Reading Is An Act of
Rebellion
by Minis Aan
At first I did not
consider reading to be anything but tedious lessons, though my first
tutor and nurse both read to me, extensively. I learned to read to
be able to 'do it myself', at a young age. Perhaps, even then, I
realized that it was dangerous for them to be so close to me, since
my nurse always read to me with me on her lap, and my tutor would put
his arm around me when we were reading difficult passages.
My late father, Sixteenth
Kurkas, was always leery of anyone touching me, as he was leery of
anyone touching him. He could touch, grab, pinch... but no one dared
touch him without express command. So, in my early life, reading was
associated with touch and connection, however illicit.
And it was the year I
turned seven, during Jitzmitthra, that I took the notion to see what
the Portals of Propriety were hiding from me.
If
the readers of this piece are not Arkan, let me explain. First of
all, though we have the technology to print hundreds and thousands of
books, the information in them used to be very carefully controlled.
The Pages had an Office of the Censor, though it was not always
filled or, as in the time of my father was a perquisite for one of my
father's friends who would most often sleep and let the Pages Editor
carefully decide what was safe to print. There was also an Office of
the Censor in the Marble Palace that vetted every printed thing that
came into the City and sent it to its place in the libraries.
General
consumption was everything that anyone could read, could they even
read in the first place. Then there came the Portals of Propriety.
The first Portal was the barrier to any male under age seven.
(Females were not allowed to read, on pain of flogging, though many
men taught their wives and daughters in secret. Or the girls learned
by themselves sitting in on their brother's lessons, often while
doing womanly things like embroidery.)
After
that was the Second Portal, barred to boys under the second
Threshold, or age fourteen. Third Portal is for grown men older than
twenty-one. There are seven other Portals, depending on Status and
Political clearance not available to the Public, for a total of ten.
The last Portal, or Tenth, were Decrees of Imperium, or the
Declarations of the Imperator.
When I was seven, as I
said, on impulse, decided to flout all custom and good comportment
and see what was behind the Portals forbidden me.
Even on Jitzmitthra there
was a guard, but not the regular librarian who sat at the desk. He,
of course, had the holiday and his job was given over to one of the
Marble Palace guard, who included it in their regular patrols. All I
had to do is hide behind one of the statues nearby, Ninian the
Feckless Mounting to the Heights, as I recall, because his horse's
tail provided the perfect cover for me, and there wait till the guard
had passed by.
I admit to a certain
amount of breathless fear entering because what marvels would I find,
tiptoeing in. And was disappointed! This? A book of fairy tales
that showed an uncovered house donkey on the cover? Really?
It wasn't until I got to
the adult sections that I found what I thought was 'the good stuff'.
Haian medical books that showed everything, male and female. Gasp.
Yeoli language books with naked hands waving. Tor Enchian horse
breeding books. It was the explicit pictures that had hidden them
here behind the locked gates. Oh, yes, I had to steal the keys from
the Head Librarian's desk to get in.
Then there were the
political texts that were subversive. Some written by Imperators
before my father whose ideas had fallen out of fashion as they had
less power than my father did. He saw them as weak and had all their
ideals locked away out of public view.
They were all lumped
together in a bin actually, at the back of the political section,
with foreign policy texts and a dozen copies of the Fingers of God by
the Naked Prophet.
I believe this is where I
began to understand that my father controlled books and despised
reading and learning in general, because some of the political texts
actually supported his position, but they were chucked together with
the radical texts because he obviously didn't know or care. If he
didn't, then his librarians didn't bother with them. As long as they
were locked away they didn't have to think about the dangerous ideas
contained inside their covers.
I chose a stack of
books... actually more than I could carry, but put them all on a
trolly to wheel down to the Silver Stacks which was my personal
library. I instructed a servant to have another book shelf set up,
with doors that I had the key to so they could not be seen. I had to
protect myself and had someone reported me to my father that I was
reading out of age and above my security clearance – because there
were things there that even I was not supposed to see or know – he
would probably have made me burn the lot of them.
I commanded my nurse to
not touch my reading materials and then began maintaining a stack of
books on the headboard of the bed... shoved in apparently haphazardly
so most of the spines or titles did not show, with several knuckle
suckers visible, some of my assigned texts, and my personal Holy Book
of the Ten, the one bound in silver, prominently on top. It was a
heavy book and my father was unlikely to touch or move it on his
visits into my rooms.
First of all my father
wasn't interested in books at all. Secondly, none of my companions
would touch them. They had their own and we had our Dekinas
instructor for Holy teachings who had his own copy of the Book. It
was as safe as I could make them.
I also had several hiding
places that only I knew where they were. That was where I kept the
Haian medical texts, the most subversive of the political books (that
were well written and my favourites).
Around that stack I had
several innocuous copies of the Pages that would be regularly cleaned
away by the staff, so everyone got used to my always having a stack
of books to hand and very few people thought anything of it.
I kept the Warmaster's
books in the locked cabinet, and the Great General's Series. One of
my teachers in General craft gave me guidance as to what books were
worthwhile to keep and re-read.
That bookcase was my
horde of ideas, as I called them. They glistened in my mind
sometimes, like gemstones, and it became a yearly trek, a yearly
book-hunt to add to my philosophies. One of the things that hurt me
most during the years of my exile, was the lack of anything to read
but what was approved by my guardian, 2nd
Amitzas Mahid, which was the Holy Book and the texts that Ailadas,
my tutor, could carry.
During that time, one of
the Mahid was sent to buy books to continue my Imperial Education and
it was as though they'd given me a birthday gift, solstice gift and
name-day gift all at once. He had brought candles to read by and
books that I had not yet read.
You see, ideas take root
in your mind if they are good ideas, and they develop what some
Haians call 'book-hunger' since it is a kind of addiction. It is an
addiction to freedom and free thinking.
Censors are there to try
and kill this expansive way of thinking and feeling. They are there
to make ideas dull and small and boring. If they can bore you, they
can make you blind to beautiful thoughts.
Tyrants, Slavemasters,
Owners of all kinds do not want their chattel to read. If people
want to read, if they want to write, they become what all kinds of
Despots fear and hate. They think, so they become 'unruly' and ask
questions.
Dyers, as an Arkan
subculture, are the embodiment of free thinking, poetry, and
rebellion. They first read and then they began declaiming what they
read at the tops of their lungs.
Those who would own
people, first try to own their minds and their thoughts. If they can
stop them reading, they will get a mob that can be swayed by rhetoric
and spoon-fed lies. Readers vote and vote well.
Read. And be prepared to
speak if necessary, because rebellion is necessary when tyranny
raises its ugly head.
Better to have people who read and think who ask
questions than dull, mindless people who accept shen as their proper
food.
It is very good to see you again, Minis. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your rebel literature.
ReplyDelete