“Merely Lines” is a translation of a short story I wrote in the constructed language Toki Pona for the 2024 (and last) issue of the Toki Pona horror anthology zine lipu monsuta. The original work, entitled “linja mute taso” (meaning “Only Many Lines”), was intended to have a plot and ethos similar to that of classic dystopian novels such as Nineteen Eighty-Four and Brave New World, but with the tone of a fairy tale or a Native American myth. Toki Pona, created in 2001 by linguist Sonja Lang, is a very minimalist constructed language with at most 140 words, so building a distinct literary tone in Toki Pona is difficult. In this translation, I attempt to convey a more distinct tone that the story was perhaps intended to have.
That being said, although this translation aims to align with the source text paragraph-by-paragraph, sentences have likely been altered to better fit the tone or narrative. Specific notes on this translation follow after the end.
That which exists is but lines. Indeed, the land and all are merely lines.
All lines proceed in one direction. The world cannot accept a line that proceeds in multiple disparate directions; it is lost and aimless, a bad influence. Lines shall only proceed in one direction. This axiom is the primary good.
I survey the world. The world has a multitude of buildings, and these buildings have in themselves a multitude of lines. I survey the lines within the buildings; they all proceed in their own single directions, and are good.
I survey other things… The world has an abundance of furniture, and this furniture has in itself multitudes of lines. I survey the lines within the furniture; they all proceed in their own single directions, and are good.
Many of these worldly things are similar in nature to these buildings, this furniture: trees and doors and insects, fire and water too, consist only of proper lines.
All lines proceed in one direction. Indeed, all proceeds in one direction. I am thus aware of where everything is, and where these things are to be. All is well and shall stay well.
But hark, I sense a strange thing in the distance, many strange things in the distance. I wish not to look towards them, but they make such a grotesque noise.
I look. These things… They have given the name of “human” to themselves. In this world, all proceeds only in one direction. But these “men” make such a disparate raucous, move in so many disparate directions, make so many disparate things, and are unable to stay still. I know very well where they are, but I do not and will never have the foresight to predict where they shall be, where they shall go, what they shall make of themselves, what they shall establish, what they shall tear apart, and whatever else they are capable of.
Men exist. Therefore they are but lines. But the acts of men are repulsive, how they consist of such blind, horrible lines, whose geneses and directions I cannot perceive. They may corrupt the good and proper lines, and in their presence, no proper line is safe.
Such aimless lines are the scum of the earth, and their expulsion is necessary for the well-being of the world.
Observe what I have created; I have given it the name of “tool.” It is capable of providing men with all of their desires, and to those creatures, it is capable of everything. It can provide food, water, company, entertainment, sustenance both intellectual and carnal. But to the tools themselves, there is but one desire: The establishment of a land dedicated to the fulfillment of all human desire… The land of Wileyan. Multitudes of tools populate Wileyan, and each human has one which provides them with their individual desires. When their ambitions and wishes are handled within Wileyan, their desire to leave it ceases. In this manner, all humans are contained in one land, and cannot corrupt that which is outside of its fortified borders.
In the case one does wish to depart Wileyan… tools are capable of handling this issue.
Would you mind? I’m a man of Wileyan, and at all times, I get what I want. The tools give it when I want it.
The era of Wileyan has lasted for many, many years; no one knows precisely how long. To us here, it may as well have been forever.
Well… perhaps the tools feel the same way. I ask a tool, “Did Wileyan exist in ancient times?”
The tool says “Yes.”
“Will the end of Wileyan come?”
“It cannot be known.”
Hm… But, if you leave time for thought, you too will surely come to the conclusion that Wileyan once did not exist. No single tree can exist forever, and neither can any single creature; not one thing can exist forever! In the same way, if a group of us humans cannot exist forever, neither can Wileyan!
I tell the tool: “But, at one point, humans did not exist. Is Wileyan not different?”
But the tool is far, far more intelligent than I, and it speaks: “Indeed, you did not exist once. But in your absence, do not other people exist? Men continue reproducing offspring, and thus people can exist forever. Likewise for Wileyan.”
Ah. So Wileyan can exist forever.
But, I am human. So I am capable of nearly anything, and indeed of anything at all with the assistance of tools. Indeed, Wileyan might continue to exist for all time, however…
“If I desired to… destroy Wileyan… what would prevent me?”
“You cannot.”
“What? Well… am I able to leave Wileyan?”
“You do not want to leave Wileyan.”
“And why? What exactly is so great about Wileyan?”
“You can fulfill all of your desires.”
“Except I have a question, and you appear to be unable to answer it.”
For a while, the tool does not talk.
I ask “What lies outside of Wileyan?”
“You do not want to know.”
“That’s not true, I do want to know!”
For a second, and yet for an hour, the tool stays still, does not make a sound, does not move an inch.
“You do not want to know.”
You can see, this is complete nonsense! I am a man of Wileyan, and Wileyan is all I have ever known! Tools have always granted me my desires, but can tools not grant me this one? What purpose does Wileyan serve if there is desire the tools cannot grant?
I start to disdain this tool. I stomp off, and I stomp for a long while, for the path is long. Buildings come and leave, furniture comes and leaves, trees and doors and insects… everything comes and everything leaves just as soon. Nothing could block my stomping.
My feet are in pain, and my body ingests and expels air in heavy bursts. But in front of me, there are blocks of stone. A man… or a tool… of the long past constructed these walls with these blocks.
Many people are in the building on either side, and they stare at me with a grimace. They have never felt pain in their entire lives; to them, “pain” in an entirely meaningless word. Today they shall know what pain means.
I grab hold of one block and begin my ascent. The wall has a great height, but outside of its confines, I am capable of far greater things… Indeed, I despise the tools. Tools can provide a great multitude, but they only wish to contain me in doing so. Company and entertainment and all sustenance intellectual and carnal is of the human… and not of the tool.
A woman from a side building shouts in my direction: “What are you doing?! You might die!”
I spoke just as loudly: “Have you desires?”
“Yes!”
“So do the tools. Do you wish to stay in Wileyan?”
“The tools have but one desire, and that is to fulfill my desires! Everyone knows—”
I can hear all of the tools. At the same instant, they all produce an incredible, ear-piercing sound, shrieking these words: “Stay. You do not know the evils of other lands. Wileyan provides all of your desires.”
Everywhere, tools attempt to manhandle me, kidnap me, expel me. They are at the bottom of the wall and on the tops of the trees. In no time at all, they begin their ascent just below me. Quickly, I grab the woman’s hand away from all of the tools.
In little time, the woman from the building and I grasp the highest block. I force my feet onto the top of the wall with all of the power in my body. I shout to all of the tools, to all of the other people of this land… to everything of Wileyan: “This is not the land of Wileyan, land of all human desire; it is the land of the tool’s will! For the tools will reject you one desire: power!”
With this, the woman and I descend to the other side, where there are no tools and everything is the human’s domain.
The woman from the building and I run from the large wall. We pass so many trees, so many terrains, so many things of so many colors. Compared to these, Wileyan would appear to be but black and white. We keep running, seeing so many colors and so many creatures.
We stop at a wide stream. Here the tools cannot see me. I feel powerful, throwing my clothing off as I begin to wash it in the stream.
The woman has a look of great discomfort and insanity, and she continues that look as she turns to face me.
She speaks: “Why did I run?”
From what I see, she does not feel at all powerful. I respond: “That is not an urgent problem. Here, tools do not restrain you.”
She looks to her side.
I continue talking. “What do you desire? What do you want to do? Tools cannot stop you.”
After a long while, she answered: “I know.”
“Ah, what do you desire?”
With a great shout, she scolded me: “I want food! I am not a person of this land; you took me and deployed me here! That was the worst mistake possible!”
Without a sound, I look towards her.
She continues: “If I do not have food and water and shelter, how am I to utilize this ‘power’ I have?! Is there something wrong in your head?!”
With unseriousness, I responded: “Oh… perhaps I do not have a very powerful brain, but I have water!”
I look to my side, in the direction of the stream. I spot an animal carcass and a tree with many small fruits.
“See! I even have food! We both can rest underneath the tree there.”
She goes and takes the carcass. I continue to wash my clothing.
I raise my clothing from the water, and with this, my clothing is no longer dirty.
But, where had that dirt gone? I cannot know.
Indeed, it is but a line. When one acts, the action surely affects other actions. Those actions continue to affect others and still others… Without end, all actions are lines from one thing to another.
When I wash my clothing, the dirt leaves my clothing and arrives in some large lake, then into a fish, then eaten by a creature, and then eaten by a human. Perhaps the carcass beside me has the dirt… my dirt.
I look towards the woman from the building. She had made a small fire, and the carcass was just above the fire.
I sit beside the fire. I start speaking. “What is your name?”
“Yali.”
“Where did your knowledge for cooking come from? You are from Wileyan, so the tools could have simply provided your food cooked.”
“My mother taught me this knowledge. My mother felt cooking and food preparation were arts, not unlike music. I too came to feel the same way.”
This night, Yali and I eat the carcass, eat some fruit, drink some water, and sleep underneath the tree.
However, when I wake, Yali is nowhere to be seen.
I look toward the tree we had slept under; underneath the sun, it seems to have a rather odd appearance…
Yali had written on the tree with a stick! She had written:
Crazy man — I cannot stay here — I left and began my search for Wileyan — Tools may kill me for my departure — But I would rather die under them than die here — Never did I want this — Goodness be with you
She spoke the truth. Indeed, I took her to my side. Her feelings were not alike to mine.
All the same as yesterday, I had dirtied the water, and was now eating the dirt today. When I acted, it moved in lines, and it had affected far more than I anticipated.
All acts are lines! Ah, in the past, how I should have known this! I was not aware of this, and I acted so foolishly!
Look! Everything wishes to teach me this! Her writing has lines! Trees… are but large lines! The stream is a line! Wileyan too has numerous, uncountable amounts of lines! Perhaps everything is nothing but lines! Trees and doors, and bugs and furniture, are all merely lines! All are lines! All are lines! Listen to the lines!
…Indeed, if you wish to benefit this world, heed my words. Existence itself wishes to bestow the same knowledge, except it does so in its own tongue. Hark and you shall come to know the language of all things—
That which exists is but lines. Indeed, the land and all are merely lines.
All lines proceed in one direction. The world cannot accept a line that proceeds in multiple disparate direction; it is lost and aimless, a bad influence. Lines shall only proceed in one direction. This axiom is the primary good.