The Eighth Day of Klaug, a short story

The need to draw a line overtakes the position

On the eighth day of Klaug, the speaker, chosen by sortition, mounted the dais. There was great tumult in the crowd and throat sacs wobbled fast. On this day a new technology was to be deployed, developed in the eerie laboratories of Leung. In appearance, A simple necklace and pendant but its function was fantastical. Aided by the unique neuroanatomy of the Twowakks it would glow red when the wearer was hiding something. For a democracy like that of the Twowakks, such a function would be revolutionary. At last, truly equitable and above all public democracy was possible!

By convention, at the beginning of each day of sitting, the first topic to be discussed was public morality. The reader might note that such a topic is, of necessity, contentious in parliaments, assemblies and congresses across the galaxy. The reader might therefore wonder if it was not an inauspicious place for the Twowakks to begin deliberation. For another species perhaps, yet the Twowakks never could get enough of it- the ins and outs of right and wrong, or to put it a little differently- who they left in and who they cast out.

The speaker began:

“Assuredly, then, in the confidence of honesty that these devices give us, we must reaffirm our collective opposition to Kluzaknomi.”

The practice of Kluzaknomi had long been condemned by the flock, yet as the speaker finished his injunction, mirabilis dicta,  fully three-quarters of throats were lit by a red glow. Moreover, as the Twowakks looked around curiously at their neighbors and begun to think about the full meaning of Kluzaknomi, there were looks of strained revelation and yet more Leung forged pendants lit up in a vast constellation of sin.

The democratic flock looked pained- unsure how to continue. Finally, one from in the crowd began to speak, and the auto-mic drone swept down to them. “If, my brothers, sisters, and nibbers, we cannot in honesty condemn the practice of Kluzaknomi with anything like unanimity, let us at least take our stand against the loathsome and moreover pathetic practice of Rivoric.”

This time not quite so many necks caught alight, yet still a troubling number burned red, perhaps a whole half. Even the speaker of the assembly, standing upon his dias, was lit in shame. The silence was dark now, for whereas the practice of Kluzaknomi was considered quite bad, Rivoric was seen as very serious indeed. Some even held that it was disgraceful, in the sense of being beyond grace or forgiveness.

An older Nibber saw this, and moreover, remembering their shame, saw that their own throat was glowing as well. Eager to reverse things they said, “Let us instead begin at the very base of morality, by making clear our rejection of degenerate Nostaum.”

Still a great many necks, perhaps one in four, began to glow. Even as the chroma-feathers of the guilty became ashen, the throat pouches of those innocent of Nostaum began to wobble at a thoughtful frequency. Could they afford to condemn such a number? Nostaum was very grave indeed- under many circumstances it was treated as a crime-, but who did not have close friends or broodmates among the guilty and glowing quarter? Their contemplation may have continued longer had not a hurried voice yelled out “The real place to draw the boundary between what we will and will not tolerate is at cosumy. Who but the wicked would even consider such a foul practice as cosumy?

Perhaps ten percent of necks glowed and now those with glowing pendants looked truly afraid, for there was little sympathy in the eyes of those around them. That pity that there was, was the pity of those who have already resolved what they are going to do.

“Let the motion be put that in order to wash off certain filth that has accreted to its glorious feathers and excise impurity this flock condemns the disgraceful practice of cosumy, and any who have ever...”

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EDIT: On the Slate Star Codex Subreddit I gave the following response to a reader who asked what I meant by this story. My reply is a bit pompous, but I’ll include it here as much for my records as anything:

Great questions, I normally follow a rule against making any statements about the meaning of my poetry or fiction, but I think a remarks might be useful here.

Firstly, this may seem minor but I think it's important to clarify that I never envisaged that those "named and shamed" at the end die, indeed I suspect they aren't even imprisoned or fined. Rather I think their reputations are probably torn apart, their hearts are broken and then they come back next week and try to give as good as they got. This is important because what's going on is more farcical than tragic, although there is tragedy in the heart of it.

Secondly, I deliberately did not want there to be any one-to-one mapping between our world and the world of the flock. That is to say that the story is not a parable with a singular message. Rather, I wanted to suggest many different incomplete parallels. The aim, rather than propounding a particular thesis was three-fold:

A) To make something funny by mirroring our society like a distorted carnival mirror

B) To give a "jumping off point" for reflections about our own society, powered, in part, by the tangle of multiple partial parallels.

C) To give a kind of metaphorical lens for the reader to see and label phenomena in our world through, that could be used in different ways and persist long after reading.

I figure that if you're going to do something didactic with a single moral you are better off using non-fiction prose. Fiction is for presenting the reader with a world and saying "start here, analyze, compare and contrast and tell me what you find".