Apologies to E.M. Forster...
The end of the world is in a house near Bowlegs, Oklahoma. Every year, a holy man asks his students to visit the house, a dilapidated, shotgun shack on a half acre just south of Bowlegs. The students are not given explicit instructions. Rather, they are told to take food for a day's journey, water for an additional night, and a candle with matches. The standard question is "Will I need to spend the night, master?" The holy man shrugs and says, "I don't know."
"What do I seek there, master?"
Again, the shrug. "You seek the end."
"The end of what?"
Shrug. No answer.
The students go one at a time to the house, each on a different night of the month of their completing the program of study. Most leave after a few hours. Some find the tenacity to spend the entire evening. All begin with the investigation of the rooms. Those who don't stay all night do not complete their program. They typically don't care that they fail.
The first room is the living room. There is nothing in it. The second room, down a short hall, is the master bedroom. It contains a chair. The students typically sit in it and listen closely to the silence. It remains silence. Beyond the master bedroom is a bathroom. Its very functionality assures the students that nothing is to be learned there. Down the hall is a smaller bedroom. It contains the frame of a bed with springs still intact. Students typically recline on the bed and listen dutifully to the silence. It remains silence.
Upon leaving the small bedroom, students make their way back down the hall, and upon turning left, find the kitchen. The cabinet doors are closed. The diligent student will open them all and find nothing. Even the tap handles on the sink yield nothing but an airy squeal. The nicotine-colored stain on the floor where the refrigerator used to be is normally searched with proper attention to pareidolia. No symbols, animals, or recurring patterns are found. The most stubborn of students will make his way back to the living room, light his candle, and sit down to wait for whatever revelation of the end is to be found.
The silence remains silence long into the night and long after the candle is extinguished. As dawn breaks, the hardiest make their way to the door, inclining their heads toward the house's interior just in case the reward is given to the persistent. The silence remains silence. The master is waiting for them on the porch.
"What did you discover in the house, student?" He asks.
"Rooms, master."
"And in the rooms, student?"
"In one was a chair. In one was a bed frame. All others were empty."
"And in the emptiness?"
Finally the student feels trapped. The worst will remain puzzled, staring at the master with befuddlement. The honest will say, "Nothing, master." The rest, determined to take a lesson from their sojourn at the end of the world, will say/ask: "God?"
The master will shake his head. "What did God say to you, student?"
The student will realize his folly too late. The best of them will say: "I heard my own questions, master."
