The Tree of Knowledge by Daniel Miller (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📕

others provided. While regular people battled heartbreak, disappointment, fear, and insecurity, Albert hovered above, comforted by the knowledge that he was nothing more than a machine, a collection of cells intermingling together to form a sentient being. One that could resist bursts of random feeling and conquer deep-seated emotions with logic.

Yet now, within the span of a few days, that edifice had crumbled under a near-constant assault from a mentor, a sergeant, a friend, and even a woman he had thought he loved. Exhaustion had certainly played a part. He hadn’t taken into consideration what it meant to have no free time, no retreat, no career, no friends, no family.

Albert sat on the dead tree, and as the poisonous concoction of humiliation, vulnerability, and embarrassment filled his heart, he understood how people came to hate.

“The great man walks alone,” exclaimed Turner, approaching Albert from behind.

“I’d like to be alone,” said Albert with all the strength he could muster.

“I know,” said Turner as he sat down next to Albert and joined him in staring at the sun sinking into the horizon. The streaky blue sky between the trees was turning violet, and the shadows lengthened.

The two sat in silence and watched the sparrows fly overhead for several minutes. Finally, Turner interrupted the silence.

“Look, Albert. I know that was hard for you. And in normal circumstances, I would apologize. But whether you like it or not, it was necessary. It was necessary because I needed Ying to understand that she is capable of accomplishing anything, even in that tiny frame. By the same token, I needed you to understand that no one can be overlooked, no matter how benign or helpless they may seem.”

The wise man touched Albert on the shoulder to get him to turn.

“And if I waited for you to learn that lesson from Eva, then it would have been too late.”

Albert saw the professor’s eyes glistening and resumed looking out into the forest.

Turner tapped his stick on the ground and dug up the grass, exposing the soft dirt. He picked up the blades of grass and tossed them into the wind.

“You know, I’ve never told you this, but I believe that you have the potential to be a truly great thinker. I’ve watched your career since you came to Princeton and waited for you to make a seminal contribution to mathematical thinking. But you haven’t. At first, I wondered why that was, but then I realized . . . you’ve never been challenged. You’ve been content to while away your time teaching undergraduates and making incremental contributions to obscure mathematics issues, and nothing and no one has come along and pushed you to do something truly great. You could have been a great chess player, but you quit, and everyone let you. You could have been a great mathematician, but you avoided the big issues, and everyone let you. Well, I’m not going to let you.”

Albert looked at Turner but didn’t have the strength to argue.

“You know, Albert, I believe it was Shakespeare who once said, ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”

Albert nodded, bit his lip, and closed his eyes.

The professor clutched Albert’s shoulder, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Think. Maybe everything you have been through in the last few days is just greatness being thrust upon you.”

He rose from the bench.

“Professor, I don’t want to be great. I don’t want any of this.”

Turner cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you do.”

Chapter 18

For the next two weeks at the Travis Farm, Albert Puddles was the model student and soldier. He rededicated himself to the task of mastering the Tree. He ate what he was told to eat, lifted what he was told to lift, and dedicated every ounce of brainpower he had to understanding how to use the Tree in every situation he faced. The results surprised even Albert. Physically, he improved markedly. When he took his shirt off, he no longer looked emaciated, just skinny.

But the physical progress was nothing compared to the explosion of mental activity he was experiencing. Due to Albert’s relentless scientific analysis, he and Ying were now beating Travis, Salazar, and all other comers handily in “hay bale chess,” as they jokingly called it. Each day, Turner would stack the odds further against the two by giving Travis and Salazar additional support or removing hay bales. The old professor had even started taking away weapons from the two of them. Yet despite Turner’s best efforts, Albert was always a step ahead. He covered the walls of his room with gigantic game trees depicting possible moves by his opponents and his and Ying’s corresponding reactions. What would he do if they had ten soldiers? What if he had no weapons? What if Ying got hit? Every possible scenario was envisioned and mapped. Albert had become so proficient at the game that he no longer required a paper and pen to map his game trees; it was all in his mind.

The same was true for hand-to-hand combat. Albert had received his own set of “fighting glasses,” and after several sound beatings, he was now able to give Turner a workout. Brick continued to beat him through a combination of experience and sheer strength, but Albert was good enough now that when they fought, Brick’s formerly mocking smile was replaced by a look of measured concentration. When he arrived at the farm, the idea that Albert could ever beat the world’s leading expert in hand-to-hand combat was unthinkable, but now with his knowledge of the Tree and Gabe’s wonderful glasses, it seemed possible.

Ying’s progress had been equally astounding. She had mastered hay bale chess, and had become an incredibly adept fighter for someone of her stature. Because of her size, she was unable to defeat trained fighters like Salazar and Brick, but she regularly dominated the local men that Travis brought to the farm. This was a source of endless confusion and