in a mere three days. And so, I took the second brother for my own.
The third brother came. I would have thought that he would have been too scared to come
after the failures of his brothers, but it seems that I was mistaken. He came, with a backpack full
of supplies and sunscreen, as well as another of those triangular contraptions I so deeply detest.
He shouted: “I am not afraid of you! I shall conquer you, and finish what my brothers started, or
else die trying! Bring it on, oh mighty desert!” I at once took a liking to this brother. He has the
correct attitude. Not many people dare to talk to me like this.
The third brother is certainly resourceful. He knows how to make use of the little resources I
provide, and that is a good start.
When he ran out of water, I thought that he, like his brothers before him, would despair and
die. Alas, that did not happen. He walked up to a cactus, and started collecting water from its
inside. Many others have been too intimidated by the sharp, prickly thorns protecting the cactus
to get its water, thus paying for it with their lives.
Good thinking, I think. Good thinking. I find with surprise that I have begun to take a liking
to this man. I have decided. I will bow down to this conqueror. Just this once, I tell myself. Just
this once, I will be conquered; I will let this man go. A man of his talent and smarts is not to be
wasted. He will do good to this world. I know it.
Today at dusk, the youngest brother finally arrived at the end, where a throng of people had
gathered to await his return. Ignoring them, he shouted to the heavens: “My brothers, I have
finished what you set out to do. I honor your memory forever!” And so, he set of toward the
setting sun, pushing through the crowd. He didn’t look back.
And that, my friends, that is the new tale of the Gobi Desert, the tale of the three brothers
and I.
