The Allegory of the Blanket

"So — you're telling us that all life must come to an end. Even for us, who, unlike almost every species on our world, or on any world we have yet found, do not age," said the youngling. "What is the point of it, then?" he demanded, loudly. Around him the other children laughed — as quietly as they could manage.

The teacher turned. "And what seems to be so funny?"

"Spirto is wondering what the point of it all is!" said Tilda. "He's diverging from the collective again."

"To be different," said the teacher, "is the key to all evolution. Things do not change when they stay the same — do they?"

"But we are a collective," said Tilda, with a puzzled look. "We share our goals, and our methods, to move forward together."

"I think it is time you all heard the Allegory of the Blanket," said the teacher, lightly. The children switched off their devices and settled comfortably to listen.

"Imagine two people lying on a bed," the teacher began, "covered by a single blanket. Beneath it they stay warm, and the warmth lets them think better, and advance faster. But in time, the blanket begins to gather microorganisms — from the feet of these two people."

"Are their feet so very smelly?" Spirto interrupted, and once more the class laughed and slid away from the lesson.

"These people," said the teacher, with a smile, "are not like you and me. Think of their whole world as this bed, and this blanket."

"Then why would their feet gather microorganisms, if they never leave the bed?" Spirto asked, curious now.

"Think of their feet as the exhaust — the by-product of everything they do," said the teacher.

"Ah — I understand," Spirto smiled, satisfied.

"Now, both of these creatures want what is best for their world — their bed. Both are trying to work out how to make it clean again. But they struggle to cooperate. They share no language."

The curiosity of the class began to climb. Even Spirto had gone quiet, listening.

"Each of them has a solution," the teacher went on. "They can rotate the blanket — turn it end for end, head to foot. Whoever does the turning ends up in the clean half, for the dirty foot-end is carried up to where the clean head-end had been." The teacher noticed that Spirto was smiling. "But that same turn leaves the other person covered by a blanket that is now filthy at every point."

"That's what the other one gets, for letting the first one turn the blanket," said Spirto, with a smile — and the class turned to look at him, a little shocked.

"That is neither fair, nor can it ever bear results," said Tilda.

"Let us save the arguments for the end," said the teacher. "The one who is now on the clean side can think and act better; their effort to clean the bed will be sharper, more focused. But the other one cannot contribute to any advancement at all — because their first concern must now be simply to reach a clean spot of their own."

"Why doesn't the first one use its clearer mind to clean the other one first, then?" asked Tilda.

"Because that only means the first one should never have turned the blanket to begin with," said Spirto, a little irritated.

"That is correct," said the teacher. "If the two creatures begin their tug-of-war, hauling the blanket back and forth, the result is bad no matter how it ends. If one wins, the other suffers, and the bed is fouled. If neither wins, the struggle only costs them time — time enough for the microorganisms to spread further, so that both lose. The only way through is cooperation. And trust."

"Like our rule of the galaxy," said Tilda, smiling.

"Exactly!" said the teacher. "For eons we have grown our empire by drawing in more species, each to aid our shared evolution. We do it always together — and so we have kept peace, and order, all this time."

"Until Vartars!" said Spirto. The name brought a hush of fear over the class.

"Yes," said the teacher. "Until Vartars. As you all know, Vartars cannot be reasoned with, cannot be trusted, cannot be made to cooperate. He hauls the blanket relentlessly, meaning to kill the other person and go on into the future alone. Vartars is one being — only one — but he carries the accumulated knowledge of every people he has ever met. He assimilates them, and spreads through the galaxy like a virus."

"Which is why we have to pull harder on our own side of the blanket," said Spirto, triumphant.

"But we are so many, and he is one," said Tilda. "Why is he defeating us so easily? I heard, on the Grit-planet news, that he is unstoppable — that many worlds surrender without a fight the moment he arrives."

"Because we evolved through peace," said the teacher. "We did not evolve through war, and trickery. Our weapons are primitive; our skill at making them, more primitive still."

"I heard the Stigians held Vartars off for hundreds of their planet’s turns, before they fell," said Spirto.

"Yes. Many members of our empire evolved through war, and carry better weapons than ours. But once they fall, Vartars's own weapons drink in their knowledge, and grow better still."

"So we are simply to sit, and let him swallow the galaxy?" Spirto asked, angry now.

"No!" said the teacher. "It takes eons for a different one to be born. But every time the irregular is born, it carries us up to the next level. It was Difiron who united us for the first journey to the stars — we owe our galactic empire to him. After him came Sofeti, who led our people to defeat the Arhte armadas, and then convinced the people of Arhte to join our quest. Today they are our closest researchers."

"And what about the Litons?" asked Tilda. "They contribute nothing but their own pleasure."

"They harm no one — and they are held to be the most advanced species in all our empire," said the teacher. "So long as no one pulls the blanket, every species adds to our shared advancement."

"Then why do they need us?" asked Spirto.

"What do you mean?" asked the teacher.

"Why is the empire ruled by us, and not by the strongest — the Litons, say? Perhaps they could lead us to build war-machines, to destroy Vartars."

"Because we are the ones who can travel. We are the ones who can grow things. It is our food, and our systems of energy and distribution, that let the empire grow at all. We do not keep growing because we are the most feared. We keep growing because everyone knows we are the best at keeping the blanket unturned."

"But now the blanket is turning," said Spirto.

"And we are searching for an answer," said the teacher. "Perhaps another divergent will appear — one who thinks differently — and lead us to defeat Vartars before it is too late."

The teacher's words drew every eye in the class to Spirto. And this time, they did not look at him as they had before. This time, they looked at him... differently.

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