[The Person on the Pedestal, 622 words, Genre: Experimental]
* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn
It is odd when one comes to think about Einstein’s job. What he did for a living as a patent clerk. For historically the recorded facts state that it was the only job he could get. The job in itself was symbolic of the state of affairs in the world. For all we know Einstein could have been the mask of some other genius, whilst good old Albert used his position of power to take credit for said genius.
It is true that good artists create whilst great artists steal. Is this not also true of other vocations. To see the uproar of such a claim, to see others wash their hands in ignorance. For ignorance is bliss and to bathe in it sublime. To make such a discredit to a foundation of modern science and indeed, that of the world’s accomplishments, for science is something from which all things stem. The proclivity, the absurdity, the fascination with disregard to horrible truths. Yet, it is another lie. A lie that is symbolic of injustices in the world.
Assuredly, though, there is something to the stagnation of society without the great minds that do propel us. However, great minds are usually taken for idiots, otherwise good old Albert could have got a job somewhere else. As a prominent figure of some reputable appointment. Though those of a reputable appointment are usually sly in their vocation. For to achieve such a reputation is to gain a reputation through repute and not through the work involved in one’s vocation.
That is, to say the least, that the world is a den of thieves and liars. Unscrupulous to the last person. And the liar will always call himself an honest man to save himself from losing the power to lie effectively.
It is not the artist, nor the great thinker or brilliant mind that finds himself in a position of power. For he creates or harnesses his mind to work effectively with his skills. Whilst it is the thieves and dishonest who partake in credit for the accomplishments of the great. And the great remain shunned and disfigured, for although their talent is great, the recognition goes elsewhere. Sucked into a black hole to create a personification of credibility. For there is power in achieving the impossible, but there is more power in thievery of such talents.
And in a world full of thieves and liars, the truth is difficult, near impossible to discern. For every person that you look up to and aspire to be is a thief and a liar. They steal and lie about what they steal so that trickery and illusion can be maintained. The world is fair in it’s infinite cruelty, for deception lurks at every turn. To face such a world will drive you penniless and poor. For people will persuade you that they do support you, only to hack away the flesh and pull out your succulent meat. The clues are there and the innocent despair. Yet, to forsake such illusion is to be absent of hope. And in the end hope and illusion is all we have.
So Einstein worked as a patent clerk and was the greatest scientist of the twentieth century. Though men eventually proved him wrong. It is that symbol that we worship. The patent clerk. The collector of ideas. The thief who brands ideas as his own, to gain the reputation of a thousand acclamations.
We do not worship the celebrity actor for the person that they are, yet we choose to see them as the person they represent. The characters we fall in love with are different people. However, we give credit to the thieves of personalities rather than the personalities they represent.