The Phantom Tollbooth. Norton Juster
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asked Milo, a little bowled over by the effusive greeting.
“Well now, well now, well now,” he began again, “I don’t know of any wrong road to Dictionopolis, so if this road goes to Dictionopolis at all it must be the right road, and if it doesn’t it must be the right road to somewhere else, because there are no wrong roads to anywhere. Do you think it will rain?”
“I thought you were the Weather Man,” said Milo, very confused.
“Oh, no,” said the little man, “I’m the Whether Man, not the Weather Man, for after all it’s more important to know whether there will be weather than what the weather will be.” And with that he released a dozen balloons that sailed off into the sky. “Must see which way the wind is blowing,” he said, chuckling over his little joke and watching them disappear in all directions.
“What kind of a place is Expectations?” enquired Milo, unable to see the joke and feeling very doubtful of the little man’s sanity.
“Good question, good question,” he exclaimed. “Expectations is the place you must always go to before you get to where you’re going. Of course, some people never go beyond Expectations, but my job is to hurry them along whether they like it or not. Now, what else can I do for you?” And before Milo could reply he rushed into the house and reappeared a moment later with a new coat and umbrella.
“I think I can find my own way,” said Milo, not at all sure that he could. But, since he didn’t understand the little man at all, he decided that he might as well move on – at least until he met someone whose sentences didn’t always sound as if they would make as much sense backwards as forwards.
“Splendid, splendid, splendid,” exclaimed the Whether Man. “Whether or not you find your own way, you’re bound to find some way. If you happen to find my way, please return it, as it was lost years ago. I imagine by now it’s quite rusty. You did say it was going to rain, didn’t you?” And with that he opened the umbrella and walked with Milo to the car.
“I’m glad you made your own decision. I do so hate to make up my mind about anything, whether it’s good or bad, up or down, in or out, rain or shine. Expect everything, I always say, and the unexpected never happens. Now please drive carefully; goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, good…” His last goodbye was drowned out by an enormous clap of thunder, and as Milo drove down the road in the bright sunshine he could see the Whether Man standing in the middle of a fierce cloudburst that seemed to be raining only on him.
The road dipped now into a broad green valley and stretched towards the horizon. The little car bounced along with very little effort, and Milo had hardly to touch the accelerator to go as fast as he wanted. He was glad to be on his way again.
“It’s all very well to spend time in Expectations,” he thought, “but talking to that strange man all day would certainly get me nowhere. He’s the most peculiar person I’ve ever met,” continued Milo – unaware of how many peculiar people he would shortly encounter.
As he drove along the peaceful road he soon fell to daydreaming and paid less and less attention to where he was going. In a short time he wasn’t paying any attention at all, and that is why, at a fork in the road, when a sign pointed to the left, Milo went to the right, along a route which looked suspiciously like the wrong way.
Things began to change as soon as he left the main road. The sky became quite grey and, along with it, the whole countryside seemed to lose its colour and assume the same monotonous tone. Everything was quiet, and even the air hung heavily. The birds sang only grey songs and the road wound back and forth in an endless series of climbing curves.
Mile after
mile after
mile after
mile he drove, and now, gradually the car went slower and slower, until it was hardly moving at all.
“It looks as though I’m getting nowhere,” yawned Milo, becoming very drowsy and dull. “I hope I haven’t taken a wrong turn.”
Mile after
mile after
mile after
mile, and everything became greyer and more monotonous. Finally, the car just stopped altogether, and, hard as he tried, it wouldn’t budge another inch.
“I wonder where I am,” said Milo in a very worried tone.
“You’re…in…the…Dol…drums,” wailed a voice that sounded far away.
He looked round quickly to see who had spoken. No one was there, and it was as quiet and still as one could imagine.
“Yes…the…Dol…drums,” yawned another voice, but still he saw no one.
“WHAT ARE THE DOLDRUMS?” he cried loudly, and tried very hard to see who would answer this time.
“The Doldrums, my young friend, are where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes.”
This time the voice came from so close that Milo jumped with surprise, for, sitting on his right shoulder, so lightly that he hardly noticed, was a small creature exactly the colour of his shirt.
“Allow me to introduce all of us,” the creature went on. “We are the Lethargarians, at your service.”
Milo looked round and, for the first time, noticed dozens of them – sitting on the car, standing in the road, and lying all over the trees and bushes. They were very difficult to see, because whatever they happened to be sitting on or near was exactly the colour they happened to be. Each one looked very much like the other (except for the colour, of course) and some looked even more like each other than they did like themselves.
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” said Milo, not sure whether or not he was pleased at all. “I think I’m lost. Can you help me please?”
“Don’t say ‘think’,” said one sitting on his shoe, for the one on his shoulder had fallen asleep. “It’s against the law.” And he yawned and fell off to sleep, too.
“No one’s allowed to think in the Doldrums,” continued a third, beginning to doze off. And as each one spoke, he fell off to sleep and another picked up the conversation with hardly any interruption.
“Don’t you have a rule book? It’s local ordinance 175389–J.”
Milo quickly pulled the rule book from his pocket, opened to the page, and read, “Ordinance 175389–J: It shall be unlawful, illegal, and unethical to think, think of thinking, surmise, presume, reason, meditate, or speculate while in the Doldrums. Anyone breaking this law shall be severely punished!”
“That’s a ridiculous law,” said Milo, quite indignantly. “Everybody thinks.”
“We don’t,” shouted the Lethargarians all at once.
“And most of the time you don’t,” said a yellow one sitting in a daffodil. “That’s why you’re here. You weren’t thinking, and you weren’t paying attention either. People who don’t pay attention often get stuck in the Doldrums.” And with that he toppled out of the flower and fell snoring into the grass.
Milo couldn’t help laughing at the little creature’s strange behaviour, even though he knew it might be rude.
“Stop that at once,” ordered the fawn one clinging to his trousers. “Laughing is against the law. Don’t you have a rule book? It’s local ordinance 574381–W.”
Opening the book again, Milo found Ordinance 574381–W: “In the Doldrums, laughter is frowned upon and smiling is permitted only on alternate Thursdays. Violaters shall be dealt with most harshly.”