Many shaky answers

I don’t like to admit it, but I’m lost. In my far too old, far too polluted, far too noisy Jeep, I am grunting through this barren, empty hilly landscape. No houses to be seen anywhere. No people, no trees, no restaurants, no offices, no foxes, no white herons.

Although I should be really distressed (after all: no navigation system, a broken phone, no food or drink) I feel surprisingly relaxed. Maybe because this ride does not really feels like a perfunctory trip. It feels much more like a quest, a pilgrimage. But without purpose, without real conviction, without a guilty conscience.

But then suddenly, I catch sight of a figure standing along the dusty road. Although I am not in the habit of taking hitchhikers with me, this time I pull over and stop right in front of the weird guy. I have a vague suspicion that I know this strange figure. Or at least that I have heard rumors about him. This roadside man is known as the Hermit. People also call him also the Seer, the Oracle.

"Can I offer you a ride?" I am asking him after I finally with great pain and effort have managed to open the door of the co-driver's seat. A warm, dusty air rushes in. The man says nothing, he only stares blankly at my face. Silently he settles himself down next to me. I start the old car. And as if we have agreed on it, my fellow traveler gives me directions which route to take in this dry land.

When we have left the rugged landscape behind us after an hour's drive, the passer-by seems to relax. He stretches his thin, hairy legs and yawns. From the corner of my eye, I notice how disheveled the Recluse is. His neck, his arms, his forehead are full of dirty spots, dry pustules, and red bumps. Should I be worried?

Then the Seer starts talking. Calm, confident. He tells me, as a successful lawyer more than twenty years ago, he decided to give up his old life and look for seclusion. Or actually not seclusion, isolation. But he was longing for rest, relaxation, harmony.

Like an old elephant who separates herself from the noisy herd.

“In the beginning it took time getting used to it, living in the wilderness. I was used to a lot of luxury, wasn't I? But little by little I managed to adapt. Eating, sleeping, being alone. I found a nice cool cave to live in. I enjoyed the solitude, the nature,” explains the Visionary, curiously looking through the dirty window.

“When the first visitors arrived, I was not keen about them at all. I felt they disturbed my peace, my freedom. But over time, I started to like it, to love it. I was not regarded merely as a counselor, as a lawyer, but as a prophet, a druid. I was being asked the strangest questions. At first, I felt hesitant to answer. Especially since the questioners seemed to accept my responses without any criticism.”

The Prognosticator smiles to himself. He tickles his red-burned nose and puts his hands back in his dusty, dirty lap.

“Without realizing it, I started to believe in my new status as a Psychic, as a Fortuneteller. I started to appreciate it. The status, the prestige. I thought I had seen the light. I really believed that through my isolation, my withdrawal, I had developed a wisdom that was unique. More than that, that I had insights that could help people further. That I was the one who could give direction.”

Now the Predictor laughs out loud. Without genes, hesitation.

“Ah, how I have fooled myself! What gibberish I told. What madness, what utter nonsense, what an absurdity!”

The Anchorite gestures for me to stop. He seems to like the place where we are, and I leave the highway. We get off at a modest roadhouse. Once inside, the Misanthrope would like to have a large glass of coke and a ham cheese sandwich. When after 15 minutes his meal is being served, the Loner visibly enjoys visibly his drink and the snack. But I cannot wait any longer. I am dying to ask what his plans are now he is not bound to his seclusive life anymore.

"Plans? I have no plans other than to become an ordinary person again. Weak, vulnerable, interested, modest. Anything seems better to me than pretending to have a monopoly on the truth.”

He waves at the waitress and orders another ham cheese sandwich.