Inklings 2023

pearance of these rich, wooden walls, or bookshelves filled to the brim with writings, or even the comfort of a warm fire that did this. It was the hours behind them. The hard work that propped them up. His youth was bare of these treasures, of these lavish wonders that made a man smile. His youth had been a somber affair of supporting a family in a way no young boy should have to. But he had. It was exactly that hardship that forged the man he was today. He sighed, his body shuddering with the weight of an imminent end. His eyes roved over the books on the shelves, many about a larger-than-life figure who had changed the world. He knew that when he left, he’d join their ranks. And people would never really know who he was, what he stood for. Perhaps they might guess something close to the truth, but no one would ever be truly right about him. Yet books would be written claim- ing he was this thing or that, and some ignorant person would gobble the falsehoods up and claim them truth. A sigh escaped him. Would anyone tell the story of his life? Of a person who’d amassed more wealth than anyone before him in modern times. Of a person who’d revolutionized charitable giving, organizing it into something scientific— something structured, as opposed to random pet projects that the rich had pursued ineptly before. Of a person instrumental in creating at least three respected univer- sities. Of a person who, through his gifts, had eradicated diseases domestically and had plans to continue globally. Of a person who had created research institutions that discovered the basis of diseases and modernized medical schools. The sphere of glass in his hand shook as a timid shiver rustled the settling snow. 5