Voices from the Other World Read Free

would feel that they have enough to be satisfied. In him, this sick society found a sound and skillful physician—and so they clung to his example, embracing his ideals.
    The results were breathtaking, dazzling the seers and the wise men alike. They wiped out crime, put evil to flight, and remedied all ills. The spreading wings of happiness sheltered the district. The civic leaders rejoiced, praising and putting their faith in the man whom they had previously disbelieved. They reveled at finally reaching the noble end that they had spent their whole lives trying vainly to achieve.
    Time marched on, smoothly and quietly, in an atmosphere of calm—as things changed into a state that people had never before seen.
    The authorities were the first to feel the coming of the new age. In truth, they found themselves with nothing to do—and leisure delights only those who work for a living. The empty hours grew heavier and heavier upon them—as, with mournful eyes, they watched their majesty fade, their wind blow away, and their radiance dim into gloom.
    In the past, the constable had the power to spread panic wherever he paused for an instant. But now he had become a thing that people looked back at defiantly, with blatant contempt—to the point where they trod blithely past him as they would a broken idol.
    And the magistrate, who had wielded his sacred power with a divine dignity, was now sheepish with anguish and sorrow. He heard not a greeting nor an urgent request, nor did he return the welcome of those who called out to him. He felt only loneliness and isolation, until he became like an abandoned temple in the desert.
    As for the doctor, groaning from hidden complaints, he locked himself in his house—neither receiving guests, nor visiting anyone else. Before this, he had hoarded money in a cooking pot, but now he had started to use up what he had saved, while his heart pounded with worry.
    Meanwhile, the province rested secure in its state of grace—except for those who had deluded themselves into believing that they were the “Manufacturers of Virtue.” They were now desperate and perplexed, turning left and right for a way out of this distressing situation. Yet they could find none. The constable suffered most of all, because—though the boldest among them— he nonetheless dreaded declaring his anxieties, only to encounter deaf ears and confident, contented hearts.
    Finally, his patience exhausted, he seized the opportunity offered by a meeting with his peers to wonder aloud, in a voice filled with fear, “What would we do if the Sovereign—as of tomorrow—should have no more need of our services?”
    Their faces went blank. Stammering, one of them asked, “Is it likely that he could really do without us?”
    Ram said, shrugging his shoulders in disdain, “What can we do to merit being kept on?”
    With these words, it was as if he had lifted the lid from an overfilled kettle, and all inside it came spilling out. One of them said, “You cannot keep quiet in a fix like this.”
    Shaking his fist, another shouted, “That doting old man has ruined the district!”
    A third complained, “He is wrecking the human capacity for loftiness with this corrupting appeal, that hinders all progress and slaughters all fears.”
    The secret talk stirred among them, as each revealed what was inside him—except for the magistrate. He stuck to his silence, gazing off into the distant horizons as though he heard nothing of what was being said around him. His apparition nearly caused many of them to give up hoping for his aid, until Ram whispered to them in embarrassment, “Don’t worry about Sumer— his heart is with us. It’s just that his tongue, which is used to speaking about Justice, will not obey him in pursuing our purpose here.”
    And so they all agreed about what to do. . . .
    One morning, the sun rose to reveal that the