The Prince with the Large Hands, the Magic Safety Beans, and the Very Bad List of No-No Places: a Fairy Tale About Security
Once Upon a Time, in a far-off kingdom, there lived a noble Prince, who had very large hands. I mean the biggest. They were so large, you wouldn’t believe it.
The Prince was in the middle of a very important Atrocity Blitzkrieg against his many enemies, which included almost everybody, when it occurred to him that there were so many Very Bad People from so many Very Bad Places who wanted to come into his Kingdom and hurt his subjects. He didn’t know how he knew this, or why, but because it seemed so undeniably truthy to him, he reckoned it must be so. Now the Prince was determined that if anyone were going to hurt his subjects, it should be him, so he decided to do something about it. For you see, it was always important for the Prince to be seen doing something about something.
So it was that one fine morning, the Prince stood on the royal balcony before a very large crowd of his adoring subjects (the largest ever! don’t believe the fake town criers who said otherwise!), proclaimed seven lands Outside as the Very Bad List of No-No Places, and declared that henceforth, no one from such a land should ever set foot upon his kingdom again. And then, to seal his covenant with his subjects, he threw handful after handful of magic safety beans into the crowd, all emblazoned with the Princely “P.” It was well known throughout the Kingdom that the Prince never encountered a surface that he did not wish to grace with his Royal “P.”
I am speaking, of course, of the Prince’s insignia.
Whilst sowing the beans among his subjects, the Prince told them, “These are the best beans! The greatest! They will bring you the most safety! Plant them in your gardens, and you will have all the safety! All of it! You will say, ‘Prince, this is too much! We cannot handle all of this safety!’” And then, the Prince promised to use the beans to build a wall around the kingdom so bigly (his words, not mine) that no enemy could climb it. Immediately the Kingdom Folk, emboldened by the Prince’s promise, rushed home to plant their magic safety beans.
Now, the rationale behind this edict was that these people from Outside were particularly adept at summoning the Creatures of Smoke and Nightmare to plague his subjects, and thereby possessed a unique threat. These foul creatures could appear anywhere, at any time, and like all smoke and nightmares, they could find their way into the smallest cracks of the sturdiest strongholds. But in truth, anyone could learn to summon the Creatures of Smoke and Nightmare, because they sprung from the darkest parts of the human heart, and there is no shortage of darkness in human hearts in any land. Certainly, there was no small number of the Prince’s own subjects willing to turn loose Creatures of Smoke and Nightmare against their fellow citizens over matters so trivial as who should eat together with whom, or who should be allowed to love one another, or which outhouse one should make their privy in. Moreover, it was well known that previous Princes had been employing more and more sorcerers and spymasters, the better to root out the Prince’s enemies on the Outside. In fact, the information obtained by these Crown Agents had been used to justify many an aggressive act against the lands Outside, all in name of something called “pre-emptive self-defense.” But if these Agents were so successful at their task, and had exposed so many plots, why was there a need for this particular proclamation? It was almost as though the Prince would rather be seen doing something, than take the time to do it well.
Knowing this, the people of the lands on the Very Bad List of No-No Places cried out in anguish upon hearing news of the Prince’s proclamation.
“But I have been granted a writ entitling me to live within the Kingdom and earn my living there,” said one such person. “I was here visiting my mother, who has taken ill. My wife and children dwell in the Kingdom even now. Will I never see them again?” But the Prince did not answer, and the Kingdom Folk hardened their hearts to his pleas.
“But the Kingdom encouraged a bloody war in my land between two tribes, and it led to the destruction of my village,” cried one woman. “My wife is dead and my children have nowhere to lay their heads at night. We were to seek refuge in the Kingdom, for their lands are rich. Where are we to go now?” But the Prince did not answer, and the Kingdom Folk hardened their hearts to her pleas.
“But I was on the path to becoming a subject of the Crown, and had only to undertake the Trials of Loyalty,” said yet another. “I was made to swear oaths forsaking my family and friends because they had ties to curse-eaters and criminal gangs. I returned here only to wind up a business venture in order to cut the last of my ties this place, at the Crown’s own request. What will become of me, now that I have betrayed all that I was?” But the Prince did not answer, and the Kingdom Folk hardened their hearts to his pleas.
Meanwhile, back in the Kingdom, life went on much the same as it always did, except for one nagging complaint. You see, the Kingdom Folk began to wonder more and more about their own security. The fact that the Prince felt compelled to toss around magic safety beans in such large quantities, and all that talk about building what came to be known as The Bigly Beanstalk Wall made the folk of the Kingdom wonder: What does the Prince know that we don’t? How much danger are we really in?
The funny thing about security is if you have it, you can’t see it; but if you don’t have it, you’ll never know it until it’s too late. For some people, this provokes maddening levels of existential anxiety. For others, it’s Tuesday. In the Kingdom, as in most places, there were far more of the former kind of person than the latter. That sort of person will always want more and more proof that they are safe, which is a need that can never be satisfied. For living is an inherently dangerous activity, as some fresh danger is always lurking around the corner; and Fortune, in her infinite mirth, is always inventing new ways to bedevil the human race. Sober reflection on the precarious position of a single person’s place in the cosmos should lead one to be less likely to argue with others over trivialities such as differences in language or funerary practices, not more; but curiously, it appears to have the exact opposite effect. Philosophers, sages and theologians have studied this question endlessly. Ironically, they have become too embroiled in their own petty ideological disputes to make much sense of it.
But I fear we have digressed. To make the situation even more anxiety provoking, it’s not like dangerous things completely stopped happening in the Kingdom (dangerous things, as a rule, do not stop happening anywhere. This is part of what makes them dangerous). Every now and then the odd creature of Smoke and Nightmare would get loose and run amok. When this happened, everyone would wonder where it could have come from, and who could have set it loose. Inevitably, it was blamed on an Outsider found in the Kingdom who had slipped through the cracks, or a subject who looked like an Outsider, or had Outsiders for parents, or who sympathized with the Outsiders.
After discussing among themselves, the Kingdom Folk decided that the most prudent course of action was to petition the Prince for a further allotment of magic safety beans. After all, if some safety was good, them more must surely be better, no? Filled with purpose, the Kingdom Folk sent their representatives to appear before their Prince and make their plea. The Prince, considering his subjects’ claim from his balcony, stroked his ever-so-manly chin with a definitely larger-than-normal-sized hand and said, “You know, these magic safety beans don’t grow on trees” (a field of magic safety beanstalks swayed gently in the breeze in full view of the Kingdom Folk while he said this). “I’m afraid this time, it’s going to cost you something. You people need to have some skin in the game.”
“Uh, I’m sure we can come to a suitable arrangement with Your Majesty,” said the Kingdom Folk’s spokesperson. “Did Your Majesty have something in mind?”
“I’m hearing all these lies about me,” said the Prince. “Untrue. There needs to be no more of that. You hear me? No lies. Bad.”
“Well, I’m sure the Kingdom Folk will agree to that,” said the spokesman, and left with his party to bring news to the rest of his countrymen. Sure enough, the Kingdom Folk thought that not telling lies about the Prince was a small price to pay for more security, and so they sent word to the Prince. The Prince, true to his bargain, sent more magic safety beans.
Except…well…what the Prince meant by “Don’t tell lies about the Prince” differed from what the Kingdom Folk understood by “Don’t tell lies about the Prince.” To the Prince, those words meant, “Do not, any under circumstances, say or imply anything that could be construed as even the slightest bit negative about me, unless that negative is actually a positive, like how I care too much, or win too much, or my hands are too big.” This presented problems for the Kingdom Folk, because now the Prince’s guard would round up anyone suspected of “sedition” and lock them away in the Royal Dungeons without so much as a “how-do-you-do” or a show trial.
Naturally, this caused unrest among the Kingdom Folk, and violent incidents were on the rise. More Creatures of Smoke and Nightmare were seen, not fewer. The Kingdom Folk demanded that the Prince address the situation and distribute more magic safety beans, because clearly there were not enough in circulation. At this point, the Bigly Beanstalk Wall was in the process of being built, yet already some parts looked dried up and in need of watering or better soil. Upon a second look, it did not appear to be as bigly as advertised, and was partially redundant because much of the Kingdom’s borders were surrounded by wall or river anyway.
Once again, the Kingdom Folk sent their delegation, led by the same stout individual as before. The request was the same: more magic safety beans.
“Well, we can do that, but you need to bring something to the table,” said the Prince.
“Like a side dish?” asked the spokesperson.
“No, like a concession,” said the Prince.
“What did Your Majesty…”
“Look,” said the Prince, “this is the best Kingdom there is. The greatest. But to really take it to the next level, I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you, Your Majesty? But we already – “
“No, I mean stop asking so many questions. Too many questions. Not enough time!”
And so the delegation, fairly certain they understood the parameters of this deal, received approval from the Kingdom Folk to accept the Prince’s terms.
You see where this is going now, right?
Of course, the Kingdom Folk once again misunderstood the scope of what they agreed to. The Prince interpreted this bargain as exempting his government from answering any question about anything at any time. This even extended to such benign inquiries as requests for birth or property records. The government stopped anything having to do with the provision of information, the Prince sacked anyone in government whose primary job it was to supply such information, and then took credit for slashing the Kingdom’s budget.
This, in turn, led to more confusion and unrest among the Kingdom Folk. By this point, no one knew who was calling upon the Creatures of Smoke and Nightmare; it was as if they were drawn to the Kingdom itself the same way ravens are drawn to the site of a battlefield. The Bigly Beanstalk Wall was abandoned entirely, amid promises that the project would resume as soon at the Outsiders agreed to pay for it, like they had initially promised to do so. No one could quite remember this promise; but then again, the Kingdom Folk were now barred from asking about it, so who could say what was true and what was not anymore?
Yet the Kingdom Folk, stubbornly clinging to their faith in the efficacy of the magic safety beans, went to petition the Prince for more. At this point, the sentiment was that if magic safety beans had put them into this mess, then magic safety beans would get them out of it.
“Your Majesty…” began the spokesman.
“This better not be a question. Is it a question? No questions, you promised!” asked the Prince. He adjusted something on his head that was, most definitely, not a dead animal.
“Um, well, I…”
“Oh, you must be here for more magic safety beans. They’re the greatest, right?” The Prince smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
It suddenly occurred to the Kingdom Folk that none of the Prince’s smiles ever quite reached his eyes.
“Well, they don’t grow on trees, you know,” said the Prince, glancing over at the rapidly growing number of magic safety beanstalks in the field. Botanically speaking, the plants were like a cross between kudzu and amaranth, and were beginning to take over the Royal Gardens.
“Your Majesty, we are quite aware of the agricultural methodology employed to grow legumes of all varieties,” said the spokesperson. “May we please discuss — “ the spokesperson stopped himself, realizing he was about to ask a question. “Yes, we would like to discuss the subject of obtaining more magic safety beans.”
“Hmm. Well, your inner villages are terrible places. So violent! You can’t straighten them out, so I am going to have to straighten them out for you. Totally clean them up. 100%!”
“We would like to discuss what the benefit to you is in giving us more magic safety beans and also doing the work of securing our streets.”
“In business, we call that a win-win, because I win and then I win again because I let you win.”
The Kingdom Folk realized that this didn’t make any sense, but what could be done? Without the ability to ask questions of the Prince, they cut themselves off from the only tool they could have used to figure out if there was a catch. And with the Prince, there was always a catch. That’s the thing about language: when you give it up, or have part of it taken from you, you stop being able to think in terms of the language you’ve lost, so it really never occurred to anyone there to probe any further. It was as though they had hit a wall of nonsense and just stopped there, unable to progress any further because they didn’t know how to ask for directions around the wall. Having no better options, they took the deal.
The Prince’s troops arrived the very next day, to carry out the proclamation of martial law.
Over time, the conditions of the Kingdom Folk began to resemble those of the people Outside, in the lands on the Very Bad List of No-No Places. And so many of the Kingdom Folk tried to seek refuge in those lands.
This is where our tale begins to reach its end.
If this were a “happily ever after” sort of fairy tale, I would tell you that the people in the lands of the Very Bad List of No-No Places welcomed the Kingdom Folk with open arms, because they saw within them a common thread of humanity and were willing to show compassion where they themselves were shown none.
This is not that kind of fairy tale. This is one of the old tales, where witches trick brides into donning shoes that compel them to dance themselves to death at their own weddings. Where lessons must be taught in fear, and blood.
In the end the Outsiders of the Very Bad List of No-No Places did welcome the refugees from the Kingdom with open arms, and prepared a great feast in their honor. Late that night, when their guests were sated with food and wine, they summoned the very same Creatures of Smoke and Nightmare that the Kingdom Folk feared so much, and set them loose upon the Kingdom Folk to strip the flesh from their bones and leave their ghosts trapped, screaming, for all eternity, in their flayed skeletons. And no one lived Happily Ever After.
Except for the Prince. He slept like a baby.