The following short story is roughly inspired by the “Socratic dialogue” genre of philosophy. The characters are fictional, and the setting is meant to be a convent in my own fantasy world, Nerasia.
The location: Northern Mosoria
The date: 1170 IA.
Sioa leaned against a banister overlooking a lush garden — her favorite place in the convent. But today, the gurgling fountain, sweet-smelling flowers, and shimmering butterflies aloft in beams of golden light all did nothing to lift her spirits.
The news she’d just heard was awful — almost dreadful beyond belief. One of her fellow cenobites, Nikoha, a boy who’d entered the convent not long after her, had been terribly assaulted on his way to town.
The resident physician was not sure if Nikoha would survive his injuries.
Sioa gripped the banister. Her stomach had been in knots all afternoon, ever since she heard the news. Why would people do something so cruel and heartless?
Some of the cenobites whispered the attack was because Nikoha was from the Ali tribe. Sioa feared they may be right. Many people in these parts still hated the Ali, as if everyone in that tribe alive today were responsible for a dreadful betrayal that happened more than three hundred years ago.
It didn’t make any sense. None of this did.
Her throat tightened. If Nikoha died… she couldn’t bear it. Her world already felt disjointed, out of place, like someone had lifted it up and jammed it back sideways.
“Why are people so terrible?” she whispered.
At the sound of scuffling footsteps behind her, Sioa whirled.
“You’re asking the wrong question,” came a low reply.
Sioa rolled her eyes, a hand over her pattering heart. “Ketesa. You startled me.” In a dry voice she added, “For the record, I was talking to myself.”
To Sioa’s irritation, Ketesa ignored the very large hint and joined Sioa at the balcony. Ketesa’s long, auburn hair trailed over her dark convent robes, rustling slightly in the soft summer breeze.
Sioa did not like Ketesa. She’d heard of the woman’s troubled youth, before she’d joined the convent. Apparently she’d gotten involved in all sorts of crimes and mischief. Though she certainly showed a more pious face now, there was something unsettling about Ketesa’s smirk, and the ever-present dark twinkle in her eyes.
“Rather,” Ketesa said in a smooth voice, “it’s a mystery more people aren’t terrible.”
Sioa leaned away, to maintain some semblance of personal space. “What do you mean? Why would anyone want to be terrible?”
“It’s fun,” Ketesa said darkly, not looking at her. “Hurting people. Killing people. Having control over people.” And then, rolling the word like it was sweet on her tongue: “Power.”
Sioa gave her a hard, suspicious stare.
“It’s curious to me,” Ketesa continued, “that more people aren’t swayed by the temptations of these vices.” After noticing the look on Sioa’s face, Ketesa hurried to add: “I’m grateful for this, of course. I couldn’t be happier that only a small percentage of people are, I think, ‘terrible,’ as you say. But I don’t understand it. Not when being terrible is so…” She traced the curve of the banister with her finger. “…fun.”
“Is that what you think?” Sioa found herself raising her voice, eyes stinging. “Those people who attacked Nikoha like that, for no reason — they were just having fun?”
Sioa couldn’t believe this. She felt even sicker than before.
Ketesa looked at her sadly. “I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. This was the wrong time to wax philosophical.”
Sioa sighed. “Yes, it was.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Somewhere, a frog croaked.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Sioa finally said. “Nikoha is one of the kindest and gentlest people I know. Why would anyone want to hurt him? It’s like that story about the rape that happened down river. Or even — the stories about the Dorins, and the empire, from our history lessons. There’s so much cruelty and violence in the world. I don’t understand. How can people treat each other so terribly?”
“It makes a lot of sense, actually,” Ketesa said, more gently this time. “When you realize… well, like I said. Violence is fun. It’s a scary thing to think about, but it’s true.” Her gaze took on a distant look, as if recalling a dark memory.
“There’s a lot more to life than fun,” Sioa snapped. “Some of us actually care about things that matter.”
Ketesa looked at her sideways. “Like what?”
“What?”
“What matters more than fun? Than enjoying yourself?”
Sioa gaped at her, indignant. “People do!” she sputtered. “People’s feelings do! Doing the right thing, standing for something you believe — without these things, life is empty. No matter how much ‘fun’ you’re having in the moment.”
“Hmm. Why?”
“What?”
“Why do they matter more?” Ketesa twirled a strand of red-brown hair around her finger. “You seem so certain that ‘terrible’ people are unhappy, deep down. But what if they’re not? If you’re truly enjoying yourself, why would it matter if others aren’t? Why would it matter what you believed, or if you believed anything at all? If you’re happy, what more do you need, really?”
Sioa had to think about that one for moment. “You can’t be happy if you’re all alone,” she said quietly. “And that’s what you’ll be, if you’re a monster.”
“Hmm. There will always be other monsters.”
Sioa narrowed her eyes. “How do you know they won’t devour you?”
Now it was Ketesa’s turn to ponder. Her mask of cool nonchalance melted into a look of unsettled contemplation.
“That’s it, then,” Ketesa muttered.
“That’s what?”
“The mystery — why more people aren’t terrible. I think you cracked it. Most people don’t like to be alone. And being kind to others, selfless, merciful… well, this is how you make friends. And keep them. Once you start down the path of becoming a monster, only other monsters can come with you. But… this will never be quite the same. Friendship with another monster will never have the trust, the authenticity, the depth that most of us crave.”
Ketesa looked upon Sioa seriously. “In order to give in fully to that darkness, one has to accept a certain amount of loneliness. Most people can’t do that.”
Sioa shifted on her feet uncomfortably. “I don’t know. It all seems kind of obvious to me. Just don’t be terrible. If someone wants to hurt people, and they like it –” Her voice cracked. “Well, they’re the scum of the world.”
“That they are,” Ketesa said gravely. “That they are.”
Hearing a quick pattering of footsteps, Sioa turned to see the physician’s assistant, Imoki, rushing towards her.
Sioa’s heart lurched, fearing the worst. Please don’t be dead, she chanted in her thoughts. Please don’t be dead.
“Sioa,” Imoki said, gasping for breath. “Nikoha is awake. He wants to see you.”
Sioa felt she might burst from happiness. Without so much as a glance back at Ketesa, she hurried to follow Imoki back to Nikoha’s room, where he’d been placed unconscious hours ago.
“Is he going to be all right?” Sioa said.
Imoki smiled over his shoulder. “I think so, maraí. I think so.”
