Those Who Wait

"Those who wait, those who will. Forever fine, forever still." This was an old proverb he had heard countless times (as he created it himself, in a fit of thinking he was wise). This he repeated to himself for an infinity, to motivate himself to do the thing he always wanted to.

Of course there would be no story if he actually brought himself to accomplish what he had promised. An interestingly long list of excuses and events had delayed him far past his limit of motivation and eventually his interest dwindled like a dying flame. But it was never extinguished- at the back of his mind, eating away through declarations of importance and priority, was the ever-looming inevitability that one day, he must confront what he should have long ago.

"I have time! I have time. I can do it whenever I want. The task isn't hard, and I'm a fast worker. And I will do it. I need to." Some hollow phrases echoed in his mind.
Those who wait...

Scrambling for another excuse lead him to the group of Teachers. While he wasn't of any particular talent, it was enough for him to join and have a true and solid reason to avoid what he must do. He eagerly volunteered to perform the hardest work for the Teachers' project. Which... he wasn't too keen on... but anything to have a reason! Anything to have validity! Victory for the self!
His first task was to acquire a large amount of flesh. He would have quickly put this off too, but the deadline was far too close and pressure allowed him a moment of proper energy. Of course he had no idea on how to go about finding something of this quality, but the difficulty was almost comforting. The process was ugly and undesirable and I will spare the details if only to keep from spoiling what may happen next.

Soon he returned to the Teachers' Lounge and was quickly assigned a new mission, which was to find something that was not bones, but could function and grow as an organic bone would. No scientist, he ventured out and pondered what may count as a bone. Something sturdy, which could grow... Wasn't this something a biologist should figure out!? He was more of a philosopher (though this was self-assigned. I disagree with his assertion) and ended up thinking of the problem in terms that could not apply to the physical. What other than bone would grow and stay stable? Would properly mesh with flesh?? Why couldn't he just get actual bones? He racked his mind for a few days, and in this usage of slightly more brain power than average he was lead back to his original issue: this was all a distraction. What care did he have towards this project? What reason? To forget about his fate? How was this helping him??
Angry, he grabbed a branch at his foot and threw it as far as he could. And what would this do? Some sort of representation of his frustration? Who was he trying to impress? Who did he think was watching? Some self importance! Some audience that would never applaud!
And then it hit him: of course! Wood is hardy and branches grow. Instantly forgetting the last ten minutes of anguish, he broke as many branches off of that old tree he was under and excitedly ran back to the Lounge. The Head Teacher approved of his idea and granted him a new task. He gladly accepted this new work, not even remembering what it was he had so difficultly contemplated an hour ago.
Those who wait...

Task number 50 would be the final. It had been about two years since he was given this work, each mission growing increasingly difficult and therefore taking much longer to finish than the last. He never put a single one of these off, being far too eager to have a reason. A reason for what? He had forgotten. Replaced by a genuine interest in this job. In being a Teacher. Though it took him nearly a year, he ascertained the Teachers' goal: To create a new being capable of growth, and capable of New Knowledge. One that would take shape as it experienced. He still doubted whether it was even possible, but too far deep in this job to turn now, (and oddly obligated to continue,) he unquestioningly performed his last task.
His only instruction was the following: "Find for me an infinite depth. I shall allow you one year to complete this." After two years of doing what he was told, he knew that the Head Teacher wanted a physical, tangible item that fulfilled his description in any way, regardless of how many leaps of logic it would take. Though this was much harder than anything he had previously encountered, the time limit was also much longer than any he had been provided previously. A whole year... An infinite depth...
His first idea was a bucket that had a hole in the bottom. Its depth was infinite... right? "Yeah, that's a dumb idea," he thought.
Next, a book detailing the unexplored abysses of the sea. Perhaps he took too literal the term "depth" and dismissed this one.
Oh, but a book could work! You could write an infinite amount of things and never reach everything. A book with blank pages... but how many? How would this even work in a physical sense? He threw that idea out the window.
Books... Knowledge... a school? No, it needed to be empty. Everything he brought so far was empty (he assumed it was for the vessel) so nothing pre-written or established could work. This also eliminated his idea of utilizing a certain black box for this purpose (as it already contained all knowledge, and had definite limits).
Though that black box was inorganic... so something organic. Something that created its own space.
The mind.
At once he understood the true meaning of the Head Teacher's request. He needed to empty his mind and donate it. Outrageous as it may seem, he wasn't very opposed to the thought. Maybe his life would amount to something, his last contribution the most meaningful.
So how would one go about clearing his own mind? Well... eliminate anything that would give him any more thought. So he did. He cleared away debts, unfulfilled desires, and refused to create any more. He then understood the meaning of the long time limit as well, though at this point it felt almost too short.
Eliminating everything that may cause thought and forgetting any knowledge he had, he was ready to eliminate his senses as well, and prepare to turn in his finished work. But in the clearing away of thoughts, he unearthed what he had so purposely buried long ago. The inevitable. What he had promised to do, what he had time to do, and what he could probably still do... but wouldn't. Couldn't. No- he certainly could, but... he just couldn't.  It wasn't even anything bad. Nothing gruesome or evil. Something anyone else could probably do in a couple of hours. But he just couldn't. How terrible! To have a problem with such easy solution, forever taunting him!
And those old words echoed:
Those who wait...

Paralyzed, he ran. He ran faster than his legs could move and farther than they could take him. Away. Away. Away with these reminders. "I need to clog my mind once more. I need to forget. What I need..."
He had no idea whether he could even leave the Teachers' project at all. Maybe they would pursue him to keep him from telling others about their work. Maybe not. But he never thought about this, as he was far too distressed to pay any thought any attention. What he needed was a new distraction. A new work. Something that wouldn't end so he wouldn't have to end. Something to cover up what was looming. Something to remove these pangs of guilt...
He ran across oceans and through skies, and ended up in a completely different country. With no money and no knowledge of the area, he decided to try starting a new life, the details of I won't bore you with. It was rough and hard and he put in hard work and felt accomplished a few times, and felt good about his "simple job," and nearly forgot about his original problem, replacing his reason for running away with "That project was far too dark and gruesome, I didn't want to be a part of it anymore." He convinced everyone but himself.
And years passed this way. He made new friends and new ideas and new excuses. Nothing as far encompassing as his job as a Teacher, but it was enough for him. (This was one more lie he told himself).
Those who.... those who... 

The ground shook.
The earth cracked.
A being of flesh and spine and bulging unseeing eyes erupted before him. Its uncalibrated arms slinked and shuffled their way closer, and it bowed its "head", if you could call it that, next to his. He was afraid the being would lose its balance and squash him under its massive skull, but through all the creaking of muscle and bone it perfectly aligned itself with his mind. And it was there that he felt a burning sensation. A dot in the center of his head, piercing all his thoughts and setting aflame anything else.
He screamed in agony of the burning of his mind. Reduced to ashes and then to nothing. Reduced... no, one thing wouldn't burn. One thing, one pillar held up the few remains of walls and ceiling: the inevitability. The thing he ran from numerous times.
"Burn it! Destroy it! I beg you!" Somehow he could create intelligible words despite his intense pain.
But it didn't obey. For it couldn't. The creature could not destroy something so firmly planted. But it needed this. It needed an Infinite Depth to complete itself. It should have had it from the beginning, but because of this pitiful person before it, it didn't, it and felt so incomplete. It decided, if it could receive it in the form of a gift much like its other senses, it could be complete. So it burned and burned, and grew frustrated at its inability to remove what remained in his mind. But it did remove everything else, and, rather begrudgingly, accepted his mind. It removed his mind, gained that Infinite Depth needed for the absorption of knowledge, and instantly its form cleared. What had been stored in its fat was now stored in its mind, and it was rather graceful now, and galloped away feeling refreshed.

His body, on the other hand, lay there, unmoving. For without a mind he was nothing. And in this he died. Not even his mind was left- it was that creature's now- but he did leave something meaningful behind.

His regret.