"Jake, that person over there is digging through clamshells, just like in your Vision. I don't seem to be getting anything but cucumber peelings and old comic books." --"Those are first editions of Superman and Batman. Don't compare; just focus on your own goal. Um, can I borrow one of those?"

"Jake! Over here! Look at these biscuit-things I found: are they important?" --"According to this brochure that was under them, they're sample tidbits left over from a 'Flour of Life' Workshop. My recollection is that they're very tasty, but most people waste a lot of time trying to figure out how to digest them. I recommend you just keep digging."advised Jake.

"Jake, I bought every book I could find on digging holes, and I now consider myself an expert on all twenty-seven methods. I really can't say that your system has yielded any better results than the others." --"You've also dug 27 holes, one foot deep. May I suggest that if you had dug one hole, twenty-seven feet deep, you'd be a lot closer to your goal?"


And so it went. To Jake's practiced eye, he could see that everyone was making excellent progress, and that the abundant source of water was there for all of them. But one by one they became discouraged and began to fall away. Many became frustrated at the amount of garbage they were having to dig through, as though the parched, rocky soil outside the dump would somehow be preferable. Some began to doubt that the water would be there for them no matter how deep they dug ("Oh, I just know I'll never get there; I'll be the last one, and I'll still never get there").

One excavator-turned-entrepreneur proved to be a major distraction for several others, by urging them to leave off digging and purchase solar stills that he had made:

Another group found a cache of jewels, evidently hidden in a dumpster by some thieves who didn't make it back to their stash before the garbage truck arrived. The new recipients were so excited by their find that they forgot all about Jake, their hole, and the water, and ran off to find a new hiding place for their treasure. According to reports that filtered back, they all died of thirst shortly thereafter.


In checking the records, there is some confusion as to how this story ends. According to one account, the Waterworks Department - still a major bureaucracy in spite of not having provided anything liquid to anyone in several decades-showed up in force on the third day and declared the entire excavation a hazardous waste site. Several mid-management types reportedly accosted Jake as the Chief Offender and strung him up on the crossbars of a broken and discarded goalpost, to the cheers of a hastily gathered crowd. The crowd reportedly contained an unusual number of drunk ex-excavators complaining noisily about the nonexistent blisters on their hands.

Another account states just as certainly that Jake's crew simply kept digging, until the infilling water dissolved the walls of each individual tunnel and there was only one large crystalline pool, with a fountain of pure liquid beauty at its center. Oddly, the omnipresent garbage is reputed to have disappeared entirely, or to have transformed into the verdant foliage and animal life that (reportedly) appeared overnight. Jake and his fellow 'garbage-divers,' as they were mockingly called, were last seen sporting joyously in the abounding (one could almost say - infinite?) waters: in the next instant, nobody was there at all.

A third account simply records the two previous stories, and cryptically states there is no difference. Well, Well, dear reader, is that too deep? Or do you dig?

"It's so easy! You just dig a small hole about a foot across, and put this bowl into it; then you put the membrane over the hole, making sure the low spot is over the bowl. Then you simply urinate all around the hole and let the sun do its work. And you can do it in your own yard, as well!"


The onlookers dutifully contributed moisture from their own bladders for the purpose of the demonstration, but became suspicious when, a few hours of patient 'distillation' later, they had to hold the entrepreneur down and force him to drink the contents of his still. They left him to commiserate with the flies that had seemed to gather in great numbers during the demonstration.

Gradually more and more people, mumbling one excuse or another, left to drown their discouragement at the closest pub; still others, embarrassed at the apparent failure of their initial enthusiasm, crept off in the night.

Which was a shame, because the handful of diggers who were still there on the second morning could see water beginning to seep into their holes - and into the abandoned ones as well. Needless to say, they grabbed their shovels and delved deeper.