Then the master hit him with a stick
He was just where they said he'd be, but I gotta tell ya he didn't look like any sort of a master. He sat there on the stoop in a beat-up old t-shirt and a pair of chinos. If you didn't know to look for him, you'd have passed him by. I made a mental shrug to myself and approached him with as much deference as I could muster. I've learned not to question what doesn't seem to make sense. Mostly. Anyway, I said to him, "Master, I've been sent to you to be shown how a man may dodge bullets." He was looking intently at a bug on the asphalt, didn't even look up as he replied, "Then whoever sent you was an idiot. A man can't dodge a bullet."
Well, I can tell you I had no idea what to do or say at that point, and just stood there feeling more than a little foolish. Then he looked up at me with those cold blue eyes and a shadowy hint of a grin on his face. "C'mere, though, let me show you something," he said. As he swayed effortlessly to his feet, the whole world seemed quieter somehow... I felt as though I'd just walked into a church. He reached over into a pile of rubbish and fished out a length of white PVC pipe, about 4 feet long maybe - thin and light - and handed it to me. I looked down at it. "What do I do with this?" I asked. He grinned just a little bit wider this time. "Well," he said, "you're going to try and hit me with it. Only to make things interesting, we'll have a rule where I'm not allowed to step out of your reach."
Suddenly I had this horrible feeling that I'd been sent there to die, not to learn anything. If that were the case, though, it hardly mattered if I played along or not. I steeled myself, set my footing, and asked, "When do we start?" "Whenever you're ready," he replied. He hadn't taken any kind of stance. He was just slouching there, looking like he might not really be paying attention. I gave myself another internal shrug and swung for his chest.
He tucked himself into a roll, passing under my swing. I brought the stick down with a backhanded chopping motion, but he'd already reversed direction. As I caught myself and swung again, low to the ground, he was suddenly back-flipping in the air, landing slightly behind me to my right. As I began to turn I saw him moving out of the corner of my eye, stepping behind me. I thought I had him this time, and suddenly spun the other direction, whipping that stick around me for all I was worth. There was nothing there but empty alleyway. He tapped me on the shoulder from behind - I think I jumped a foot - and said, "You can stop now."
I turned around and saw that he'd tapped me on the shoulder with the PVC pipe. I looked down at my hands and realized I wasn't holding it anymore. "So, what've we learned?" he grinned at me. I admit right then I couldn't think of anything very wise to say, and I was more than a little winded besides. He turned the pipe over in his hands and said, "Imagine if this pipe were incredibly deadly. So deadly that the merest touch would kill a man. I still wouldn't be dead, would I? Because you never touched me with it." He held the pipe by one end between his thumb and forefinger and pointed towards me like a child with a toy gun. "Imagine," he said, "That this pipe were the path of a bullet. I still wouldn't be dead, because I was never in the bullet's path. That's how you 'dodge bullets'. By not being where they're going to be."
I bowed as low as I could, and as he went back to sitting on the stoop I walked back down the alley the way I'd come in. I thought to myself, "It's worse than that, isn't it? A bullet's path isn't deadly all the time. Only when you pull the trigger. And you can't see exactly where it is. And it only gets worse as your target gets farther away..." I imagined a man holding a gun on the mysterious, shabby stranger, unaware of the fact that the bullet's trajectory would take it through the space between his arm and his side, not through his heart. In my mind's eye I saw that grin, and shuddered.
Well, I can tell you I had no idea what to do or say at that point, and just stood there feeling more than a little foolish. Then he looked up at me with those cold blue eyes and a shadowy hint of a grin on his face. "C'mere, though, let me show you something," he said. As he swayed effortlessly to his feet, the whole world seemed quieter somehow... I felt as though I'd just walked into a church. He reached over into a pile of rubbish and fished out a length of white PVC pipe, about 4 feet long maybe - thin and light - and handed it to me. I looked down at it. "What do I do with this?" I asked. He grinned just a little bit wider this time. "Well," he said, "you're going to try and hit me with it. Only to make things interesting, we'll have a rule where I'm not allowed to step out of your reach."
Suddenly I had this horrible feeling that I'd been sent there to die, not to learn anything. If that were the case, though, it hardly mattered if I played along or not. I steeled myself, set my footing, and asked, "When do we start?" "Whenever you're ready," he replied. He hadn't taken any kind of stance. He was just slouching there, looking like he might not really be paying attention. I gave myself another internal shrug and swung for his chest.
He tucked himself into a roll, passing under my swing. I brought the stick down with a backhanded chopping motion, but he'd already reversed direction. As I caught myself and swung again, low to the ground, he was suddenly back-flipping in the air, landing slightly behind me to my right. As I began to turn I saw him moving out of the corner of my eye, stepping behind me. I thought I had him this time, and suddenly spun the other direction, whipping that stick around me for all I was worth. There was nothing there but empty alleyway. He tapped me on the shoulder from behind - I think I jumped a foot - and said, "You can stop now."
I turned around and saw that he'd tapped me on the shoulder with the PVC pipe. I looked down at my hands and realized I wasn't holding it anymore. "So, what've we learned?" he grinned at me. I admit right then I couldn't think of anything very wise to say, and I was more than a little winded besides. He turned the pipe over in his hands and said, "Imagine if this pipe were incredibly deadly. So deadly that the merest touch would kill a man. I still wouldn't be dead, would I? Because you never touched me with it." He held the pipe by one end between his thumb and forefinger and pointed towards me like a child with a toy gun. "Imagine," he said, "That this pipe were the path of a bullet. I still wouldn't be dead, because I was never in the bullet's path. That's how you 'dodge bullets'. By not being where they're going to be."
I bowed as low as I could, and as he went back to sitting on the stoop I walked back down the alley the way I'd come in. I thought to myself, "It's worse than that, isn't it? A bullet's path isn't deadly all the time. Only when you pull the trigger. And you can't see exactly where it is. And it only gets worse as your target gets farther away..." I imagined a man holding a gun on the mysterious, shabby stranger, unaware of the fact that the bullet's trajectory would take it through the space between his arm and his side, not through his heart. In my mind's eye I saw that grin, and shuddered.