Leaving Kint Behind

The wagon was packed, the road was ready, but the town had other plans for his heart.

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:05

Welcome to Dispatches from Kent. Conditions remain inconclusive. This week's report concerns a departure that did not occur. The matter began when an older citizen named Arlan Voss walked into the Ministry of Transit and requested a map of the wider world. This was unusual. Most citizens of Kent request maps showing how to reach the orchard, the bridge, or the post office. But Arlan Voss requested something different. I would like to see another part of the world, he said. The clerk looked up from her desk. There's something wrong with Kent? No. Kent is very nice. Maybe that's the difficulty. The clerk wrote the request carefully into the ledger under the category Intentions of Travel. Within hours the news had traveled through the town. Arland Voss was leaving. His friends were troubled by this development. Arland had lived in Kent for sixty-three years. He had repaired half the roofs in town. He had helped rebuild the West Bridge after the flood that turned out not to be a flood, but merely an unusually enthusiastic tide. Most importantly, he was widely regarded as the sort of person whose quiet presence made a town feel settled. So the citizens gathered to ask a reasonable question why would you want to leave? Arlen answered honestly. I've seen the same streets for many years, he said, the same houses, the same gardens. He smiled kindly. It's a very good sameness, but I would like to see something new. The citizens of Kent considered this carefully. People often wish for new things, new hats, new shoes, but the idea of leaving entirely seemed unnecessary. A small meeting was held that evening in the square. The current king attended, and so did the Minister of Practicalities, two gardeners, an opera singer and an unusually enthusiastic painter named Sella Rin. What exactly does he want to see? asked the king. New things, someone replied. The meeting lasted several hours. Eventually the citizens of Kent developed a plan. The following morning, Arlan Vaugh stepped outside his house and noticed something unusual. His neighbor had painted her home bright blue. Not a modest blue, a remarkably confident blue. Further down the street, another house had been painted yellow. Someone had hung lanterns across the alley. The bakeries introduced three new breads whose ingredients could not be entirely explained. The Ministry of Civic Planning constructed a small archway in the square labeled New Things. Arlan walked slowly through town. Everywhere he looked, something had changed. A musician played an instrument no one had previously attempted. Children had built a fountain that worked intermittently but enthusiastically. A gardener had planted flowers in the shape of a spiral. By afternoon, Kint looked slightly unfamiliar and remarkably proud of itself. Arlan returned to the square where the citizens were waiting. Well, someone asked. Arlan looked around. The blue house, the lanterns, the archway, the enthusiastic fountain. He smiled. I suppose I was hoping to see something new, he said. And now I have. The king nodded. Will you still be leaving? Arlan thought about this carefully, and then he shook his head. With this many people working so hard to surprise me, he said, I believe I'll stay and see what happens next. The citizens seemed relieved, though several admitted that they rather liked the new colors. The blue house remained blue, the spiral garden became a local landmark, and the archway labeled New Things was never removed. People sometimes believe they must travel far away to discover something different, but change often begins much closer to home. Sometimes it begins with a simple act of kindness, or a bright coat of paint, or a group of friends who decide the world should look slightly more interesting to someone they care about. In Kent, novelty is rarely imported from distant lands. It's usually constructed overnight by neighbors with ladders. And so Arland Voss remains in Kent, still curious about the wider world, but no longer quite so certain that it lies somewhere else. From the land of Kent, where friendship occasionally redecorates an entire town, and surprise is considered a respectable form of affection. This has been your correspondent. Conditions remain inconclusive.