Terry Goodkind - Naked Empire

“So you eat only plants, eggs, cheese—things like that.”

“Of course.”

“How do you make cheese?”

In the awkward silence, someone in the back of the room coughed.

“I am the Wise One. I have not been called upon to do this work. Others make cheese for us to eat.”

“I see; you don’t know how to make cheese for your dinner because no one has ever taught you. That’s perfect. Here you are, then, blindfolded and with a clear mind not all clogged up with troublesome knowledge on the subject. So, how do you make cheese? Is it coming to you? Is the method of making cheese being sent to you through your blindfolded divine introspection?”

“Reality cannot be tested—”

“Tell me how, if you were to wear a blindfold so you couldn’t see, put wax in your ears so you couldn’t hear, and put on heavy mittens so you couldn’t feel anything, how you would even do something as simple as picking a radish to eat. Tell you what, you can leave the wax out of your ears, and not bother with the mittens. Just leave that blindfold on and show me how you can pick a radish so you have something to eat. I’ll even help you find the door, first; then you’re on your own. Come on, then. Off you go.”

The Wise One licked his lips. “Well, I . . .”

“If you deny yourself sight, hearing, touch . . . how will you plant food to sustain your life, or how can you even hunt for berries and nuts? If nothing is real, then how long until you starve to death while you wait for some inner voice of ‘truth’ to feed you?”

One of the speakers rushed forward, trying to push Richard back.

Richard shoved the man so hard that it sat him on the ground. The speakers cowered back a few paces. Richard put one boot up on the platform, laid his arm across his knee, and leaned close to the Wise One.

“Answer my questions, ‘Wise One.’ Tell me what staring blindly inwardly has so far revealed to you about making cheese. Come on; let’s hear it.”

“But . . . it’s not a fair question.”

“Oh? A question regarding the pursuit of a value is not fair? Life requires all living things to successfully pursue values if they are to continue to live. A bird dies if it can’t succeed at catching a worm. It’s basic. People are no different.”

“Stop the hate.”

“You already have on a blindfold. Why don’t you plug your ears and hum a tune to yourself so you won’t be thinking about anything”—Richard leaned in and lowered his voice dangerously—“and in your state of infinite wisdom, Wise One, just try to guess what I’m about to do to you.”

The boy squealed in fright and scooted back.

Kahlan pushed her way between Richard and Anson and sat back on the platform. She put an arm around the terrified boy and pulled him close to comfort him. He pressed himself into her sheltering protection.

“Richard, you’re scaring the poor boy. Look at him. He’s shaking like a leaf.”

Richard pulled the blindfold off the boy’s head. In confused dismay, he peered fearfully up at Richard.

“Why did you go to her?” Richard asked in a gentle tone.

“Because, you were about to hurt me.”

“You mean, then, that you were hoping she would protect you?”

“Of course—you’re bigger than me.”

Richard smiled. “Do you see what you’re saying? You were frightened and you hoped to be protected from danger. That wasn’t wrong of you, was it? To want to be safe? To fear aggression? To seek help from someone you thought might be big enough to stop the threat?”

The boy looked confused. “No, I guess not.”

“And what if I held a knife to you? Wouldn’t you want to have someone prevent me from cutting you? Wouldn’t you want to live?”

The boy nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s the value we’re talking about, here.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Life,” Richard said. “You want to live. That is noble. You don’t want someone else to take your life. That is just.

“All creatures want to live. A rabbit will run if threatened; that’s why he has strong legs. He doesn’t need the strong legs or big ears to find and eat tender shoots. He has the big ears to listen for threats, and the strong legs to escape.

“A buck will snort in warning if threatened. A snake may shake a rattle to ward off threats. A wolf growls a warning. But if the danger keeps coming and they can’t escape, a buck may trample it, the snake may strike, and the wolf may attack. None of them will go looking for a fight, but they will protect themselves.

“Man is the only creature who willingly submits to the fangs of a predator. Only man, through continual indoctrination such as you’ve been given, will reject the values that sustain life. Yet, you instinctively did the right thing in going to my wife.”

“I did?”

“Yes. Your ways couldn’t protect you, so you acted on the chance that she might. If I really were someone intent on harming you, she would have fought to stop me.”

He looked up into Kahlan’s smile. “You would?”

“Yes, I would. I, too, believe in the nobility of life.”

He stared in wonder.

Kahlan slowly shook her head. “But your instinctive act of seeking protection would have done you no good had you instead sought the protection of people who live by the misguided teachings you repeat. Those teachings condemn self-preservation as a form of hate. Your people are being slaughtered with the aid of their own beliefs.”

He looked stricken. “But, I don’t want that.”

Kahlan smiled. “Neither do we. That’s why we came, and why Richard had to show you that you can know the truth of reality and doing so will help you survive.”

“Thank you,” he said to Richard.

Richard smiled and gently smoothed down the boy’s blond hair. “Sorry I had to frighten you to show you that what you were saying didn’t really make any sense. I needed to show you that the words you’ve been taught can’t serve you well—you can’t live by them because they are devoid of reality and reason. You look to me like a boy who cares about living. I was like that when I was your age, and I still am. Life is wonderful; take delight in it, look around with the eyes you have, and see it in all its glory.”

“No one has ever talked to me about life in this way. I don’t get to see much. I have to stay inside all the time.”

“Tell you what, maybe, before I go, I can take you for a walk in the woods and show you some of the wonders of the world around you—the trees and plants, birds, maybe we’ll even see a fox—and we’ll talk some more about the wonders and joy of life. Would you like that?”

The boy’s face lit up with a grin. “Really? You would do that for me?”

Richard smiled one of those smiles that so melted Kahlan’s heart. He playfully pinched the boy’s nose. “Sure.”

Owen came forward and ran his fingers affectionately through the boy’s hair. “I was once like you—a Wise One—until I got a little older than you.”

The boy frowned up at him. “Really?”

Owen nodded. “I used to think that I had been chosen because I was special and somehow only I was able to commune with some glorious otherworldly dominion. I believed that I was gushing great wisdom. Looking back, I am ashamed to see how foolish it all was. I was made to listen to lessons. I was never allowed to be a boy. The great speakers praised me for repeating back the things I had heard, and when I spoke then with great scorn to people, they told me how wise I was.”

“Me, too,” the boy said.

Richard turned back to the men. “This is what your people have been reduced to as a source of wisdom—listening to children repeating meaningless expressions. You have minds in order to think and understand the world around you. This self-imposed blindness is a dark treason to yourselves.”