The Ishmael Gradsdovic Papers, part fifty-four


The Game, part one

One afternoon Ishmael Gradsdovic found a letter in his mailbox notifying him that he had been entered in The Game. He was of course thrilled with his selection, but due to his temperament spent some time fretting about how he had been selected, whether or not he was worthy of the honor, and whether perhaps he had been included in The Game by mistake. In time, though, he adjusted to merely feeling a warm sense of honor which thrilled through him periodically when, during his usual lazy Saturday routine, he remembered again as if being made freshly aware that he had been selected.

Occasionally at times like this he would stop what he was doing and retrieve the envelope from under the tray in the top drawer of his desk where he put it for safe keeping until he could think of a more fitting place for it. At these times he would read the brief message again, trying to parse it for every ounce of information, overt or implied, about the selection process and the reasons for his own selection.

But all the letter said was that he had been selected and was to appear at such-and-such a place at such-and-such a time for the initiation ceremony, at which time, presumably, more would be explained.

The letter itself was unimpressive-looking, as was the envelope it came in -- on the whole it resembled an invitation to subscribe to a magazine or receive a credit card more than an award or an exclusive notification of recognition. If he were to tell his friends (which he did not plan to do, at least not immediately, in case The Game players constituted a sort of secret society) he could not expect to present the letter as evidence in the face of their likely disbelief, as the very un-specialness of the letter would undoubtedly bolster their skepticism.

Ishmael even held within him the fear that he was being made the subject of a practical joke, that he would appear at the designated location at the designated time and his co-workers would be there to laugh at his pretensions. But here, the ordinary look of the letter seemed ironically to speak for its authenticity -- anyone attempting to fake such a letter would probably go overboard on the gold foil seals and fancy language.

So Ishmael planned Monday to cancel the few appointments he had for the remainder of the month and to ask immediately for a vacation from work so that he would be unencumbered by responsibility and have a short amount of time at least to prepare and perhaps to study what he could learn about The Game.

Actually, Ishmael knew very little about The Game and could think of nobody that he knew of whom he was certain was a member. He didn't know how many people were players, how they were selected, or anything about what the rules of the game were, its prizes or penalties. There evidently was a great deal of secrecy involved, or else Ishmael did not converse in the circles where this sort of knowledge was discussed. He imagined being asked to join The Game as being something as honorable as being awarded the Nobel Prize, as challenging as being asked to sign the Declaration of Independence, and as sacred as being asked to help select the next Pope.

But evidently someone with the authority in such matters had considered him worthy, and although his first impulse was to doubt his own readiness, he could not second guess the judgment of those who had chosen him. Certainly, although he might be ignorant and unskilled, he was eager to learn and respectful of the honor, and he hoped with faith that the natural talents and inclinations recognized in him by those who had selected him would do him well.



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