1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.6 An Assumed Role
1.2.6.23 Kafana's answer
After leaving Wellington’s sim, she sat down on the padded stone slab of her bier and laid her head back upon the flower strewn pillow.
Nadine: “Bedroom, please dress me in the ‘Snow White’ getup Heather designed.”
What had Snow White wanted from life? Not much, as far as she could recall. She’d been pretty passive, just trying to live her life; all the big changes had been driven by the actions of others - the queen trying to kill her or the others trying to save her. About the only things she’d done of her own initiative had been to tidy a room and sing to some birds.
Was she any different, just reacting to circumstances with no long term ambitions of her own? Was that why she’d not been able to think of a goal earlier?
The mythoi couldn’t be her lifetime goal. The thought of them hadn’t even existed a week ago. At best they were a means to an end, a milestone on a step towards a vision. But what was that vision? If she looked at society, today in 2045, and could only change one thing, what was most important to her personally? What did she want society to look like?
She tried to think back to the last time she could remember getting fired up about something positive, not just angry against something. Hmm. She’d been working together closely with Heather, playing her violin, trying to teach Heather’s bots how to dance the Căluşari. The exultant feeling she’d had, that she was doing something she was really expert at, and using it to accomplish something worthwhile - she remembered the burning desire she’d felt to share that feeling, to change the whole world if needs be, in order that everyone had an opportunity to feel the same.
No, not feel the same. Just experiencing it second hand via a recording wouldn’t give the same boost to how one assessed one’s own self-worth. Doing the same. She wanted everyone to have an opportunity to use whatever was inside them, improve whatever was inside them, until they could accomplish something they felt was worthwhile - worthy of respect.
If she could only change one thing in society, she wanted to help people find a sense of purpose; something to give them back the dignity and self-respect she saw being slowly drained away. She remembered Jasic talking about feeling like an organ grinder’s monkey, and so many other stories she’d heard over the years. People were, more and more, being put in the position of acting like pets or things - beings without agency, obedient consumers there just to be manipulated by the true players, fobbed off with easy lies and creature comforts.
She knew there were more things that needed doing but, for herself, if she just achieved that one goal - defending people’s humanity, so they could be all they wanted to be - she’d die with a contented smile on her face.
Time for Snow White to stop lying around passively; get up and go be Queen, girl - your people need you!
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She spent the rest of the flight trying to put her vision into words, then working on doing the same for the visions the other Wombles had shared with her. By the time the phoenix finally arrived back at the Roost above the village, she felt more than ready for a change of pace.
Heather was soundly asleep in her cargo pod, so Nadine brought up the interface Heather had tutored her on, and managed to get a gorilla bot to gently carry the whole pod inside the barn. Then she wrapped Heather in a warm blanket, thanked the phoenix for the flight, and headed back down the hill towards her kafana, glad to be out of the nun’s habit and back in her own clothing. She took the bee drone she’d received at the after-party as her memento, and used the hand gestures Heather had shown her to make it keep station ahead of her, lighting the way.
Before she reached the village, however, she came across a worried looking Jasic, who was leaning against a sturdy fence post, watching his goats in their field.
Nadine: “Peace be upon you, Jasic. How’s things in town?”
Jasic: “Upon you be peace, Miss Sabanagic. Not so good, truth to tell.”
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Nadine: “Want to talk about it, or have you already argued it out with Cosic as usual?”
She’d never met a pair of friends like Jasic and Cosic. They invariably sought each other’s company, yet they could never agree on anything and were always betting against each other. Their arguments were spirited, but never mean spirited.
Jasic: “You know it’s Isra Miraj on Tuesday?”
Nadine: “Sure. That’s when the Archangel Jibrael took the prophet on a miraculous journey, on the back of a winged steed named ‘lightning’. They flew all the way from Mecca to Jerusalem then ascended through seven heavens made of water, pearls, iron, brass, silver, gold and finally divine light where he meets Allah, before being taken back to Mecca; all in a single night.”
Jasic: “And we normally hold a big celebration, with lots of candles and social events. It’s a time to praise benefactors and talk of educating others; a time of illumination, revelation and contemplation. Very peaceful.”
Nadine cocked her head, waiting for Jasic to continue.
Jasic: “Well the new one, Imam Begg, he got talking about piety and sins, and getting yourself pure, ready for Isra Miraj, and how some people were in need of a bit of aid when it came to sticking to the halal rather than the haram. Then he produced this new type of tiara, had a whole crate of them. Said they came straight from the Hashimic Caliphate, and had been approved of as halal, unlike other sorts. He didn’t come out straight and say all others were haram, but he strongly implied it and said everyone who used tiaras ought to take one of these pure ones and put it on straight away to register it.”
Jasic: “Bahrudin, he didn’t like the sound of that, and demurred on behalf of the villagers standing with him, saying we were simple folks and didn’t abide by going around wearing techie-nology on their heads. Sounded as yokel as a pig he did, could scarce keep from laughing, but the Imam bought it and gave up on us.”
Nadine: “That is worrying.”
Jasic: “That’s not the bad bit. You see, no sooner had I muttered to Cosic that those tiaras were obviously a bad idea than the poor fool decided that a bit of aid in remembering when to pray was just what he needed, and up shot his hand to join the group volunteering to take one, as if he couldn’t just install an app onto his phone instead.”
Jasic: “They spent an hour, they did, off in a private room getting calibrated and then came out and did a prayer in thanks; all of them together, in unison. It was spooky. You looked at their faces and they all, at the same moment, got this strange grin and wide eyes, like they were experiencing something profound, or very pleasurable, or both. Several of them asked to pray again immediately; just so the Imam could check they got the movements perfect, or so they claimed.”
Jasic: “Cosic spent the whole minibus ride back telling us all how wonderful it is now he has a head-up view letting him see what’s permitted and what’s forbidden, how safe it feels. I bet him he wouldn’t last a week with that thing on, and he refused to accept the wager. Said wagering is qimar and thus forbidden. Said he’ll never bet with me again. On anything. Ever.”
Jasic: “Thing is, I know Cosic. Know him better than I know the back of my own hands. I’ve seen him do daft things before. Done a few myself to win a wager, truth be told. I know what he looks like when he’s putting on a front, or has talked himself into believing something. This was different. He was relaxed about it; confident; certain. He sounded like he was happy about the prospect of never wagering again.”
Jasic's voice quavered with the strain of suppressing the volcano of emotion threatening to erupt inside him.
Nadine: “Would you like to come back for coffee, or shall I leave you here?”
Jasic: “Don’t you get cold. You go on. I’ll… I’ll just stay here a bit and guard my goats from that eagle.”
She nodded and left, not sure what to say and certainly not going to point out that his goats were fully grown and that by now any sensible eagle would be fast asleep. Dealing with your own emotions could be hard but, even when it left you more battered and took more courage than a boss battle against an enraged troll, the local men were terrified that if they admitted needing to 'waste' time on such a thing, it would be viewed as a sign of weakness. Men!
But the burst of irritation didn't last. How much could Jasic be blamed, when the fault also fell upon all those who'd raised him from birth to hold such a wrong-headed belief? If Jasic let her see him fall to his knees in tears, he'd drown in shame over it; and right now only two things keeping him on his feet were a rickety fence post and his pride. He was in the habit of thinking of guarding-his-livestock-from-wild-predators as a worthwhile activity, and as long as she didn't force him to think about it too much, the self-respect from it would help his pride stay strong enough. She couldn't bear the though of taking that away from him.
Could people only preserve their dignity by doing work that provided others with things or services they needed, valued or even used at all? Or were there other ways for work to be meaningful? If someone tended the graves of the long dead, or carried out scientific research on questions with no likely short term impact, was that meaningless if the worker's only audience was themselves? Or if the general population, despite not gaining entertaining report or recordings or the work, viewed some activity as being generally worthwhile, she'd no idea how to turn that into a quantified value which could be fairly compared to the amount of gratitude that more usual types of work would gain from individuals benefitting from it.
She had Minion send her queries to Wellington, as the farting, snorting and snoring sound of goats faded away behind her.