I wrote this story for recreation a week ago, and I figured it wasn’t half-bad. Decided to put this 300 or so word puppy up here for public discourse. Please, criticism is very welcome.
The Inevitability of Genius
He started with a pencil and a journal, and when he had finished Vincenzo had unraveled all the mysteries of the universe. He single-handedly cured cancer and AIDS, unlocked the truth of the mysterious origins of life and developed an alternative energy that was not just clean, but actively purified the atmosphere. He wrote the greatest story ever written and produced thousands of splendid poems. He admonished the wicked, exalted the good and proved once and for all which was which. He had tested and retested his hypotheses and researched every subject known to man to ensure total accuracy.
The moment Vincenzo was finished editing his tome he immediately set to work reproducing it. One billion ink cartridges perished in order to lend their precious toner to blank pages, giving Vincenzo’s words a greater voice with each copy. Once he had no more room to store the books he went about circulating them. He left a crate at town hall and Brannigan Square. He brought several copies to all his neighbors and asked them to pass a few on; they all kindly obliged. When visitors would pass through town he would give them two crates for free and even suggest they charge a small price – all profit – in order to spread the news further.
Everyone had a copy and everyone agreed; Vincenzo’s words were pure genius. The book of all human history had arrived and its conclusions were remarkable. The revelations it provided were so profound, so plain and honest, that it was as if the answers to the most puzzling questions had always been right before them and yet they could not see it until now. Except the details were never really discussed, and everybody was greatly relieved by that…
…because no one had bothered to read the book.