water? What would be the point of so much wasted space? I’d never have thought people would buy that lie, had I not studied Hushlander cultures.”
“People go along with what they’re told,” Bastille said. “Even intelligent people believe what they read and hear, assuming they’re given no reason to question.”
I shook my head. “A hidden gas station I can believe, but this ? This isn’t some little cover-up or misdirection. There are three new continents on that map!”
“Not new,” Sing said. “The cultures of the Free Kingdoms are quite well established. Indeed, they’re far more advanced that Hushlander cultures.”
Bastille nodded. “The Librarians conquered the backward sections of the world first. They’re easier to control.”
“But…” I said. “What about Columbus? What about history?”
“Lies,” Sing said quietly. “Fabrications, many of them – the rest are distortions. I mean, haven’t you always wondered why your people supposedly developed guns after more technology-advanced weapons, like swords?”
“No! Swords aren’t more advanced than guns!”
Sing and Bastille shared a glance.
“That’s what they want you to believe, Alcatraz,” Sing said. “That way, the Librarians can keep the powerful technology for themselves. Don’t you think it’s strange that nobody in your culture carries swords anymore?”
“NO!” I said, holding up my hands. “Sing, most people don’t need to carry swords – or even guns!”
“You’ve been beaten down,” Bastille said quietly. “You’re docile. Controlled.”
“We’re happy!” I said.
“Yes,” Sing said. “You’re quiet, happy, and completely ignorant – just like you’re supposed to be. Don’t you have a phrase ‘Ignorance is bliss’?”
“The Librarians came up with that one,” Bastille said.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “This is too much. I was willing to overlook the self-driving cars. The magic glasses… well, they could be some kind of trick. Sneaking into a library, that sounded like fun. But this… this is ridiculous. I can’t accept it.”
And likely, you Hushlanders are thinking the very same thing. You are saying to yourself, “The story just lost me. It degenerated into pure silliness. And since only silly people enjoy silliness, I’m going to go read a book about a boy whose dog gets killed by his mother. Twice.”
Before you embark upon your voyage into caninicide, I’d like to offer a single argument for your consideration: Plato.
Plato was a funny little Greek man who lived a long time ago. He is probably best known for two things: First, for writing stories about his friends, and second for philosophically proving that somewhere in the eternities there exists a perfect slice of cheesecake. (Read the Parmenides – it’s in there.) At this moment, however, the reader should be less interested in cheesecake and more interested in caves.
One cave, to be specific. Plato tells a story about a group of prisoners who lived in a very special cave. The prisoners were tied up – heads held so they could only face one direction – and all they could see was the wall in front of them. A fire behind them threw shadows up on this wall and these shadows were the only things the prisoners ever knew. To them, the shadows were their world. As far as they knew, there was nothing else.
However, one of these prisoners was eventually released and saw that the world was much more than just shadows. At first, he found this new world very, very strange. Once he learned of it, however, he returned and tried to tell his friends about it. They, however, didn’t trust him – and didn’t want to listen to him. They didn’t want to believe in this new world, because it didn’t make sense to them.
You Hushlanders are like these people. You have, through no fault of your own, lived your entire life believing in the shadows the Librarians have shown you. The things I reveal in this narrative
“People go along with what they’re told,” Bastille said. “Even intelligent people believe what they read and hear, assuming they’re given no reason to question.”
I shook my head. “A hidden gas station I can believe, but this ? This isn’t some little cover-up or misdirection. There are three new continents on that map!”
“Not new,” Sing said. “The cultures of the Free Kingdoms are quite well established. Indeed, they’re far more advanced that Hushlander cultures.”
Bastille nodded. “The Librarians conquered the backward sections of the world first. They’re easier to control.”
“But…” I said. “What about Columbus? What about history?”
“Lies,” Sing said quietly. “Fabrications, many of them – the rest are distortions. I mean, haven’t you always wondered why your people supposedly developed guns after more technology-advanced weapons, like swords?”
“No! Swords aren’t more advanced than guns!”
Sing and Bastille shared a glance.
“That’s what they want you to believe, Alcatraz,” Sing said. “That way, the Librarians can keep the powerful technology for themselves. Don’t you think it’s strange that nobody in your culture carries swords anymore?”
“NO!” I said, holding up my hands. “Sing, most people don’t need to carry swords – or even guns!”
“You’ve been beaten down,” Bastille said quietly. “You’re docile. Controlled.”
“We’re happy!” I said.
“Yes,” Sing said. “You’re quiet, happy, and completely ignorant – just like you’re supposed to be. Don’t you have a phrase ‘Ignorance is bliss’?”
“The Librarians came up with that one,” Bastille said.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “This is too much. I was willing to overlook the self-driving cars. The magic glasses… well, they could be some kind of trick. Sneaking into a library, that sounded like fun. But this… this is ridiculous. I can’t accept it.”
And likely, you Hushlanders are thinking the very same thing. You are saying to yourself, “The story just lost me. It degenerated into pure silliness. And since only silly people enjoy silliness, I’m going to go read a book about a boy whose dog gets killed by his mother. Twice.”
Before you embark upon your voyage into caninicide, I’d like to offer a single argument for your consideration: Plato.
Plato was a funny little Greek man who lived a long time ago. He is probably best known for two things: First, for writing stories about his friends, and second for philosophically proving that somewhere in the eternities there exists a perfect slice of cheesecake. (Read the Parmenides – it’s in there.) At this moment, however, the reader should be less interested in cheesecake and more interested in caves.
One cave, to be specific. Plato tells a story about a group of prisoners who lived in a very special cave. The prisoners were tied up – heads held so they could only face one direction – and all they could see was the wall in front of them. A fire behind them threw shadows up on this wall and these shadows were the only things the prisoners ever knew. To them, the shadows were their world. As far as they knew, there was nothing else.
However, one of these prisoners was eventually released and saw that the world was much more than just shadows. At first, he found this new world very, very strange. Once he learned of it, however, he returned and tried to tell his friends about it. They, however, didn’t trust him – and didn’t want to listen to him. They didn’t want to believe in this new world, because it didn’t make sense to them.
You Hushlanders are like these people. You have, through no fault of your own, lived your entire life believing in the shadows the Librarians have shown you. The things I reveal in this narrative
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