A truthful answer to any question that burned away at a subconscious can be a blessing and a curse. Sometimes, we just don’t want to hear the answer. -SY

The stand was near the back of the flea-market, wedged between a crumbling brick wall and another stand where a young woman was selling tie-dyed pants. The sign above it read “Edna Lewis’ Yes/No box. Your questions answered”.

Below that, someone had taped a piece of cardboard with the words “Closing down: All answers half price. Today only!” handwritten in red marker.

I was intrigued, so I stepped up to the stand. An old bald man with a thick, almost white beard looked up from his book.

“Can I help you?” he asked, with a slight Dutch accent.

“What’s this about?” I asked, pointing at his box, the sign.

He reached below the desk and pulled out a box, jet black, about the size of a biscuit tin.

“You give me 50c,” he said, “then you ask your question here.” He pointed to a small protrusion on the side of the box. A microphone, I guessed.

“Then,” he continued, “if the question has a yes or no answer, one of these two lights will blink.” He pointed at a green and red light in turn. “Green for yes, red for no.”

“And it’ll give me the right answer?”

“Yes. Yes,” he said, sharply.

“Impossible.”

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