"But there are always those who are different."
His tone began to rise.
"There are always those who press their ears to the wall. They cannot bear not knowing."
"They hear a sound, and so they want to know what lies on the other side of the wall."
"They chisel through the wall and see the pipes."
He paused, letting the image of "pipes" settle in the minds of more than five hundred people.
"They follow the pipes deeper in and discover that they connect to a larger network, which connects to a water tower, beneath which runs an underground river."
"Where does the underground river lead? They do not know, but they keep walking."
His hand rose from the edge of the podium and lightly pointed toward the audience below.
His index finger pointed at the ground, as though indicating the flagstones beneath their feet, or somewhere deeper beneath those stones.
Someone in the audience followed his finger down with their eyes, then hurriedly looked away.
"Cicero once said something."
"Non nobis solum nati sumus. We are not born for ourselves alone."
"He was not speaking of political duty, much less civic responsibility."
"He was speaking of... things that are bigger than your room, longer than your life."
"You may choose to remain in your room, shut the doors and windows, and treat the sound of water in the pipes as an illusion.
Most people live their entire lives that way—safe, warm, and blissfully unaware."
"Or you may choose to press your ear to the wall."
"Choose to chisel through it and step into the world behind the pipes."
"That world may be colder, darker, more dangerous than your room.
The pipes may be cracked, and there may be things in the underground river you have never seen."
"But