Humanity had come far from their feuding city states and endless power struggle. They had embraced a new age of culture and advancement, woven from the paths of countless. Or so they said. The truth was that endless struggle had merely changed to a new arena. A struggle of minds rather than bodies. A never ending ladder of accomplishment, reaching for the sky. And in their squabbling on the ladder, they forgot where the ladder was even going. All that mattered was one's place on the ladder. It is a pitiable truth, yet true all the same. I once found an interesting speech, written by the Sociologist Harvey Marks. He denounced it all as a joke, raged against it, and crumbled before it. They found his cold body the next day, a bullet hole in its head. But his words never left me. “It’s all a joke.” And it truly is. The ladder inevitably leads to stagnation. A luxury we can't afford. That’s why I need to create something new.
Havey hated conventions. They were more dick-measuring contests than actual academic discourse. But occasionally a few gems could be found.
Groaning, he hauled himself out of his old 2001 Togoda Silver, a car that had long served him well. If only it wasnt so damn low to the ground.
He nervously scanned the crowd, dull blue eyes spinning, hoping to avoid anybody he knew. Honestly, with his aversion to people, he sometimes didn't know why he had chosen to become a sociologist of all things.
Actually, I could study that. Was it Mr. Burkins? I remember reading that paper about how big of an impact a good teacher can have. Well maybe…
His thoughts alone accompanied him into the crowded convention doors.
—------------------------------------
Hours later, Harvey was feeling a little better about the whole convention thing. Obviously the dick-measuring was still in full force, but he had managed to map out the areas where the less stuffy people were.
Still, he wondered what it would be like to be heard.
For a time he was in heaven, lost in the gutted constructs of society, laid bare before him. He dived into the writings and presentations with unchecked eagerness, questions spewing from his lips.
He wasn't sure how long he was lost in the world of dismantled society when he came across a new table, bare except for a single book. For some reason it caught his attention, standing out from the more ostentatious displays.
“The Cycle of Ego and The End of Society.” a voice interrupted his musings.
Harvey jumped, and strangling the urge to run, turned to face the newcomer. It was a tired looking old man, with messy gray hair and tired azure eyes.
“Who…”
The man raised a hand,
“Not important. What do you think of the book?”
Harvey replied uncertainty, taken aback by the mans rudeness,
“Umm…I haven't read it?”
The man raised a brow,
“Then why have you been staring at it for so long?”
“Uh… I have?”
“Yes, you have, for nearly 5 minutes.”
“Oh.” was the only response Harvey managed to muster.
The man looked at him expectantly, only to sigh as Harvey said nothing.
“So? What attracted your attention?”
“Well… The display is very… barebones.” Harvey articulated, slowly trying to regain his balance.
Which was further disputed by the man's abrupt response.
“Exactly!” he practically yelled, “That's the point. It's plain. Not showy. Lacking ego.” He practically spat out the last word.
Ludon always was erratic.
“Ego,” he continued, “That will spell the doom of our society!”
He looked at Harvey fervently, as if expecting him to burst into enthusiastic agreement.
Harvey was too busy trying to center himself, trying and failing to execute the breathing exercises his therapist had given him.
The man’s passion turned into sullen anger,
“Bah!” he exclaimed, “Nobody gets it. Too wrapped up in their own egos they can't see the plain truth.”
Harvey finally managed to gather himself enough to ask a question,
“What truth?”
The old man considered him sullenly, the sighed,
“Ego is the single greatest threat to our society, and it will bring our end.”
Harvey’s instincts were screaming at him to keep the discussion going, hinting at the unique ideas that lay in the crazy old man’s brain.
Fighting though his discomfort he asked another question,
“How?”
The old man countered with another question,
“Isn't it obvious? We assume knowledge we don't have simply to appear better in the eyes of society. We assume ability we do not rightfully possess to reach beyond ourselves. And when we do so, we deny ourselves the ability to learn the knowledge, to learn those skills. And so society rests on a pillar of lies, on the backs of those unfit to carry its weight.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
His eyes drifted to his book.
“It will doom us in the,” he continued, voice dropping to a reverent whisper, gaze on the book becoming more fervent, “It will be our end.”
Then, like nothing had happened he snapped back.
“So, Boy.” he demanded, “That make sense?”
Harvey managed to weather the man wild nature easier this time and quickly responded,
“It's similar to some of the things I've been thinking about. Surprisingly so actually.”
“Really?” the old man questioned.
“Yeah, in fact if I could get your number, perhaps we could me…”
“Nope,” the man interrupted, “I’m not long for this world. But take the book. You'll probably get as much use out of it as anyone.”
“You’re not long for this word?” Harvey echoed with alarm, “What does that mean?”
The man’s temperament once again rapidly shifted, this time to a bizarrely melancholic state,
“You know, we’re born and raised into this cycle of ego. It’s engraved into our minds from the first instance we see the light of the operating room. It’s a part of us. And I'm tired of it. I’ve fought for long enough. It's time to rest.”
He looked back at Harvey and picked up his book. Then, almost reverently he pushed the book into Harvey’s arms. Meeting his eyes, Harvey saw something strange, a deep void lurking behind his wizened facade.
“There is only one way to escape.”
Then he turned and left, leaving Harvey and the book.
Under the title of bright red, a smaller black scrawl graced its cover.
“Ludon an Erduk” Harvey muttered.
—--------------------------------------------------
The next night found Harvey curled up in front of the fireplace, staring at the book. The rest of the convention had gone as expected, a blur of ideas, both new and old. But Harvey hadn’t been able to focus, finding his mind drifting to the old man every chance it got. The old man and the book he now held in his hand.
With a sigh, he opened it and began to read.
As always, the book sucked him in, transporting him into a new reality. A blank canvas of possibility, waiting for the brush of the conception. As Harvey’s eyes frantically consumed the words, colors appeared on the canvas. An endless stairway, leading to horizons unknown manifested first. Outside the invisible boundaries of the stairs, shifted a murky gray, sheltering the unwalked paths from prying eyes. On the stairs floated a strange construct. It took the form of a seemingly infinite city, contained within a finite space. A nightmare of shifting geometry and unsolved paradoxes. Any other would find themselves driven mad at the mere conception of such a construct. But to Harvey, it was familiar, a representation of society in his eyes. A representation of the subject he had dedicated his life to studying, and the construct he would never understand. The endless city was populated by little dots of color, flickers of people, ideas, and things, zooming around in accordance with the natural disorder of society. As Harvey read further, a new construct slowly appeared, formed from the collective will of the denizens of the city and the conceptions of the mighty.
It took the form of a spinning ring, a black halo of sorts, lifting the city to the unseen end with unmatched zeal. The crowds cheered as the city began to move up the stairs faster, a marginal increase in the race to infinity. As their support for the ring ballooned, more threw themselves into it, becoming one with the cycle. Their colors bleed off into the surroundings as they assumed the black of the cycle.
Within the ring, conceptions of power resided, ballooning themselves up with pride at their supposed accomplishments, fed by the cheering crowds below.
The ring fed into itself, growing larger and faster as the illusion of growth consumed it.
Yet even as its growth continued, subsuming more and more into it, it began to slow down, its newfound power loose and unfocused.
Still, the people cheered and hurled themselves into it.
Those within inflated themselves more and more, far beyond what could be sustained.
Eventually, the city ground to a halt, no longer concerned with matters of ascension, but rather matters of size. Those in the ring relentlessly expanded themselves, seeking to become the biggest, and those on the ground eagerly dived into the cycle, seeking to become big themselves.
Harvey watched in horror as the cycle consumed society, fashioning itself into the end goal of existence. Watched as the vibrant colors within bled away, consumed by the never ending black of the cycle. Watched as the very purpose of life itself was replaced by this plague.
Harvey ascended into reality, opening his eyes to the sound of the book snapping shut in his hands.
He shivered.
—--------------------------
For nearly an hour he didn't move from his chair, shaken by what he had seen. When he finally got up, it was merely to pace around the room as his mind relentlessly analyzed what he had seen. It was fascinating, how the cycle inflated itself to such unsustainable proportions, the draw it possessed.
In all honesty, society is a fragile construct. There are countless concepts capable of bringing about its ruin.
I should know. I’ve seen it happen. Over and over and over again.
Still, Harvey found this doomsday scenario of all of them something special. Something personal. After all, it wasn't just society caught in its chains.
The others may bring about the destruction of society, but the cycle of ego brought a much more subtle death. Ever since Jazarin had walked the earth, society's purpose had been progress. Striving for that unreachable sky, where all are equal and all are free. This was the slow creeping death of those ideals to inequality and chains of ego. A death so subtle it didn't even provide the chance to reform society in something better, as often happened in the wake of tyrants. A stagnation of sorts. A subversion. A chaining.
It went against everything Harvey stood for.
He still remembered the insults and blows of his youth. Shredding his body and confidence both. Remembered being forced to serve time and time again. Remembered chasing the ripped shreds of his notes as they twirled in the wind. All because of his perceived lowness. All because he had the courage to admit what he didn’t know.
His childhood may have given him drive, but he would wish it upon nobody. He would recreate without such a hierarchy.
He would break the cycle of ego, and end the practice of accomplishments for the sake of accomplishments.
Yet as he looked back on his life, a question came to him.
What had that drive been for? Was it simply a drive to avoid being perceived as lesser?
He tried to remember what he originally studied sociology for. Not why he had begun to study it, but for what. To his horror, he couldn't remember. He remembered his doctorate thesis, a paper on the wealth disparity between races but not why he had chosen that thesis. He couldn't even remember why he had gotten a doctorate in the first place.
Was it merely an attempt to defend himself from the viciousness of the cycle? To be high enough to avoid the insults? To have an armor of accomplishment to defend against the accomplishments of others?
Harvey shivered once more.
Had the course of his life been dictated by the cycle?
He had thought himself separate from all the ego and posturing, but now he wasn't so sure.
Why had he gotten his doctorate?
Harvey moved with newfound urgency, perhaps this wasn't merely a mission to free society, but also himself.
Alas, freedom is beyond the purview of mortals.
Moving with the fervor of a man on a mission, Harvey popped open his laptop and searched for Ludon an Erduk. He needed help, clarity on what he faced.
His plans crumbled on the first search result.
“Acclaimed sociologist Ludon an Erduk commits suicide at 87.”
Harvey just stared at the title, remembering Ludon’s last words to him.
“There is only one way to escape.”
Harvey wondered if there was anything he could have done to save the man. To pull him from the cycle, shelter him from reality. But no. The man had known better than anybody the nature of the cycle. If even he couldn't find a way out, then perhaps they were all doomed.
Worrying consumed his pacing, giving it a panicked energy.
“No!” He said, “There must be a way out. Yes, there is a way out. And I will find it.”
Only he knew if he believed it.