A Modern Fable

As is well known, the nations of Gladovia and Saronin have been enemies for many centuries. In medieval times, each had ruled the other at different times, and each remembered, with bitterness, the other's heavy-handed domination. Even in the twentieth century, the two nations had managed to be on opposite sides in the major wars that were then fought.

In the century of peace that followed the last of the great wars, Gladovia and Saronin had also been at peace, but always regarded each other with a sneer and a curl of the lip.

But it was now 2080, and the solar power stations were in orbit about Earth collecting energy from the Sun and relaying it in the form of microwaves to the nations of all the world. It had utterly changed the world in many ways. With copious solar energy, the use of fossil fuels had dwindled, and the danger of the greenhouse effect had diminished (although some excess heat arising from solar energy did produce some heat pollution).

With copious energy and with better population control, standards of living rose, the food supply improved, the distribution of resources was rationalized and, in general, an era of prosperity and contentment was in bloom.

One thing, however, that had not changed was the antipathy of Gladovians for Saronin, and the dislike of the Saronese for Gladovia.

Of course, the solar power stations did not run themselves. Despite thorough automation and the intense use of robots, it was still important for a few human beings to inspect the various stations periodically to make sure that all was running well and that tiny flecks of space debris and unexpected spurts of solar wind did not alter the workings of the computers beyond the capacity of the robots, and of the computers themselves, to correct matters.

Those chosen for the task served their stints and were regularly rotated so that the effects of zero gravity could be minimized by rest periods on Earth's surface. It was purely coincidence, then, that the Space-Servitors (as they were called) in the summer of 2080, consisted among others, of two Gladovians and two Saronese. These traditional enemies were thrown together in the course of their work and they performed their tasks correctly, but were careful to restrict communications with each other to the barest essentials and to refrain from any smiles or warmth.

And one day, the younger Gladovian, Tomasz Brigon by name, came to the older one, Hamish Mansa, with a tense smile of delight, and said, "That fool of a Saronese has done it this time." "Which one?" asked Mansa.

"The one whose name sounds like a sneeze. Who can speak that foolish Saronese language? In any case, with true Saronese stupidity he has miscued Computer A-5."

Mansa looked alarmed. "With what result?"

"None yet. But whenever the solar wind density rises above the 1.3 level, it will shut down half the power stations and burn out several of the computers."

"And what did you do about that?" Mansa's eyes opened wide.

"Nothing," said Brigon. "I was there and I saw it happen. Now, it's on the record. The Saronese identified himself as the worker on the Computer, and when the power stations shut down, and the computers burn out, the world will know that it was a stupid Saronese that did it." Brigon stretched his arms luxuriously and said, with delight, "Everyone in the world will be furious, and the whole wicked nation of Saronin will be humiliated."

Mansa said, "But meanwhile the energy supply to Earth will be totally disrupted, and it may not be possible to restore the system to working order for months, perhaps for a year or two."

"Plenty of time," said Brigon, "for the world to wipe Saronin from the face of the Earth, so that our own glorious nation of Gladovia can take over the territory that is rightfully ours."

"But think a bit," said Mansa. "With so much energy suddenly gone, the world will be too busy trying to save itself from disaster to engage in crusades. There will be disruption of industry, the danger of starvation, the gathering of mobs of the distressed, the fighting over what energy can be obtained-total chaos."

"All the worse for Saronin-"

"But the chaos will come to Gladovia, too. Our glorious nation depends on the solar energy supply just as Saronin does, just as the whole world does. There will be a world of catastrophe from which-who can tell-Gladovia may suffer far worse than Saronin. Who can tell?"

Brigon's mouth fell open and he looked disturbed. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course. You must go to the one whose name is like a sneeze, and ask him to recheck his work. You needn't say you know something is wrong. It's simply that you were there, and you suddenly have this strange feeling that all is not well. Say you have a presentiment. And if he finds the miscue and corrects it, do not taunt him. It would not be safe to do so. And do it quickly! For the glorious nation of Gladovia! And for the world, of course."

Brigon had no choice. He did so, and the peril was averted.

Moral:

People always love themselves best. But in a world so interconnected that harm to one is harm to all, the best way of loving one's self, is to love everyone else, too.