A symbol

Once upon a time, a man looked into an ink blot. It made a very distinct shape, but it had no real meaning to anyone else. That man, however, saw something special in it. It was a symbol. It could be anything. It could be an omen of death, a beacon of hope, or simply an ink blot.

This man decided it ought to be shared. His reason? Unclear. After all, it was simply an ink blot. Still, for whatever unfathomable purpose, he made dozens upon dozens of photocopies, and then hung them around town. And it didn't take long for people to notice.

The average passerby would stop and stare. What was it? Some... butterfly (As the children said)? Was it a face (as pareidolia struck)? It was just an ink blot. Though, others made much more of it. The extraterrestrial eccentrics saw it as the symbol of their new masters, soon to descend in their flying saucers. The overtly religious deemed it some satanic ritual, and took to gathering the fliers and disposing of them. The police took note of it, fearing it as the sign of some gang or terrorist group. The conspiracy theorists began fervently planning and plotting. And of course, some simply believed a lunatic had gotten his hands on a photocopier (Was this true? Perhaps. But we will never know).

The news made a fuss of it. Who? What? Where? When? And most of all, why? Again, they would never know why, nor even who and what. But where? Everywhere. The symbol spread into every nook and cranny of the city. Like a ravenous beast, the symbol began to shift and spread, consuming the entirety of the country, then continent, then world (And as the UFO fanatics stubbornly insisted, the rest of the universe, where it had even come into contact with the aliens). Experts from around the globe studied it. Did it have certain cultural significance? Was it an ancient symbol, unearthed and brimming with yet-to-be-deciphered knowledge?

Many attempted to give the symbol some kind of meaning. It was a symbol of the gods. It was a symbol of creativity and artwork. It was simultaneously a symbol of free speech and of suppression. Some gave it beauty and value. Still, others took it up as the face of violence, hatred, and destruction.

It was just an ink blot. That was all that the man had spread. Was it his fault? Did he mean for any of this to happen?

But it was just an ink blot.

And this was what I thought of.