The Man Who Hated The World (Animated Short Story)
The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. John Milton.
In a dirty prison cell, there lived a man who dedicated his whole life to isolating himself from the world. As opposed to most prisoners, he wasn’t put there against his will. This man voluntarily lived in a prison cell, knowing that he could walk out anytime he wanted. Nevertheless, he never tried.
“Why should I?” he told himself every time this annoying voice tried to persuade him to leave. “The world is a disgusting place,” he uttered. “And in here, at least I’m safe.” He was a loner, without a doubt. But he didn’t choose solitude because he loved his own company. He did it because he hated the world.
Every night he lay on a rotting mattress, witnessing cockroaches coming out of a black hole in the ceiling, and running across the walls. An enduring stench came out of the toilet where he washed as well. Although, he couldn’t remember the last time he did. Next to his pillow was a door made of steel bars, which led to a hallway. Apart from an occasional cough, and some footsteps during the day, the hallway was silent. Across from the door, there was a tiny window through which one could see the streets. But he rarely looked outside, as he couldn’t stand the view of it.
There wasn’t much in the world that he didn’t resent. He hated big crowds, he hated shopping centers, he hated parties, he hated cars, airplanes, and other motorized vehicles as he found them too dangerous to use. Still, there was one thing that he deeply enjoyed: the sea. Even though the sea was only a few kilometers away from where he lived, he had never seen it again since late childhood. Years ago he had decided not to go there anymore, as he had read about how the oceans are contaminated, and shorelines had become glorified dumping grounds. He could contract a disease, or die of intoxication.
The journey to the beach would be dangerous as well. He heard about the many traffic incidents and was terrified of dying in a crash or getting hit by a bus when crossing the streets. “So many troubles looming ahead,” he thought. In his cell, at least he was safe.
Nevertheless, he never succeeded in silencing his greatest enemy: that annoying voice that kept telling him to just leave his cell. “You should walk across town to the sea,” said the voice. “Leave me alone.”
“Why? Are you scared?”
“No, I’m not scared,” he answered. “Then, what are you waiting for?”
“It’s too risky.”
“So, you’re scared. Let’s make a deal. You go to the sea. If it’s truly as catastrophic outside as you believe it is, you win and I’ll shut up forever. But…if it’s not, I promise that you’ll have the most beautiful day of your life. Now, isn’t that a win-win situation?”
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. So, do we have a deal?”
“I do not seek confirmation for what I already know,” he answered. “So, shut up, and leave me be!”
The man who hated the world believed that he had attained something that others had not: The truth. On a wall of his cell, he wrote all knowledge he had accumulated about life. After years of collecting, his “wall of knowledge” had recently come to completion. He now knew everything there was to know, and concluded that the smartest thing he could do was to never, ever leave his prison cell again.
The wall had become his Bible; an instruction manual with all the answers, which he consulted whenever his enemy, the annoying voice, appeared. To him, this voice was a demon, a bad influence from the outside world, an infidel who was out to seduce him into doing stupid things. The words “YOU ARE SAFE HERE,” written on the wall with his own blood, sealed his life’s work. This was his personal noble truth and a mantra he repeated every day.
His contact with the outside world had become scarce over the years. Sporadically, an old friend or family member would visit him to see how he was doing, and often ended up listening to his long rants, that always, in some way, validated his life decisions. But whenever his visitors spoke about their own life endeavors, he was quick to refute their ideas.
One day, his sister told him that she was going to travel to another continent. “Don’t do it!” he uttered. He had read about exotic diseases, kidnapping, plane crashes, and all kinds of other incidents that would make it too dangerous to go. He also discouraged an old friend from starting a business, tried to stop his brother from having kids, and dissuaded his nephew from getting a driver’s license.
The reason for his objections was always the same: it’s too risky. As a matter of fact, when he was younger he, too, wanted to travel abroad, start a business, and have kids. He even considered getting a driver’s license, when his hatred of cars wasn’t as fierce as it was now.
“Why don’t you go for it, then? It’s not too late!” the annoying voice uttered.
“Leave me alone, will you?”
“I see. You’re scared.”
“Of course I’m scared!” he yelled. “Who wouldn’t be! Haven’t you read the facts on the wall? Don’t you know the risks?”
“Oh, that silly wall. The wall of knowledge. I’m sure it makes you feel very happy and safe here.”
“Damn right I feel safe here. And don’t you think that I’ll change my mind. My wall has saved me from more misery than you can imagine.”
To his frustration, the sacred words on his wall didn’t mean much to his visitors. Not only would they not take his advice; some even showed pity for his pessimistic outlook. This made him resentful, and he often couldn’t sleep because of it.
The only delight he had in the misery of not being taken seriously was a curious little book that he hid under his mattress with the following words written on its cover: “I told you so!” In this book, he wrote down all the times that he was right. When his old friend went bankrupt, he wasn’t surprised. When his brother, who was cheated on by his wife, divorced her and ended up paying child support, he chuckled.
And when his nephew crashed his car, he couldn’t resist saying those magic words that so strongly affirmed his way of life: “I told you so!” The days after he heard about a tragedy that he had already predicted, he actually enjoyed the cockroaches crawling through his ceiling, and the stench of rotten excrement.
This again confirmed that the world is indeed a nightmare, and that he made the right decision to renounce it with a passion. People who kept pushing their boulders up the mountain like happy Sisyphuses, no matter how often they rolled down again, he mocked relentlessly.
Looking at his precious wall, he mumbled: “Bunch of fools! If they knew what I know, they wouldn’t live so dangerously. At least I’m safe here, secluded from their folly.”
On a summer day, he received a letter from his sister. Before even opening it, he already knew that it would contain bad news. But it wasn’t quite what he expected. From the other side of the world, his sister wrote to him that she wouldn’t return anytime soon because of the pestilence that had broken out at home.
“Pestilence?” he frowned. He quickly looked out of his window and saw people passing by wearing face masks, and police patrolling the streets. He made a phone call to his brother, who then informed him that the pestilence is transmitted by cockroaches, and causes fever followed by filling people’s lungs with pus until they can’t breathe anymore and die.
Immediately, he looked at the black hole in the ceiling. He started to put out roach traps in all corners of his cell. Even though this killed many, he wasn’t able to exterminate the whole nest. A few days later, he woke up in the morning with a crippling fever. His breathing was short and heavy. He looked at his wall and yelled: “You lied to me! You told me I was safe here!”
He prayed for guidance, but was answered with silence. Shortly after, he fell asleep. He dreamed vividly about how he walked out of his prison cell, across town, beyond the dikes, towards the shore. When he woke up, the sun was shining through the little window of his cell. The door was wide open.
He felt a soft wind coming through, and he heard the sound of seagulls. He got up. To his horror, he discovered that his precious “wall of knowledge” was empty. Not a single word was left. His forehead started sweating profusely because of the fever. When he looked through the doorway, he saw the waves of the ocean.
Was he delirious? Just before he stepped out of his cell, the walls around him started to crumble and the ceiling was launched a thousand kilometers away into the sky until it disappeared like a shooting star. The crawling of cockroaches had given way to the screeching of birds, the stench of excrement to a joyful onshore wind, and the rotting mattress to soft fine sand.
He felt the warmth of the sun, and the salt air helped his breathing a little. Behind him, he saw footprints in the sand of a beautiful spotless beach that led to the dikes and beyond. He looked at the sea. His painful breathing became heavier and shorter. His lungs were filled with pus.
He whispered: “This... is not… a safe place to...” But then, the sounds of seagulls and ocean waves became more vibrant; so much so that his fears and worries slid off his shoulders and disappeared, and the pus in his lungs started to dissipate.
There was nothing left to solve, nothing to comprehend. There were no family or friends to convince, no records to keep, and no ideas to defend. What remained was the beauty of the sea in an unsafe world, a heaven unfolding in hell.
As he deeply took in the sight of an ever-stretching horizon, the ocean breeze, the squawking seagulls, and the soft fine sand below his feet, the annoying voice that had tormented him for so many years came to the surface, and said: “I told you so!”
Thank you for watching.