PROLOGUE: THE FOUR KINGS
Once upon a time, quadruplets inherited a throne. They were equally heirs since they had been born clinging to each other. Their father had recently died, so now they shared the same throne with four separate seats but the same cross-shaped vertical back. Each one, facing outward, rested in an open hypotenuse. If they turned to look at another, they could only see a crown.
Although they were equally wise and respected throughout the land, one was as stubborn as the next. In spite of their birth embrace, in their old age they found themselves diametrically opposed.
The king in the first position was fixed in his opinions. He prided himself on change and creating new and fresh responses. He never trusted orthodoxy. The king in the third position, with his back to the king in the first, was as fixed in his opinions but feared change and always defended orthodoxy. The king in the second position was not fixed in his opinions. He changed as casually as the breeze and was known for picking up on the last point he’d heard, often every point he’d heard, and using it in some way. To his opposite sat the king in the fourth position who also wasn’t fixed in his opinions. He was famous for choosing nothing. He was oblivious to the consequences of his actions and simply followed the momentum of his instincts no matter what the result.
A subject seeking advice, well aware of the ideological differences he faced, would ask the kings individually to address the matter. The kings, in responding, politely and patiently respected the other’s right to have his say. When the last one finished, the subject seeking advice knew to gather the four bits of information and hurry off as quickly as possible. For what followed was the most ferocious bickering and arguing among the kings about the poor advice the others had given. This would continue through the night and could often be heard echoing through the valley. All of the subjects, before going to sleep, would wish peace for the rumbling kings. But each morning the rumbling continued, if it hadn’t gone on all night. One argument carried on to the next, never resolving itself.
The subject, now in his home, having collected the four opinions, would examine them and make his own decision. This freedom made any sleepless night tolerable.
One day a loyal subject approached the kings with a problem. A woman with child had eaten another woman’s entire parsley garden. The owner of the garden, apparently a witch, had spared the expectant woman’s life under the condition that they share her child when it reached age seven. The son had recently done so. The witch’s messenger asked the kings if she should cleave the boy in two.
The king in the first position said, “Most certainly cleave him. The change will do him good.”
The king in the third position said, “Most certainly do not cleave him. If he were meant to be cloven, he would have been long ago.”
The king in the second position said, “Cleave him first then sew him back together. Or just cleave him. But don’t not cleave him because you’re afraid he won’t like being cloven or cleave him because you think he doesn’t like being uncloven. Anyway, ask the boy.”
The king in the fourth position said, “Cleaving, cleaving! That has a ring to it!” and sliced himself in half and died on the spot.
The rumbling began. This time, since the king in the fourth position could no longer defend himself, the remaining three argued for or against his position based on their previous experience. Needless to say, each manipulated the fourth king’s absence to favor his own ideology.
The subject ran off with his answers to give them to the witch so she could make her own decision.
From The Collected Writings of Paul Anderssen.
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