Alvin_255
JF-Expert Member
- Oct 26, 2015
- 246
- 503
Let me tell you a story.
There was once a very wise old king. He ruled a mighty city set in a fertile valley surrounded by beautiful mountains. Visitors to the kingdom marveled at the order and efficiency of the society, for no person in the kingdom ever broke the law, nor wasted, nor harbored any hate, but busied themselves at their crafts and with the raising of their families.
The people loved their king, and the king spent his entire life attending to their needs in the court, the treasury, and the market. So wise was he, that he could allot to each citizen their just provision, could divine the fairest tax for each of them, and could tell all the merchants of the city the most equitable price they might sell their goods at. So wise was he, that at birth he could measure the potential skills of each child, the craft at which they would be best at, and what education would best prepare them.
So wise was he, even, that he could see who in the kingdom was most suited to be wed to who, how old they ought to be to best be ready for each other, and even how many children they should have, and when, in order to have the best family possible for them. The wise old king was everything to all, law-giver, judge, educator, and matchmaker, and to all he ruled according to their needs and abilities.
All the people of this kingdom lived their lives in complete happiness, and no evil did they harbor. But each night the wise old king wept for his people. He wept until he collapsed of exhaustion. He wept because he knew one day he would die.
He knew that after he died, someday a merchant would make a mistake in calculating the price of bread, and a child would go hungry, he knew that two adolescents would commit to be unwisely wed in young love, but would one day be poisoned with hate toward each other, he knew that the people would be unsure of who to elect as their next king, and that they would argue and bring unhappiness into their lives, and he knew that one day, a child would be given an education ill-suited to their needs and abilities, and would be unable to join society productively.
And so the good king wept out of love for his people. He knew that one day his people would feel need, and he knew that one day, without his wisdom, justice, and mercy, the people would become wicked and perish.
A year before he died, the king wrote up a great book. A most splendid book it was, for in it he had written down everything that his people must do once he had passed. In this book he had poured the entirety of his wisdom. So wise was he that with the utmost effort he had predicted everything that would happen in his kingdom, and had written down all that his people should do.
And the book was marvelous to behold. Then, one rainy day in the beginning of winter, while a cruel old wind blew over the mountains, the good king died. His people wept for him, for they had loved their king. They wept for three days for their king.
The people built a beautiful monument for their king, and in that monument they housed the king’s book. And they lived by the great book, and there was not a hungry child in the kingdom, nor a broken family, and the people had no need to find a king from among themselves. But one wicked day, while the same cruel old wind was blowing over the mountains, a butterfly from another valley flew into the kingdom. The wind from this little butterfly the king had not predicted.
Slowly, ever slowly, the changes to the kingdom wrought by the slight wind from the butterfly began to multiply, and there where children in the streets with only hunger in their stomachs, and the tax-collectors where unable to decide on the best tax, so many in the kingdom became poor, a few became richer than they deserved, and the kingdom had not enough gold to govern properly.
The people disagreed as to what had gone wrong, and how to fix everything. Hate welled up in the families, the people who had never known evil, nor did any unkind thing to each other, now cheated each other, envied each other, and hated more than they loved. Some years later, barbarians from the north came into the valley and destroyed everything, and not one of the good old king’s people survived, though he had been so wise, loved them so much, and wept for them each night.
There was once a very wise old king. He ruled a mighty city set in a fertile valley surrounded by beautiful mountains. Visitors to the kingdom marveled at the order and efficiency of the society, for no person in the kingdom ever broke the law, nor wasted, nor harbored any hate, but busied themselves at their crafts and with the raising of their families.
The people loved their king, and the king spent his entire life attending to their needs in the court, the treasury, and the market. So wise was he, that he could allot to each citizen their just provision, could divine the fairest tax for each of them, and could tell all the merchants of the city the most equitable price they might sell their goods at. So wise was he, that at birth he could measure the potential skills of each child, the craft at which they would be best at, and what education would best prepare them.
So wise was he, even, that he could see who in the kingdom was most suited to be wed to who, how old they ought to be to best be ready for each other, and even how many children they should have, and when, in order to have the best family possible for them. The wise old king was everything to all, law-giver, judge, educator, and matchmaker, and to all he ruled according to their needs and abilities.
All the people of this kingdom lived their lives in complete happiness, and no evil did they harbor. But each night the wise old king wept for his people. He wept until he collapsed of exhaustion. He wept because he knew one day he would die.
He knew that after he died, someday a merchant would make a mistake in calculating the price of bread, and a child would go hungry, he knew that two adolescents would commit to be unwisely wed in young love, but would one day be poisoned with hate toward each other, he knew that the people would be unsure of who to elect as their next king, and that they would argue and bring unhappiness into their lives, and he knew that one day, a child would be given an education ill-suited to their needs and abilities, and would be unable to join society productively.
And so the good king wept out of love for his people. He knew that one day his people would feel need, and he knew that one day, without his wisdom, justice, and mercy, the people would become wicked and perish.
A year before he died, the king wrote up a great book. A most splendid book it was, for in it he had written down everything that his people must do once he had passed. In this book he had poured the entirety of his wisdom. So wise was he that with the utmost effort he had predicted everything that would happen in his kingdom, and had written down all that his people should do.
And the book was marvelous to behold. Then, one rainy day in the beginning of winter, while a cruel old wind blew over the mountains, the good king died. His people wept for him, for they had loved their king. They wept for three days for their king.
The people built a beautiful monument for their king, and in that monument they housed the king’s book. And they lived by the great book, and there was not a hungry child in the kingdom, nor a broken family, and the people had no need to find a king from among themselves. But one wicked day, while the same cruel old wind was blowing over the mountains, a butterfly from another valley flew into the kingdom. The wind from this little butterfly the king had not predicted.
Slowly, ever slowly, the changes to the kingdom wrought by the slight wind from the butterfly began to multiply, and there where children in the streets with only hunger in their stomachs, and the tax-collectors where unable to decide on the best tax, so many in the kingdom became poor, a few became richer than they deserved, and the kingdom had not enough gold to govern properly.
The people disagreed as to what had gone wrong, and how to fix everything. Hate welled up in the families, the people who had never known evil, nor did any unkind thing to each other, now cheated each other, envied each other, and hated more than they loved. Some years later, barbarians from the north came into the valley and destroyed everything, and not one of the good old king’s people survived, though he had been so wise, loved them so much, and wept for them each night.
