Hi Emile! Hey, you seem to think that you can't be argued with and nobody can dispute your idea of truth. Read this. Maybe you'll get the idea.
There were once a brother and a sister, Mark and Jane. They lived outside a small village, far away from the normal stream of civilization. They were young and strong. Mark spent all his spare time carving ornaments out of tree roots with his small pocketknife. His favorite carvings were of birds. He like to think that his bird carvings brought good luck.
Jane played the guitar, and was good at making up songs.
Mark and Jane had been raised to be honest, hard working, and loyal. They tried to keep promises, they tried not to tell lies. They lived by simple rules their father had taught them: Good deeds are returned in kind, bad deeds are returned in kind, and it is better to make someone laugh than to make them cry.
Sometimes they made mistakes, but they always tried to make up for what they had done. Everyone who knew them thought they were good kids.
They took over the farm completely when their father died of plague. Their mother was old now, and needed attention constantly. Times were very hard, the past winter had been cold, and the latest crop had been small. There was a constant threat of outlaws, who had been known to burn farms, kill the farmers and steal the grain.
One day, Mark said to Jane, "If we have another winter like the last one, we will all starve to death. You have heard that in Far City, the king is good and just. Let us take mother and go to Far City. There, perhaps we can find work and get better care for her. Perhaps someone will buy my carvings. Perhaps you can earn a few coins by playing your guitar."
Jane said, "It is a long journey. We don't know what we will find on the way. It could be worse than we have now. What if something terrible happens?"
Mark replied, "Father always said that he never met someone that had not done a bad thing, but there is a difference between a bad deed and a bad man. And that if we live a good life, we will succeed, and if we are bad, we will fail. I think he meant that each thing we do shows that we can control our own destiny. We have been honest and we have worked hard, but the farm may not be the best way to succeed. There are too many outlaws. I believe we can make it to Far City. If we meet with any trouble, you can play your guitar, and we'll be fine.
They told their mother the plan, and set off for the far city the next morning.
The road was rough, and they traveled slowly. On the second day, they passed a field that had been burned. The dead bodies of the farm family had been picked to the bones by carrion feeders. They made sure their mother did not see the awful sight.
On the second day, they passed another field. It appeared to be the scene of a fierce battle. There were hundreds of dead bodies, and nobody left alive.
On the third day, they passed a family that had started out for Far City but had given up. Mark asked a family member why he had given up, and he said he had been warned that his family would not be admitted to the city, so they had turned around. He would say no more.
On the fourth day, Mark and Jane and their mother saw a tent by the side of the road. Next to the tent sat and old man, cooking an animal over a fire. The old man called to them and asked if they were going to Far City. Jane called back that they were. The old man called the family over to his fire and asked them to sit down. He said that he had important news about Far City. The old man had several guns and knives, and warned Mark and Jane that he could defend himself if he were attacked by outlaws. Mark and Jane smiled and assured the old man that they were not outlaws. The old man wore a gold ring on his thumb. The gold ring sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. Jane and Mark had never seen such a ring.
The old man had a big book that he claimed was the history of Far City. He also had stacks of paper on which he had written notes about the big book about Far City. He had books full of drawings of Far City. Mark asked him what news he had, and the old man started to talk.
The old man said he had studied the book about Far City for his whole life. The book had been translated from an earlier book, and that earlier book had been translated from an even earlier book, which had been compiled from earlier writings about Far City.
He said that the history of Far City was complex, but he could tell the brothers the important parts, since he had studied the books and made all the notes. He said that a long time ago, all the people in Far City had worn silver rings. Then, a prince had decreed that all loyal subjects were to wear gold rings, and throw away their silver rings. The old man said some of the people that wore silver rings had thrown them away, and some had kept their gold rings. Time passed, and there were fights between the two groups. Each group claimed that they were loyal to the king, and each group claimed that the other group was not. The gold ring groups split up into several factions, and the silver ring groups did the same.
Some people decided to wear no ring at all, said the old man. Some decided to wear both. The old man pulled out drawings of the rings, and notes about the rings, and showed the brothers what he had studied about the rings. He showed the brothers a drawing of a ring that was identical to the one he wore. He said this was the best ring of all.
Then the old man told the brothers about the schools in Far City. He said there were lots of different schools. There were schools about how to wear rings on different fingers, and schools about what the rings should look like.
But, he said, that was all nonsense. The truth was very simple.
The truth was what the king said, according to the old man, ,and the old man said the king spoke to him. He said that if the brothers wore a ring like the one the old man wore, the king would speak to them too! He said that the truth was in the big book, and it was easy to see if you just looked. If you wore a gold ring, like the one the old man wore, you were good. If you did not wear that ring, you were bad. It was very simple.
Mark said, "But what if I have never seen such a ring? I don't have such a ring. Do you mean to say I am bad?"
"Yes, that is sad, but true." said the old man, "I love you, but you were born bad and you will die bad if you do not wear this ring. Your carvings are bad, and your sister's guitar is bad, and your mother is bad, not because I don't even know you, but because you do not wear the correct ring. But, do not fret. I have several gold rings, and I will give you each one. I made them myself, from a design that I invented after years of study of the big book. The king says you must wear this ring. The book says so. All my notes prove it. My design is the only correct design. See here; my notes prove I am right. One day, all the people in Far City will wear this ring, and the king will be happy at last. The king has said that on that day there will be a great feast. The king will be there. It is all here in my notes. You are invited, if you wear this ring! All you need to do to get one is to tell me I am right."
"But old man," said Jane, "what if I do not wear a ring? What if I wear silver rings?"
"Then you will not go to the feast!" said the old man.
"What of the people in Far City that wear the silver ring?" asked Mark.
"They have made the wrong choice. They must be exterminated" said the old man.
"Exterminated?" said Mark. "By whom?"
"By you, of course!" said the old man. "It's all in the big book. It is the king's will! It is all in my notes!"
The old man read from his notes.
"This is simple. You wear my ring. I tell the king you are now a loyal subject just like me, I tell you what the king says, he says to kill the people with the silver rings, you go kill the people with the silver rings, and we all go to the feast! If you don't wear my ring, you are bad. Your carvings are bad, your guitar is bad, your songs are bad, and there is nothing you can do about it. Did you see that field of dead bodies back on the road? My friends killed those unbelievers, they would not wear the ring! We had to do it, we had no choice. It is the king's will. Did you see the bones of the farmer's family? They thought that I was wrong! We had to kill them, it was for their own good. They are in hell now, because they would not tell me I am right."
"As a matter of fact," said the old man, " the real truth is this: my friends and I don't really care about the rings. I can't speak the language that the big book was originally written in, and even if I could, it wouldn't matter. The only thing that matters is what I say is true. If I say it, it is true. If you don't agree with me, you are wrong. If you don't agree with me, then you are a threat to me and my friends. If you are a threat, we have to kill you. It's the king's will. This is simple. Anyone in the Far City that does not wear my ring must die. It is because I love you and want the king to be happy and want you to go to the big feast that I do these things. It is the king's will, I am just his messenger. I speak for the king. It is not my fault if you do not understand that I am right and you are wrong. You are the one that makes the final decision, wear my ring, or die."
At that moment, a shadow crossed over the old man.
The old man looked up, terrified. Six shots rang out, all six hit the old man. He gasped and fell over, dead.
Mark and Jane were startled, and looked behind them. There stood a large man holding a very large pistol and wearing a crown.
"Who are you?" asked Jane.
"I'm the king of Far City," said the large man. "I've been wondering why tourism has dropped off. The people in Far City seemed to be upset about something. I heard a rumor that some nut case was claiming he spoke for me and was murdering people that didn't wear some stupid ring he invented. I recognized that old man. He was causing trouble in the city, inciting riots, making people feel worse all the time, you know the type, so I had him kicked out about a year ago. But he didn't get the message. Now, maybe, he has."
"So the story he told about the rings was a lie?" asked Mark.
"Yeah, he was a real bad boy. There was some truth in his story, but only enough to help him make you think he was telling the whole truth. He was a clever dude! But, I don't need anyone to speak for me. If you want to hear what I have to say, just listen to me. You don't need some psychopath to 'interpret' what I say." said the king.
"Hopefully at some point, we will be able to get rid of all the jackasses that need everyone that doesn't believe exactly what they believe to die. We would have had that big feast a long time ago were it not for people like him. Can you imagine killing people because they don't wear the right ring? Get real! It's been going on for so long, I can hardly believe it. Hats, rings, shirts, you name it. We even had some woman one time that sat out here in a field and claimed to be me!"
The king continued, "I myself don't give a rat's ass what kind of ring you wear, or what color your hat is, or where you go on Sunday, or Saturday, or anything else, as long as you make a positive contribution to Far City and stay out of trouble. Anyone who claims otherwise is a lying sack of shinola. We're just a bunch of people, all different, trying to make their way through life and get to the big feast. I like the differences in people, I think that's one of the things that makes life interesting. The damned criminals and nutbars like that old man are the only ones that we have to really worry about. Everything would run smooth if they would just get a clue, you know? I hate people that try to piss other people off on purpose. And I hate people that claim they speak for me. But the worst are the truly evil ones that claim they know me and sit in judgment of good people that they don't know and tell them they are going to hell because they are not wearing a gold ring or whatever other absurd idea they have dreamed up to make themselves feel better about their dismal lives. I know two things about them; first, no matter what cause they pretend to emulate, they are in truth, the only really evil people in the world, and second, they will never see they are wrong. I put them out of their misery every chance I get. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. If you want to be loyal to me, just make sure you say good words and do good deeds. Everyone in Far City, and everyone else, even those that have never heard of Far City, is free to find their own path to the feast. And remember, like my Chief of Police says, what goes around, comes around."
"That's what my father used to say!" said Mark.
"Well, your father was obviously a wise man." replied the king. "You boys look hungry, and your mother looks tired," said the king. "You are welcome in Far City. Let's have some dinner at my camp, Far City is just over that next hill, we can all go together tomorrow morning. Your mother will be fine, don't worry."
"Jane, I see you play the guitar, perhaps you can play us some songs? And by the way, Mark, I've been looking for a birthday present for the queen. She's the one that actually does all the work. Is that carving for sale?"
And they all laughed.
(For the history buffs, the old man's papers blew away, and he was not heard from again. The feast eventually took place, and the Chief of Police retired because there was nothing to do. As for the old man's notes, I saved a few pieces of old dirty scrap paper that I found under a rock. They had a funny smell, and I don't know how they relate to this fable, or even if they have any relevance to any of this...maybe you can figure it out. Here they are.)
Message 5469944
Message 5409850
Message 5328202
Message 5293277
Message 5292857
Message 5287883
Message 5287180
Message 5262287
Message 5258709
Message 5258606
Message 5258569
Message 5240075
Message 5216951 |
