» Fiction

The Puzzle Committee

R.M. Fradkin

We, the members of The Puzzle Committee, are here to help. You will stay until you complete the puzzle. No one will be allowed to leave until we have successfully completed the puzzle.
Snack breaks are allowed, within reason. If we suspect you are taking snack breaks to avoid working on the puzzle, your snack privileges will be revoked. Ditto for using the bathroom.
If you’re not sure whether two pieces fit together, we, The Committee, will decide. You say these are a perfect fit, and yet they wiggle. We know a fit when we see it, like pornography. See, these present not a shadow of a doubt. Nothing can come between these two.

That is why sometimes it is necessary to visit The Committee.
If you haven’t yet completed the border, might we recommend that as a good place to start? It’s always useful to circumscribe endless possibilities with an impenetrable border. Sorting out the edge pieces also gives extraordinary satisfaction. Filling in the border will take longer, of course, but we must not deny ourselves that sweet feeling of accomplishment.
At this point, there are several courses of action we could recommend. We might pursue an image/color scheme, in which the pieces are sorted and assembled based on their relative hues and whatever hints of object can be capitalized on. On the other hand, we might pursue a solely shape-based scheme in which the pieces are sorted like so:
The four-hole is a seeking, yearning piece, often frightening because of the gaping depth of his need.

One-knobs are aware they have but one thing to give, but they give it well.

The double-knob is the most perplexing, as he comes in the standard, opposite-wing variety, as well as the unbalanced varietal, which often tilts into irresponsibility.

Finally, we come to the triple and quadruple-knobs, the scarcest of our breeds:

These exotic birds know their worth and give themselves to the other pieces but rarely.
We could also pursue a hybrid image-based and shape-based scheme, but we might get mired in the quandary of whether to put a piece with his knobbed companions, or whether he should go with his color-mates—the mossy greens, for example, or the leafy ones.
To use the box or not to use the box. That question has absorbed us and inspired much debate in our ranks over the years. As The Committee itself has not come to a final decision on this matter, you may use the box for now, if you wish. However, you will have to endure the knowledge of having used the box and the resulting diminished sense of purpose for the rest of your life.
We notice some of you hover around the snack table longer than is absolutely necessary to procure provisions. We remind you of the potential consequences of these actions.
Although it may seem that we, The Puzzle Committee, have all the time in the world, in fact, we do not. Outside wait families, couples, organizations, hospital wards, and bands of friends who have come to us to help them make their puzzles whole. While perfection is our ultimate goal, perfection completed with a sense of urgency is preferable.
We, The Committee, are no strangers to unraveling. We lost some of our number in the acrimonious Boxers vs. Not-Boxers Schism of ’99, although we spend our waking hours and our not-inconsiderable mental powers fighting for cohesion. That is why no one can rest until every piece is together. That is why no one can leave.