Mr. Christian

An elegantly dressed, grey-haired man walks into Joe Fendley’s office at Elberton Granite Finishing, Georgia.
“Morning, Sir”, he says, and before Joe manages to drop his usual welcoming phrases, the man continues in a loud, clear voice: “Mr. Christian. Pleased to meet you”, right hand outstretched.
“Pleased to meet you”, Joe says and shakes his hand. “What can I do for you?”
“I would like to purchase about 240,000 pounds of your finest granite, Sir,” the man says.
Joe feels his face losing colour and has to support himself on the desk with both his hands.
“Excuse me?”
“You do trade in granite, don’t you?” the man asks.
“Well, yes.” Joe says.
“Good. I heard so, and I would hate to have been given disinformation of any kind. In fact I heard you were the best in the country, vast as it is.” Mr. Christian says, and gives Joe a casual look, as if he’d just asked for today’s newsaper from a street seller.
“Well, that’s quite a lot of stone you’re asking.” Joe says.
“That’s the amount of stone I actually need”, the grey-haired gentleman proclaims, matter-of-factly.
“May I ask in what shape you will need the stones.? What sizes are we talking?”
“Well. Initially I had my mind set on pebbles, but on second thought I’d rather they be about five blocks at about sixteen feet height and one at about nine feet, six at about seven feet… Oh, what the hell, here’s the written instructions.”
The man hands Joe a paper with very thorough drawings of more than a dozen pieces of assorted rectangular and square monolith-like figures with very specific information of measurement written below.
Joe studies the drawings for a while, then he says, as he looks up from the paper: “This is possible. But it’ll cost you.”
“Money is not an issue”, is Mr. Christian’s swift reply. “We will also need some inscriptions to be made.” He hands Joe a new paper.
“What languages are these?” Joe asks.
“Several”, Mr. Christian answers.
“What does it say?”
“Oh, you know, the usual stuff: ‘maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature’, ‘guide reproduction wisely’, ‘improve fitness and diversity’, ‘prize truth — beauty — love — seek harmony with the infinite’, ‘protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts’, ‘let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court’ and ‘don’t be a cancer to the earth — leave room for nature — leave room for nature’. That kind of stuff."
Joe stares at the merry gentleman standing in front of him. He looks far too sane for the blabber coming out of his mouth, and he has just secured Joe’s retirement by showing up in the office placing such an impossibly valuable order for the company.
Joe hesitates, but eventually gets himself to say: “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but what’s it all for?”
His golden-goose customer looks back at him with clear, green eyes, then he leans forward as if to answer his question in the most intimate and secretive way - even though there is no-one else in the office: “It’s for making sure our future generations remember how things were done back in our day and age - in case something horrendous should happen.”
Joe scratches his chin, then he says; “But why would someone need to remember how things were done in our day and age, if the way we do things will lead to something horrendous?”
Mr. Christian stares blankly at him, and there is an enduring pause between the two men.
Joe can see the old man’s calm, almost smug persona changing, and starts to worry that he had just blown one of his own company’s largest contracts ever.
But then the grey-haired gentleman breaks his own silence:
“Either”, Mr. Christian says, “to make them able to start building a new world in the same fashion that we have done for the last few thousand years...”
Joe can feel a drop of sweat working its way down his right temple.
“Or…” - and here he makes an almost theatrical point of the following pause, “to make sure they never ever make the same mistakes again. Either way – it’s a winner!”
Joe exhales the lungful that he’s been holding for the last half-minute.
“Hell, what do I know?” Mr. Christian shrugs. “I only do what my boss tells me to do - like any other decent working man.”
“Sure.” Joe says as he walks around the desk to follow his customer to the door.
“So. I take it we have a deal then, Joe?”
Joe feels very relieved, and says: “We sure do!”
“Look forward to see the beauty”, Mr. Christian says just as Joe opens the door to let Mr. Christian out, then he suddenly turns around and adds:
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Where will you be getting all this stone from?”
“Well, I guess the only place capable of delivering such sizes and amounts would be our own Pyramid Quarries, just a few miles west of town.”
“Good”, Mr. Christian says, and in his jolly gentleman’s manner he finally adds: “Now, is there any place nearby where a man can get a decent cup of coffee?”