The sun set, pulling its light behind itself. Jaine tried to monitor the shadows creeping over the trees, but they seemed to only move when she blinked. Darkness fell, and Jaine waited. Crickets had come out for their nightly orchestra, always tuning but never playing. They did not bother Jaine, but the self-absorbed croaking of the tree frogs did. The crickets seemed to hum to amuse themselves, but frogs were determined to steal attention. Hmmm sang the crickets. Grooooock! interrupted the frogs.
Crunch, went the leaves to Jaine’s left. Jaine looked for her monster, seeing only a little man with silver curls that swirled around his head. He wore a gray suit and red tie, and had nothing peculiar about his appearance but overly bushy eyebrows, which splayed outward as if they were wings. Jaine felt strengthened by the ridiculousness of his eyebrows.
“Hello,” she greeted the stranger. “Who are you?”
“Greetings, Lady Jaine,” replied the stranger. “Have you been comfortable?”
“I have been comfortable, sir, but I am not presently.” Jaine adjusted against her ropes. “Are you here to let me down?”
“Oh, heavens, no. You’re a hazard.” The man sat at the edge of her alter and looked up at her.
“Are you the reason I’m here?” Jaine asked.
“No, you are the reason you are here.”
“But you caused me to be here.”
“Yes.”
Jaine thought. “So I suppose that virgin sacrifice was a bit of nonsense?”
“Oh, no. That is an important factor. You see, you are here because you perform as
you believe, and considering the beliefs you have talked about in the village today,
you are very dangerous.”
“…So you don’t fulfill your beliefs, thus you are safe to society? Is that what you
are saying? If you believe I am dangerous and should be tied to a post, but that
acting on your beliefs is dangerous, you should let me go free for fear of being
dangerous yourself.”
“No, no,” the man shook his head. “I’m not dangerous, because I believe true things.
You believe false things and spread your malicious gospel, thus you are dangerous.”
“Wait, what?” Jaine blinked rapidly. The tree frogs croaked loudly at that moment,
further stupefying her.
“You are promoting the spread of your dogmatism through brutal and demeaning
methods. I disagree with your underdeveloped, biased worldview, but must oppose you
when you attempt foisting your beliefs on others. There is no beast in these hills
to devour you except in your imagination, but I wish there were one to dispose of
you and all your kind.”
“Good…sir…” Jaine sputtered. “I don’t understand your defamation of my beliefs and
actions, and while apparently your worldview is different from mine, I don’t see how
differing with your beliefs makes mine incorrect. What is your worldview?”
The man straightened his tie. “My worldview is based on scientific studies of the
moon, its orbital patterns, surface structure, volcanic eruptions, eclipses, and
atmosphere. You bludgeon my students with talk of ultimate standards and theories on
right and wrong, which cannot be scientifically proven.”
“I don’t see your point. And what do you mean by your students? You are a professor
at the university?”
The man sat straighter. “No. I am the president of the university.”
“Ah.” Jaine felt her thoughts align. “That makes sense; so Bedlam is under your
command, and apparently your tutelage. Yes, I see the correlation – his drivel was
too rote to be original, so I assumed he had learned it. So his half-applied
trumpery about tolerance and cultures deciding their own standards came from you?”
“Half-applied?”
“Yes – lectures on tolerance seem to only be applied to the listener. Let us resume
my point. How can you claim to disprove my philosophies by studying the moon?”
“Your theories are not measurable. I can explain everything I want to know by
applying science to them – measuring and testing my results. You cannot prove your
theories, thus they are meaningless. You breathe empty hypotheses into empty minds.”
“I didn’t know I had such influence!” Jaine felt complimented. “Tell me, though –
you say you can explain everything you want to know by science and your studies of
the moon, but can you explain what I want to know?”
“What is it?
“Why is the moon pretty?”
The president looked at her sourly. “It isn’t, innately. Beauty isn’t something that
exists independently of human perception.”
“Then what is it that I feel when I see something I call beautiful?”
“When you see something that you call beautiful, it releases positive hormones in
your brain - what little you have of one.”
“But why?”
“I suppose you like the moon.”
“Why do I like it? I don’t have any biological associations with it – it doesn’t
remind me of a good meal, or a handsome face, and it isn’t as useful as a candle
when I read after dark.”
“I don’t know what positive associations you have made with the moon,” insisted the
president.
“So according to you,” Jaine pressed, “beauty is a name for a reaction to biological
preference or positive association?”
“Yes.” The president looked more intently at her. “It is a shame – you are not as I expected. I could have done something with your mind at my university, if it were not so riddled with inherited myths.”
“My mind or my brain?” smiled Jaine. “Wouldn’t my mind be an abstraction created by my brain out of a desire to exist independently from a fleshly body reliant on electrical impulses?”
The president sighed. “You nearly make me regret my decision to leave you here. You seem intelligent – perhaps you are not incorrigible?”
“I assure you, I am,” beamed Jaine, “if by incorrigible you mean I refuse to believe that truth and beauty are fictions, and that morality varies by location. What is more, I cannot accept your beliefs as you have yet to disprove mine – mine are still perfectly functional. I believe that something can be true even if it cannot be scientifically proven, so you can’t tell me that I am errant because I can’t prove scientifically that not everything needs to be proven scientifically. You, however, seem to ignore ideas that you don’t want to believe. How is that intellectually honest?”
“My dear,” the president said as he stood, “you are stupid.”
“Is disagreeing with you the test for that? That doesn’t seem very scientific.”
The president left. Jaine was still tied to the pole.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
The Adventures of Lady Jaine, part 4
The door opened. Jaine felt arms slip under hers and drag her into damp darkness.
She saw the flash of fire and felt the heat of Tolerance’s last attempt at charring her before the door closed and blocked the light. From behind the door, she could hear Tolerance’s frustrated coughs.
Realized she had not breathed during these last long seconds, Jaine gasped and felt the floor for her dictionary. The stones of the floor were rough from limited use.
“Hel- *cough* -lo?” she sputtered. “Thank you?” Victoriously, Jaine’s fingertips brushed the leather of her dictionary, which she reclaimed and clutched to her chest.
She heard a match strike and smelled sulfur. A dim light which grew as flame caught onto torch.
“My Lady Jaine,” a voice said. Jaine didn’t recognize the voice until she saw Bedlam’s teeth gleam into a smile.
“Oh…good gracious…”
“…loveliness and vivacity. I am so lucky to find you here, my lady, for though I knew we would meet again, I had only hoped it would be so soon.”
Jaine stood shakily. “Yes, how adventitious it was that you wander university dungeons.”
“Oh, it wasn’t lucky at all.” Bedlam smiled wider. “I was looking for you.”
“You are right – that is decidedly unlucky.”
The light had grown so Jaine could view her surroundings. They were at the
end of a hall, with crude etchings decorating stone walls. Moisture seeped through
the mortar.
Bedlam made a disapproving sound. “Here I save your life, and yet you act
repulsed by me. Should you not thank your savior?”
“I should, though I am. Thank you, Bedlam.” She curtseyed.
“You are welcome. Now, follow me.”
Jaine followed. She was glad to know the right direction out of the dungeon,
especially considering that she needed to return to the ogress’ tower before her
freedom expired.
Bedlam led her down one hall and through another, up one set of stairs, and, to Jaine’s concern, back down another set.
“I didn’t know the university is so large,” Jaine said.
“It isn’t. There are several underground tunnels which lead away from the
university. I know them all.”
“How clever of you. Where does this way take us?”
“Where you want to go.”
Silence pervaded. “But,” began Jaine, “I haven’t told you where I want to
go, and you certainly can’t decipher my mind as you haven’t bothered understanding
my words. How do you know where I want to go?”
Bedlam turned to her and smiled. “I lied. This is actually where I want to
go, but people go farther with me when they think that I’m taking them where they
want. The odd thing is, they usually have no preconceived desired direction.
We have come quite far already, and you’ve just assumed I was taking you where you wanted. It wasn’t until you asked that you thought I might take you a different way.
People are so trusting.”
Jaine had paused during this speech, aghast at her own naiveté. Then she ran in direction they had come.
Bedlam caught her quickly, but suffered several blows from her dictionary
before he was able to bind her wrists. Jaine was carried several paces before she
submitted to walking behind her captor.
“Beguiling sycophant,” Jaine muttered. “Bilkering, fraudulent, prevaricating
fabricator.” Synonyms always made Jaine feel better. “But they are inaccurate, and
far too complimentary,” she sighed. “Witless, naïf, gullible, credulous, artless to the ostensible…”
“You’re not talking about me anymore, are you?” asked Bedlam.
“No,” replied Jaine mournfully.
“Too bad. I liked it.”
They walked in silence through the rest of the tunnels. Eventually they
reached a door with light peaking though the crevices, and when Bedlam opened it, Jaine had to blink many times for her eyes to adjust to the abundance of nature. They were in the woods, or a forest, and though she spun around to look, Jaine could not see a clearing. There were only trees, rocks, and shadows to guide her, and Jaine could not make a map from any of them. Contrary to popular belief, the sun did not always set in West. The window in the ogress’ cave faced West, and a pine tree grew on the horizon, directly in the middle of the view. Jaine was sure she had noticed the sun sometimes setting to the right and sometimes the left of that tree, and she knew that it often changed times of setting and rising. Who could possibly navigate by such a fickle celestial body?
Thus abandoned, Jaine postponed her escape.
They strode through the forest until they reached a path. Following a path encouraged Jaine, until she realized the path inclined, and they were climbing a large hill. Jaine’s foot slipped on loose rocks and she fell painfully on one knee.
“You must be tired,” Bedlam consoled. “After all, you’ve been running through my mind all day. Shall I help – no? No need to glare, my lady; It isn’t becoming. We have almost reached our destination, though. I would let you rest, but it is almost sundown.”
When they reached the top of the hill, Bedlam led Jaine to an arrangement of stones, set up like an alter. A post stood out from the middle of the stones, and Bedlam tied her to it.
Curiosity burst forth from Jaine. “Where are we? And why did you bring me here?”
“Who is to say?” he responded.
“You, as you brought me here.”
“Well, I’m not actually supposed to tell you.” Bedlam considered. “But since you won’t be around much longer…”
“You’re leaving me here to die?”
“Who knows…”
“You, again. However, if you have a change of decision, or at last construct
a decision out of your bog of irresolution, you could untie me and take me home. Then you don’t have to reveal any confidence, or bother about who is or isn’t saying, knowing, or vacillating on essentials.”
“I could, but that jeopardizes my ambiguity. Think of what could happen to
my career if I upheld something!”
“Truth and justice would indeed stand shocked,” agreed Jaine. She adjusted her bonds against the post, but could not loosen them. “Would you concede on revealing the purpose of my presence here, though?”
Bedlam considered. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now that you are already here. My superiors commissioned me to leave a virgin sacrifice on the Mount of Enlightenment, and you were the only one I knew.”
“What!”
“…Which, that is your own fault, by the way. I offered you freedom from such
conservatism earlier, but you clung to your inhibitions. How outdated of you.”
“Outdated? You’re the one sacrificing me to a monster!” Jaine’s voice rose and her face flushed.
“Sacrifice sounds so like you are going to be eaten or mangled,” worried
Bedlam. “Don’t panic so much.”
“Are you saying I’m not going to be eaten?”
“Well… you probably are. I’m not sure. Who’s to say.”
“Oh!” Jaine fought tears, and felt as though she had something stuck in her
throat.
“Oh?”
“Go away.”
“Really? Some company might be nice for you in your last few hours.”
“Hours? I have hours?”
“Who knows.”
“Go away!”
“But I could-”
“Get-get-get out! Ah! No one should see me decend to stultiloquence. Leave
me in peace!” Jaine turned her face away from him.
“If you wish. Don’t take it too hard, though. I’m just following orders.”
“Your willing subordination to malevolence does not comfort me.”
“Well, it does me. Who knows. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Who knows…” whispered Jaine.
Bedlam left her.
She saw the flash of fire and felt the heat of Tolerance’s last attempt at charring her before the door closed and blocked the light. From behind the door, she could hear Tolerance’s frustrated coughs.
Realized she had not breathed during these last long seconds, Jaine gasped and felt the floor for her dictionary. The stones of the floor were rough from limited use.
“Hel- *cough* -lo?” she sputtered. “Thank you?” Victoriously, Jaine’s fingertips brushed the leather of her dictionary, which she reclaimed and clutched to her chest.
She heard a match strike and smelled sulfur. A dim light which grew as flame caught onto torch.
“My Lady Jaine,” a voice said. Jaine didn’t recognize the voice until she saw Bedlam’s teeth gleam into a smile.
“Oh…good gracious…”
“…loveliness and vivacity. I am so lucky to find you here, my lady, for though I knew we would meet again, I had only hoped it would be so soon.”
Jaine stood shakily. “Yes, how adventitious it was that you wander university dungeons.”
“Oh, it wasn’t lucky at all.” Bedlam smiled wider. “I was looking for you.”
“You are right – that is decidedly unlucky.”
The light had grown so Jaine could view her surroundings. They were at the
end of a hall, with crude etchings decorating stone walls. Moisture seeped through
the mortar.
Bedlam made a disapproving sound. “Here I save your life, and yet you act
repulsed by me. Should you not thank your savior?”
“I should, though I am. Thank you, Bedlam.” She curtseyed.
“You are welcome. Now, follow me.”
Jaine followed. She was glad to know the right direction out of the dungeon,
especially considering that she needed to return to the ogress’ tower before her
freedom expired.
Bedlam led her down one hall and through another, up one set of stairs, and, to Jaine’s concern, back down another set.
“I didn’t know the university is so large,” Jaine said.
“It isn’t. There are several underground tunnels which lead away from the
university. I know them all.”
“How clever of you. Where does this way take us?”
“Where you want to go.”
Silence pervaded. “But,” began Jaine, “I haven’t told you where I want to
go, and you certainly can’t decipher my mind as you haven’t bothered understanding
my words. How do you know where I want to go?”
Bedlam turned to her and smiled. “I lied. This is actually where I want to
go, but people go farther with me when they think that I’m taking them where they
want. The odd thing is, they usually have no preconceived desired direction.
We have come quite far already, and you’ve just assumed I was taking you where you wanted. It wasn’t until you asked that you thought I might take you a different way.
People are so trusting.”
Jaine had paused during this speech, aghast at her own naiveté. Then she ran in direction they had come.
Bedlam caught her quickly, but suffered several blows from her dictionary
before he was able to bind her wrists. Jaine was carried several paces before she
submitted to walking behind her captor.
“Beguiling sycophant,” Jaine muttered. “Bilkering, fraudulent, prevaricating
fabricator.” Synonyms always made Jaine feel better. “But they are inaccurate, and
far too complimentary,” she sighed. “Witless, naïf, gullible, credulous, artless to the ostensible…”
“You’re not talking about me anymore, are you?” asked Bedlam.
“No,” replied Jaine mournfully.
“Too bad. I liked it.”
They walked in silence through the rest of the tunnels. Eventually they
reached a door with light peaking though the crevices, and when Bedlam opened it, Jaine had to blink many times for her eyes to adjust to the abundance of nature. They were in the woods, or a forest, and though she spun around to look, Jaine could not see a clearing. There were only trees, rocks, and shadows to guide her, and Jaine could not make a map from any of them. Contrary to popular belief, the sun did not always set in West. The window in the ogress’ cave faced West, and a pine tree grew on the horizon, directly in the middle of the view. Jaine was sure she had noticed the sun sometimes setting to the right and sometimes the left of that tree, and she knew that it often changed times of setting and rising. Who could possibly navigate by such a fickle celestial body?
Thus abandoned, Jaine postponed her escape.
They strode through the forest until they reached a path. Following a path encouraged Jaine, until she realized the path inclined, and they were climbing a large hill. Jaine’s foot slipped on loose rocks and she fell painfully on one knee.
“You must be tired,” Bedlam consoled. “After all, you’ve been running through my mind all day. Shall I help – no? No need to glare, my lady; It isn’t becoming. We have almost reached our destination, though. I would let you rest, but it is almost sundown.”
When they reached the top of the hill, Bedlam led Jaine to an arrangement of stones, set up like an alter. A post stood out from the middle of the stones, and Bedlam tied her to it.
Curiosity burst forth from Jaine. “Where are we? And why did you bring me here?”
“Who is to say?” he responded.
“You, as you brought me here.”
“Well, I’m not actually supposed to tell you.” Bedlam considered. “But since you won’t be around much longer…”
“You’re leaving me here to die?”
“Who knows…”
“You, again. However, if you have a change of decision, or at last construct
a decision out of your bog of irresolution, you could untie me and take me home. Then you don’t have to reveal any confidence, or bother about who is or isn’t saying, knowing, or vacillating on essentials.”
“I could, but that jeopardizes my ambiguity. Think of what could happen to
my career if I upheld something!”
“Truth and justice would indeed stand shocked,” agreed Jaine. She adjusted her bonds against the post, but could not loosen them. “Would you concede on revealing the purpose of my presence here, though?”
Bedlam considered. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now that you are already here. My superiors commissioned me to leave a virgin sacrifice on the Mount of Enlightenment, and you were the only one I knew.”
“What!”
“…Which, that is your own fault, by the way. I offered you freedom from such
conservatism earlier, but you clung to your inhibitions. How outdated of you.”
“Outdated? You’re the one sacrificing me to a monster!” Jaine’s voice rose and her face flushed.
“Sacrifice sounds so like you are going to be eaten or mangled,” worried
Bedlam. “Don’t panic so much.”
“Are you saying I’m not going to be eaten?”
“Well… you probably are. I’m not sure. Who’s to say.”
“Oh!” Jaine fought tears, and felt as though she had something stuck in her
throat.
“Oh?”
“Go away.”
“Really? Some company might be nice for you in your last few hours.”
“Hours? I have hours?”
“Who knows.”
“Go away!”
“But I could-”
“Get-get-get out! Ah! No one should see me decend to stultiloquence. Leave
me in peace!” Jaine turned her face away from him.
“If you wish. Don’t take it too hard, though. I’m just following orders.”
“Your willing subordination to malevolence does not comfort me.”
“Well, it does me. Who knows. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Who knows…” whispered Jaine.
Bedlam left her.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The Adventures of Lady Jaine, Part 3
Finding the hall deserted, Jaine realized she did not remember which way she had come. She chose a direction, and a short way down the hall, found a stair case. As she started down it, she noticed that at the beginning it was well carved and seemed sturdy, but the descent showed a decline in craftsmanship. Whereas she started on a wide stone staircase, she found herself creaking down old wooden planks. There had been no landing, no access to other floors from this staircase, and when she thought about it, Jaine could not remember at exactly which points the stairs
declined in quality.
“How strange,” she thought. “I usually consider myself observant.”
The stairs had led her to a basement, or perhaps a dungeon, whichever is fouler smelling. Though it did not appear the stairs had taken her anywhere useful, Jaine saw that they were well lit with torches.
“Hello,” said a voice from a shadow. “Who are you?”
“I am Lady Jaine,” she replied. “Who are you, what is your purpose, and how did you get here? And, where are you?”
Jaine peered into the darkness. The last torch left a quivering pool of light at the bottom of the staircase. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the reflection of cat-eyes in a corner.
“You may call me Tolerance.” The eyes moved closer, and a head appeared in the circle of light.
“Why! You’re a dragon!” Jaine gasped.
Tolerance sighed, exhaling a wisp of fire. “Yes, I am a dragon. And you are a human. Is that a reason why we cannot trust each other?”
“Yes - because dragons eat humans.”
“That is only in actuality. Theoretically I believe in the inherent worth of every creature, its right to live and prosper and speak freely about its belief system, and its choice of diet.”
“Oh.” Jaine eased her grip on the staircase banister, where she had clung since first seeing the dragon. “That makes me feel better. Please, tell me more about what you believe.”
Tolerance settled himself cat-like in the darkness, shuffling his hind-quarters as he lay down, and wrapping his
tail as far as it would go around his body. The end flicked back and forth restlessly. “I shall tell you of my hopes and desires for this world: I desire for everyone to treat each other as equals, to celebrate one another’s diversity, to have freedom of speech, and be tolerant of everyone else’s beliefs. I am old, very old, and have seen many wars. People fight one another, not agreeing, not respecting anyone but themselves. And everyone should respect himself, but everyone should respect everyone else, too.”
“What happens when people disagree?” Jaine asked. She positioned herself at the opposite edge of light, facing the dragon. She clutched her dictionary behind her back.
“They should disagree respectfully.”
Jaine considered this. “What happens when two persons disagree over something that concerns them both?”
“They should settle it in a way that that harms neither of them.”
“Interesting… I have a slight problem with this though. Actually, it’s mainly with you. I think dragons are parasitic worms that deserve the sword on all occasions, and I also long for the day when a string of St. Georges come and smite the lot of you. You see,” she continued, “I believe that I am morally and innately superior to you. I also despise dragons for their lust for gold and jewels, especially since they do not create these possessions themselves, but steal them. What do you think of that?”
The dragon thought about this. “I acknowledge your opinions, and choose to tolerate them.”
“What if I act on them? What if I believe I am morally bound to kill any dragon I see?”
“That isn’t very tolerant of you,” Tolerance scolded.
“Yes, but tolerance isn’t a part of my belief system, but killing dragons is. What are going to do about that?”
“Well, I can’t tolerate that.”
“Isn’t that intolerant of you?”
“But it was intolerant of you not to tolerate me in the first place, so the greater intolerance yours… perhaps?” Tolerance considered this.
Jaine continued her argument. “How would this putting down of intolerance occur? By a higher authority? Are they also the ones deciding what is tolerable and what isn’t? I think your measure of tolerability is insufficient, by the way. Some think it is acceptable to injure persons. Others think just hurting another’s feelings is unacceptable. By whose standards are you going to judge the world?”
“The good ones,” Tolerance answered confidently.
“And which are those? The ones that align with…?”
“Tolerance.”
“…Ah,” said Jaine.
The two sat in silence.
“Tolerance?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe we can ignore for the moment the vital issue of whose morality decides the level of acceptable intolerability. How are you going to moderate intolerance?”
“Hmmm…” Tolerance grumbled. “Well, first, I shall make the intolerant very unpopular.”
“An obvious move. What if they don’t care about popularity?”
“Then I would make laws about the intolerant, not letting them do or say intolerant things.”
“And if they do and say them anyway?”
“Then I shall fine them and take their gold for their intolerance.”
“Oh, but people are so stubbornly intolerant!” Jaine insisted. “What if they decide their opinions are more
important than their gold?”
“More important than…! Well, then I shall lock them away in a dungeon, like this.”
“Send them to the dungeon until they become more tolerant or die? That sounds counterproductive. Sending people to
jail for being intolerant may only increase the indignation against those whom they were not tolerating.”
“Quite true,” the dragon agreed. “That is very bad for me. Intolerant people give me such indigestion – they are too
tough and stringy. I much prefer the tolerant. They usually have an extra bit of fat on them. They are delicious
when seared.”
Silence filled the dungeon. The silence was shortly replaced by Tolerance’s flames, which blew out of his nostrils
and cackled as it consumed spiderwebs and dust around the stair landing. He started the flame where it did not touch
her, but it was near enough she felt shocked by the heat. She jumped back from the stair landing and stumbled into
the dungeon. The light hurt Lady Jaine’s eyes, though in the moment before her vision went white, she saw that just
beyond the landing where her sight was previously limited were piles of bones of those whom the dragon had
previously tolerated.
Jaine tripped over bones and fell against a door she had not seen.
declined in quality.
“How strange,” she thought. “I usually consider myself observant.”
The stairs had led her to a basement, or perhaps a dungeon, whichever is fouler smelling. Though it did not appear the stairs had taken her anywhere useful, Jaine saw that they were well lit with torches.
“Hello,” said a voice from a shadow. “Who are you?”
“I am Lady Jaine,” she replied. “Who are you, what is your purpose, and how did you get here? And, where are you?”
Jaine peered into the darkness. The last torch left a quivering pool of light at the bottom of the staircase. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the reflection of cat-eyes in a corner.
“You may call me Tolerance.” The eyes moved closer, and a head appeared in the circle of light.
“Why! You’re a dragon!” Jaine gasped.
Tolerance sighed, exhaling a wisp of fire. “Yes, I am a dragon. And you are a human. Is that a reason why we cannot trust each other?”
“Yes - because dragons eat humans.”
“That is only in actuality. Theoretically I believe in the inherent worth of every creature, its right to live and prosper and speak freely about its belief system, and its choice of diet.”
“Oh.” Jaine eased her grip on the staircase banister, where she had clung since first seeing the dragon. “That makes me feel better. Please, tell me more about what you believe.”
Tolerance settled himself cat-like in the darkness, shuffling his hind-quarters as he lay down, and wrapping his
tail as far as it would go around his body. The end flicked back and forth restlessly. “I shall tell you of my hopes and desires for this world: I desire for everyone to treat each other as equals, to celebrate one another’s diversity, to have freedom of speech, and be tolerant of everyone else’s beliefs. I am old, very old, and have seen many wars. People fight one another, not agreeing, not respecting anyone but themselves. And everyone should respect himself, but everyone should respect everyone else, too.”
“What happens when people disagree?” Jaine asked. She positioned herself at the opposite edge of light, facing the dragon. She clutched her dictionary behind her back.
“They should disagree respectfully.”
Jaine considered this. “What happens when two persons disagree over something that concerns them both?”
“They should settle it in a way that that harms neither of them.”
“Interesting… I have a slight problem with this though. Actually, it’s mainly with you. I think dragons are parasitic worms that deserve the sword on all occasions, and I also long for the day when a string of St. Georges come and smite the lot of you. You see,” she continued, “I believe that I am morally and innately superior to you. I also despise dragons for their lust for gold and jewels, especially since they do not create these possessions themselves, but steal them. What do you think of that?”
The dragon thought about this. “I acknowledge your opinions, and choose to tolerate them.”
“What if I act on them? What if I believe I am morally bound to kill any dragon I see?”
“That isn’t very tolerant of you,” Tolerance scolded.
“Yes, but tolerance isn’t a part of my belief system, but killing dragons is. What are going to do about that?”
“Well, I can’t tolerate that.”
“Isn’t that intolerant of you?”
“But it was intolerant of you not to tolerate me in the first place, so the greater intolerance yours… perhaps?” Tolerance considered this.
Jaine continued her argument. “How would this putting down of intolerance occur? By a higher authority? Are they also the ones deciding what is tolerable and what isn’t? I think your measure of tolerability is insufficient, by the way. Some think it is acceptable to injure persons. Others think just hurting another’s feelings is unacceptable. By whose standards are you going to judge the world?”
“The good ones,” Tolerance answered confidently.
“And which are those? The ones that align with…?”
“Tolerance.”
“…Ah,” said Jaine.
The two sat in silence.
“Tolerance?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe we can ignore for the moment the vital issue of whose morality decides the level of acceptable intolerability. How are you going to moderate intolerance?”
“Hmmm…” Tolerance grumbled. “Well, first, I shall make the intolerant very unpopular.”
“An obvious move. What if they don’t care about popularity?”
“Then I would make laws about the intolerant, not letting them do or say intolerant things.”
“And if they do and say them anyway?”
“Then I shall fine them and take their gold for their intolerance.”
“Oh, but people are so stubbornly intolerant!” Jaine insisted. “What if they decide their opinions are more
important than their gold?”
“More important than…! Well, then I shall lock them away in a dungeon, like this.”
“Send them to the dungeon until they become more tolerant or die? That sounds counterproductive. Sending people to
jail for being intolerant may only increase the indignation against those whom they were not tolerating.”
“Quite true,” the dragon agreed. “That is very bad for me. Intolerant people give me such indigestion – they are too
tough and stringy. I much prefer the tolerant. They usually have an extra bit of fat on them. They are delicious
when seared.”
Silence filled the dungeon. The silence was shortly replaced by Tolerance’s flames, which blew out of his nostrils
and cackled as it consumed spiderwebs and dust around the stair landing. He started the flame where it did not touch
her, but it was near enough she felt shocked by the heat. She jumped back from the stair landing and stumbled into
the dungeon. The light hurt Lady Jaine’s eyes, though in the moment before her vision went white, she saw that just
beyond the landing where her sight was previously limited were piles of bones of those whom the dragon had
previously tolerated.
Jaine tripped over bones and fell against a door she had not seen.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
The Adventures of Lady Jaine, Part 2
Note to readers - if you see any mistakes (spelling, grammar, logic, or otherwise) in this prose, please let me know. Unlike Lady Jaine, I am fallible.
****************************************
Lady Jaine never before had time to explore the university, but with 6.5 hours left for her leisure, she determined to tour. Architects built the university in the day when Great King Logic reigned, but before his marriage to Queen Aesthetics. Had she aided in the design, there might have been winding gardens and windows full of stained glass, but as it was, the university was built in practicality. Most professors did not regret the lack of “frippery” in the university’s design, thinking bleakness might inspire students to graduate.
Worldly and Ignorance led her through a series of corridors. They whispered and chuckled for a bit, then paused by a window.
“Just wait here a minute,” instructed Worldly. The students disappeared down the hall. Eventually they retrieved her, and she noticed as they glanced and smiled at one another.
Ignorance knocked on a door at the end of a corridor. A deep “Come in,” replied through the door, and Worldly put his arm around Lady Jaine’s waist, appearing to escort her in just far enough that he could shove her into the room and slam the door behind her. Lady Jaine twirled to reopen the door, but the boys held it. She heard their muffled gaffing.
“My Lady,” said a voice behind her. Lady Jaine spun again and faced professor Bedlam. While the boys had taken her to the right man, she found herself not in his office, but his bedchamber. The professor’s dark hood was cast back from his head, revealing white, smiling teeth, a set of blue eyes, and scalp full of curly brown hair. He was as handsome as the hare, who raises his noble head to survey his path and options, questing to fulfill his instincts.
“Good sir,” she faced him in an authoritarian air, “I have come to discuss with you your statements on equality based on promotion of the self.” Bedlam approached her slowly, so Lady Jaine accelerated her words. “Individualism has many benefits when considered to temper the whole, but you insinuate a fantasy individualism that behaves in unsynchronized, inexplicable generosity towards others. It seems your individualism is more of a padded isolationism that ignores the existence of others rather than acknowledging differences in –”
“My good lady,” Bedlam interrupted, taking her hand. “I’m afraid we have not met. I am professor Bedlam, and you, are gorgeous.”
Lady Jaine blinked. “I am the Lady Jaine. As I was saying –”
“Do you always carry a dictionary with you?”
“Why, yes… ‘tis my weapon of choice, usually.”
“That is sad, since it is so pitifully out of order.”
“…It is?”
“Yes. If it were properly arranged, the U and I would be together.” He smiled dazzlingly at her.
Lady Jaine’s forehead wrinkled, and she held her dictionary closer. “Only if you wish to deny centuries of
traditional arrangement. As it is, I have a great appreciation for words, even spellings, though they are vexing, for deep understanding of words facilitates learning. I knew one man, even, who believed that one could not study philosophy or theology without including philology, and I agree entirely. One cannot explore the revelations of God nor the learnings of man without a well developed medium of communication.”
Professor Bedlam smiled at her again. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you – I keep getting lost in your eyes. Would you like to sit down?” There were no chairs in the professor’s room, just a bed, a small table, and a wardrobe. She would not sit on his bed.
Lady Jaine snapped. “Professor Bedlam, I came to discuss your expressions of isolationist worldview, as you told your students outside earlier.”
Bedlam sighed and sat on his bed. “Well,” he adopted a placating face, “it is viewed by many philosophers, including myself, that many of the problems in this world are caused by irrational devotion to personal values, to the extent that one person, country, or power, tries to force its opinions on others. This causes fights, as it might have outside, but on a larger scales, causes war and death. Does that make sense?”
“No. You’ve explained a disconnected problem and conclusion. How will focusing on oneself prevent wars?”
“If each man concentrates on living as he sees right, and he resolves to live at peace with his neighbor by not imposing what is right for himself on his neighbor, then the world can avoid useless contention.”
“But humans cannot avoid imposition. If there is a limited supply of something, and I take something that you want, then you would consider that imposition. Or if I believed that all blue eyed-persons are evil, that might offend you, as a blue eyed person. Even if I didn’t try to spread my blue-eyed loathing, my hatred offends your humanity.”
“Which is why you should be more tolerant. That is the key to this line of thinking – the only way this would work is if everyone either became tolerant of each other, or laws enforced toleration.”
This frustrated Lady Jaine. “But then according to your views, why shouldn’t laws be tolerant? What if a criminal sees that it is in his best interest to steal your purse. Why should the law impose its view of right on someone?”
“Because there have to be some standards. Not everyone will comply with the rule of tolerance, so the law removes
those who refuse to be tolerant.”
“Who decides what the laws are?”
“The people, each culture,” said Professor Bedlam, proudly. “Cultures should implement rules for themselves, but not other cultures. Each culture is its own king, creating rules for itself, allowing its inhabitants to live in homogenous peacefulness, but not extending its opinions to other cultures. I can't judge someone else, or judge one time or culture against another. Do you understand it now? If you got closer I’m sure I could teach you much more…”
“What about murder, or genocide?” Jaine edged away from him. “If one culture is purposely killing part of its population, shouldn’t another culture step in and protect the population despite cultural authority? What if our King decided to commit genocide on all university professors?”
“That would be wrong.”
“But if something is wrong, it appeals to a higher authority than yourself, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to make any universal statements of right and wrong. You could say ‘I enjoy not being killed,’ and nothing else.”
Bedlam pursed his lips and looked concerned. “You do not understand the concept I’m trying to convey.”
“You’re not conveying it clearly. This isn’t a personal insult, since your topic seems to lack the possibility of clarity.”
“If you wanted my personal tutelage so that we could explore these concepts together, I would happily offer myself.” Bedlam caught her hand and pulled her toward him, but Lady Jaine snatched it away. She marched the two steps it took to get back to the door, and finding it no longer barred, stepped halfway into the hall before turning back to the professor.
“If there is no higher authority, that means an individual could do anything he wished as long as he got the culture to agree with it as normality. That includes murdering babies, drinking blood, and wandering about unclothed, as some cultures practice. I’m not saying our culture will shift rapidly to such degradation, but it could if we don’t affix our moral values to something higher than majority opinion. Humans are capable of inexplicable evil, and it would take more faith than I have to expect an inward-seeking population to find such good overflowing out of their feelings that the good of the society increases and peace and happiness reign.”
“I don’t think it a bad thing if the population of, say, this chamber, found clothing more inhibiting than not,” suggested the professor.
Lady Jaine slammed the door.
****************************************
Lady Jaine never before had time to explore the university, but with 6.5 hours left for her leisure, she determined to tour. Architects built the university in the day when Great King Logic reigned, but before his marriage to Queen Aesthetics. Had she aided in the design, there might have been winding gardens and windows full of stained glass, but as it was, the university was built in practicality. Most professors did not regret the lack of “frippery” in the university’s design, thinking bleakness might inspire students to graduate.
Worldly and Ignorance led her through a series of corridors. They whispered and chuckled for a bit, then paused by a window.
“Just wait here a minute,” instructed Worldly. The students disappeared down the hall. Eventually they retrieved her, and she noticed as they glanced and smiled at one another.
Ignorance knocked on a door at the end of a corridor. A deep “Come in,” replied through the door, and Worldly put his arm around Lady Jaine’s waist, appearing to escort her in just far enough that he could shove her into the room and slam the door behind her. Lady Jaine twirled to reopen the door, but the boys held it. She heard their muffled gaffing.
“My Lady,” said a voice behind her. Lady Jaine spun again and faced professor Bedlam. While the boys had taken her to the right man, she found herself not in his office, but his bedchamber. The professor’s dark hood was cast back from his head, revealing white, smiling teeth, a set of blue eyes, and scalp full of curly brown hair. He was as handsome as the hare, who raises his noble head to survey his path and options, questing to fulfill his instincts.
“Good sir,” she faced him in an authoritarian air, “I have come to discuss with you your statements on equality based on promotion of the self.” Bedlam approached her slowly, so Lady Jaine accelerated her words. “Individualism has many benefits when considered to temper the whole, but you insinuate a fantasy individualism that behaves in unsynchronized, inexplicable generosity towards others. It seems your individualism is more of a padded isolationism that ignores the existence of others rather than acknowledging differences in –”
“My good lady,” Bedlam interrupted, taking her hand. “I’m afraid we have not met. I am professor Bedlam, and you, are gorgeous.”
Lady Jaine blinked. “I am the Lady Jaine. As I was saying –”
“Do you always carry a dictionary with you?”
“Why, yes… ‘tis my weapon of choice, usually.”
“That is sad, since it is so pitifully out of order.”
“…It is?”
“Yes. If it were properly arranged, the U and I would be together.” He smiled dazzlingly at her.
Lady Jaine’s forehead wrinkled, and she held her dictionary closer. “Only if you wish to deny centuries of
traditional arrangement. As it is, I have a great appreciation for words, even spellings, though they are vexing, for deep understanding of words facilitates learning. I knew one man, even, who believed that one could not study philosophy or theology without including philology, and I agree entirely. One cannot explore the revelations of God nor the learnings of man without a well developed medium of communication.”
Professor Bedlam smiled at her again. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you – I keep getting lost in your eyes. Would you like to sit down?” There were no chairs in the professor’s room, just a bed, a small table, and a wardrobe. She would not sit on his bed.
Lady Jaine snapped. “Professor Bedlam, I came to discuss your expressions of isolationist worldview, as you told your students outside earlier.”
Bedlam sighed and sat on his bed. “Well,” he adopted a placating face, “it is viewed by many philosophers, including myself, that many of the problems in this world are caused by irrational devotion to personal values, to the extent that one person, country, or power, tries to force its opinions on others. This causes fights, as it might have outside, but on a larger scales, causes war and death. Does that make sense?”
“No. You’ve explained a disconnected problem and conclusion. How will focusing on oneself prevent wars?”
“If each man concentrates on living as he sees right, and he resolves to live at peace with his neighbor by not imposing what is right for himself on his neighbor, then the world can avoid useless contention.”
“But humans cannot avoid imposition. If there is a limited supply of something, and I take something that you want, then you would consider that imposition. Or if I believed that all blue eyed-persons are evil, that might offend you, as a blue eyed person. Even if I didn’t try to spread my blue-eyed loathing, my hatred offends your humanity.”
“Which is why you should be more tolerant. That is the key to this line of thinking – the only way this would work is if everyone either became tolerant of each other, or laws enforced toleration.”
This frustrated Lady Jaine. “But then according to your views, why shouldn’t laws be tolerant? What if a criminal sees that it is in his best interest to steal your purse. Why should the law impose its view of right on someone?”
“Because there have to be some standards. Not everyone will comply with the rule of tolerance, so the law removes
those who refuse to be tolerant.”
“Who decides what the laws are?”
“The people, each culture,” said Professor Bedlam, proudly. “Cultures should implement rules for themselves, but not other cultures. Each culture is its own king, creating rules for itself, allowing its inhabitants to live in homogenous peacefulness, but not extending its opinions to other cultures. I can't judge someone else, or judge one time or culture against another. Do you understand it now? If you got closer I’m sure I could teach you much more…”
“What about murder, or genocide?” Jaine edged away from him. “If one culture is purposely killing part of its population, shouldn’t another culture step in and protect the population despite cultural authority? What if our King decided to commit genocide on all university professors?”
“That would be wrong.”
“But if something is wrong, it appeals to a higher authority than yourself, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to make any universal statements of right and wrong. You could say ‘I enjoy not being killed,’ and nothing else.”
Bedlam pursed his lips and looked concerned. “You do not understand the concept I’m trying to convey.”
“You’re not conveying it clearly. This isn’t a personal insult, since your topic seems to lack the possibility of clarity.”
“If you wanted my personal tutelage so that we could explore these concepts together, I would happily offer myself.” Bedlam caught her hand and pulled her toward him, but Lady Jaine snatched it away. She marched the two steps it took to get back to the door, and finding it no longer barred, stepped halfway into the hall before turning back to the professor.
“If there is no higher authority, that means an individual could do anything he wished as long as he got the culture to agree with it as normality. That includes murdering babies, drinking blood, and wandering about unclothed, as some cultures practice. I’m not saying our culture will shift rapidly to such degradation, but it could if we don’t affix our moral values to something higher than majority opinion. Humans are capable of inexplicable evil, and it would take more faith than I have to expect an inward-seeking population to find such good overflowing out of their feelings that the good of the society increases and peace and happiness reign.”
“I don’t think it a bad thing if the population of, say, this chamber, found clothing more inhibiting than not,” suggested the professor.
Lady Jaine slammed the door.
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