The Six Aspects

On hearing of a far-off new mining operation offering high wages and adequate lodging, a band of three laborers set out on a journey through dangerous lands to join their company. When the sole remaining laborer staggered into the mining encampment, he was impressed at the scale of it. Grand structures of scaffolding creaked against the cliffside, and the main shaft yawned before him - a long and wide throat of torchlit darkness with tributaries full of pickaxes clanging away, steady and inexhaustible. He made his way to the most official-looking tent and entered.

At a rugged and massive wooden desk, a gnome was perched scribbling on parchment with an ornate quill. He looked up. "Yes?"

"I came seeking work. Is this the new mining operation?"

The gnome set down his quill and hopped from his chair. He crossed the floor and looked the laborer up and down, squinting.

"My name is Fenton van Haasen, and yes, this is Van Haasen Enterprises, where we turn the wheel that moves the world. Please sit."

The gnome pulled a chair up to the front of the desk and then sat down opposite the laborer. He cleared his throat and solemnly asked a series of qualifying questions as to whether the laborer had ever worked in a mine, whether he had ever been caught stealing or sleeping on the job, whether he had his own equipment, and so on, making notes with his fancy quill. When all questions were answered to the gnome's satisfaction, he set his quill down and clapped once, loudly, and the laborer flinched.

"Excellent! You are certainly qualified to work in my mines, provided you agree to my conditions, which are admittedly unique among mining operations."

The laborer nodded. The gnome continued.

"For background: in the past I have had repeated and quite vexing issues with workforce fraternization and in some unfortunate cases, collusion. I've found in general that greater productivity can be realized when my workers are empowered to be the sovereign stewards of their own individuated domains, free from distraction by perspectives which may or may not be complementary with those of Van Haasen management."

The laborer nodded again, having understood less than half of the preceding.

"Accordingly, each mining associate in Van Haasen Enterprises is provided with the opportunity to manage their own autonomous mineshaft for which they bear sole responsibility and from which they exclusively reap the benefits of their labors. Do you agree to this?"

The worker felt this was his time to negotiate. He furrowed his brow to appear shrewd. "We haven't discussed my wages yet."

"Ah. Of course. I'm offering the standard rate. Now, as for hours, we work by the candle."

"By the candle?"

"Yes." Fenton smiled for the first time and turned to reach into a cabinet behind his desk. He produced a stout white candle. "By the candle. You'll light this at the start of your shift, and when it extinguishes, your shift will be over. You'll be surprised at how fast it goes."

The laborer handled the candle tentatively and Fenton hopped down again from his chair, bidding the laborer to follow him. They passed through the empty barracks and the laborer gathered a pickaxe, a belt, gloves, boots, a vest, and a wheelbarrow at the gnome's direction. He equipped himself and followed the gnome down the mineshaft, pushing his wheelbarrow full of tools. They walked for ages, passing fork after fork, the air ringing with the sound of hard labor, until they came at last to a branching path that was unlit, and stopped.

"This is all yours," the gnome said, with a sweeping and magnificent gesture. Then he struck a match on his boot and lit the laborer's candle, setting it on a small outcropping of rock. Flickering light filled the narrow and low mineshaft, strong for such a small candle. The gnome grabbed the pickaxe, placed it in the laborer's hands and made his way back to the encampment. He called back over his shoulder.

"Welcome to the team my friend, and thank you for the opportunity to share in your success."

With that, the gnome was gone from sight. The laborer stooped and took his first swing of the pickaxe and the bite of metal on rock vibrated through his bones and made his teeth chatter. He braced himself and swung again, and again. Soon his muscles swelled as he beat a steady rhythm on the wall. Chips of stone and splashes of dust showered on his face with each blow, and the light of the candle glistened on sweat streaming from every pore, and hours passed, and he thought of all the fine clothes and rich foods he would buy with his new wages. The candle burned on and on, unfaltering, showing no sign of melting, and he kept swinging, and days went by, and then weeks, and then seasons, and then years, and the laborer didn't seem to mind.

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