I am otherwise absolving myself of bearing responsibility, if for no other reason than I was preyed upon with an assumption of being Welsh.

“Professor Marple,” Villy said, “that was heated.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Look at this city,” he motioned towards the window. “Watch as these people, lacking in something to believe in, drag their feet. They hang their heads low. We really needed a win today.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘winning’ when it comes to scientific rigor, Villy.”

“Your words may be true, but they drip with a lack of understanding.” He shook his head. “All these people, they’ve come here from all over . . . and for what? To be let down on a daily basis by its government? Somehow, my approval rating has fallen over the course of these past few years. Days like today really could’ve turned things around, had they gone the way I’d envisioned.”

“All right.”

He eyed me with despair. “Some say I was elected solely because my opponent was completely disintegrated in a head-on collision with my campaign bus, but I feel as though there’s more to it than that.” Villy turned towards me, “I think people voted me in to restore a sense of wonder in this city.”

“In Boulder, Colorado?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“All right. And you thought the best way to do so was to invite me to inspect your city’s rock?”

“I can hear the disbelief in your voice, and I can understand where it’s coming from, but I happen to believe in something greater than myself. I believe in our shared symbols.”

“The cobblestone?”

“The boulder.”

“From what I understand,” I began, “the classification of that rock . . . no one really contested that it was or wasn’t a boulder until you invited me over.”

“It’s nice to know some things for sure.”

“And this?”

“Well, not this particular time, no.”

We parked in his driveway, and as he pulled the keys out of the ignition, he sighed. “Things are changing here. This year is an election year and, well, I’m running short on ideas.”

“Okay.”

“They’ve suspended my Class B license after the accident that happened last election cycle, so I’m left with even fewer options at my disposal.”

“I can understand that, and I’m sorry for the predicament you’re in, but I’m unsure of what else to say.” Changing my tone, “Though, you may be excited to hear that my flight home is tomorrow, so I’ll be out of here soon.”

Villy paused for a moment. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, in the morning.”

He leaned towards me, our foreheads almost touching, “Professor Marple,” he whispered, “is there anything I can do to assuage your concerns about boulder classification? Can the rules be stretched just this once to save the founding mythos of this city?”

“No. I’ve done everything I can for you, Villy. But I cannot lie on this matter, not even once.”

Villy leaned back in the drivers seat, and sighed. “I guess that’s all there is to this.”

“Correct.”

There was a long pause between us. “Then,” he said, “let’s head inside.”

I eyed him. “Sure.”

We stepped out and walked towards his home. The sun was beginning to fall below the Rocky Mountains, and the amber sky was alive with passing, swirling clouds gliding above and away from us. Here, just before reaching for his front door, Villy beckoned me over towards a small garden next to his porch. “Have I taken the time to show you my little project here, Professor?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“This garden is what I have to look forward to after a long day of governing.”

“Hmm.”

“I can sit here, tend to the plants, and rearrange things as needed. I can think about things here.”

“Right.”

“Do you see these?” He gestured towards a few large rocks set around the plants. “Could you tell me, are any of these boulders?”

I sighed. “Perhaps, Villy.”

He bent over and hoisted one, bringing it closer to me. “And what about this one?”

“This one appears to be a boulder, yes.”

“Ah. So we’ve finally reached a consensus.” He then grunted, lifting the rock above his head. “And thank you for your analysis, Professor.” With a swift motion, he swung it downwards, crashing it into my skull, and sending me to the ground. I felt nothing, and have lost my awareness of time. I can only see the blackness now, a dark and cold embrace which has wrapped around my fingers, moving upwards. And now, I am gone.