[This was an attempt at "postmodern" writing for a class a couple years ago. I do not recall just how well it was received, but it made fun writing.]
There was once an Emperor in a distant land who loved new things. New foods, new clothes, new television programs, new sports. He loved new things so much that he taxed the people mercilessly in order to fund his passions and accumulated outrageous dept on the international market.
Now the Emperor’s greed for new things had the curious result of causing jealousy of others’ possessions. Thus, the Emperor took steps to own all that was new in his kingdom, even if it meant stealing via dodgy court proceedings. In one instance, he stole an experimental olive grove owned by a wealthy merchant, thereby sending the honest man into bankruptcy while posting bail. Another time, the Emperor’s eye fell upon the beautiful wife of his own superintendent, so the Emperor had the honest man offed and took in the grief-stricken widow.
But theft at home was not enough, so the Emperor also tried his hand at cheating the international market. He pulled off several daring heists that gained him rich fisheries formerly owned by a distant ally, and the grain fields of his neighbors eventually came into his possession. Everyone knew who was responsible for the losses. But they dared not anger the Emperor, for he was a powerful monarch.
It happened that a rich ambassador came to the Emperor’s palace one day, who was from a land even farther away from the cheated ally. This country was very rich and very powerful and was exporter of the very best satellite TVs on the market. The Emperor was delighted to see the ambassador and entertained him lavishly with a wonderful feast of experimental olives and delicious fish on organic grain bread, and entertained him via conversation with his beautiful new wife, all in the hopes of opening a trade deal. But when the time came for negotiations, the ambassador only smiled and replied that his country was not interested in trade, but had sent him to discuss the Emperor’s human rights abuses. Enraged, the Emperor had the ambassador imprisoned, beaten, and held ransom for the price of two-dozen high-definition plasma-screen TVs, with accompanying entertainment systems. The distant country’s President only frowned and shook his head, offering the Emperor three chances to free his ambassador, while passing an embargo on all televisions to that kingdom. When the Emperor demanded an HDTV for the third time, the President declared a police action, despite international calls for peace talks.
The Emperor became worried. While he was powerful enough in his own country, the distant land with its HDTVs and its President was more powerful by far. The Emperor hastily called a draft and sent a delegation to his ally, requesting aid. Yet even with drafted soldiers and allied help, the Emperor knew that the war would be bloody.
Suddenly, two young men appeared in the Emperor’s court. They were famous inventors and arms dealers, and promised to build for the Emperor a new weapon unlike anything the enemy could produce. Intrigued, the Emperor inquired as to what they had in mind.
“Only lend us all your tanks and missiles and airplanes,” responded the elder of the two, “and we will build you a weapon unlike anything on Earth!”
The Emperor was pleased with the offer – a weapon unlike any on Earth, and new! – so he called his generals and advisors and ordered them to provide the young men with all the military resources in the kingdom. The inventors took the weapons and tanks into a tremendous warehouse and closed the doors to begin work.
A week passed and nothing was produced. The powerful far away country was mobilizing its armies. The Emperor became worried, so he sent his chiefs of staff to check on the progress of the new weapon. They returned smiling, saying that the work was splendid and was coming along nicely. Pleased, the Emperor waited.
Two weeks passed and the distant country was shipping out its soldiers on great boats as the soldiers’ wives and children waved goodbye with patriotic flags in their hands and patriotic songs upon their lips. Nothing had been heard from the warehouse so the worried Emperor sent his chamberlain to see what was keeping the inventors. The chamberlain returned smiling, saying that progress was being made and that the new weapon was looking splendid, not to worry. Nervously, the Emperor waited.
Three weeks passed with no word from the warehouse, while the forces of the distant country landed their ships near the kingdom’s borders. Terrified and frustrated, the Emperor demanded to know what was keeping the inventors and marched down to the warehouse himself to see the new weapon. The inventors smiled when they saw their patron approaching and bowed low, bidding him enter. And what did the Emperor see once his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light?
Nothing.
There was nothing at all in the warehouse; the tables were clean, the shelves were swept, and the floor completely bare. Alarmed, the Emperor demanded to know where was his new weapon – and to were the old ones had got to, for that matter – but the elder inventor took him gently by the shoulder with a perplexed look and said, gesturing up in to the empty space of the warehouse, “This is your weapon.”
The Emperor was himself very perplexed but the inventors strutted and scurried about, stepping carefully so as not to trip upon imaginary ropes and cables. They explained how the weapon’s various parts worked, the rationale behind design features, and proudly called attention to certain aesthetic details that they had included for personal fulfillment. The Emperor was by now extremely concerned, but when he looked to his generals and cabinet members, they all crossed their arms and nodded soberly and congratulated the inventors on a job superbly done. Though a little disturbed, the Emperor became convinced that he was simply being too narrow-minded and old fashioned to see the magnificent and sophisticated creation so he joined in the stern adulation and ordered the weapon to the warfront immediately.
The next day, after all necessary preparations had been made, the Emperor went with his royal retinue to the warehouse to fetch the new weapon. The streets were thronged with the citizen of the kingdom, as the king had issued a royal decree, commanding that a grand parade would see off the new weapon to the battlefield. As the Emperor was preparing to march from the warehouse, the imaginary weapon affixed to a tremendous flatbed trailer to be pulled by the only remaining army vehicle, the younger inventor approached him.
“Take this,” he said, and produced an official looking box with a matching key. “When you are ready to use the weapon, open this box, but no sooner.”
The Emperor thanked the young man gravely and tucked the little box under his arm.
Outside, the imperial jeep was waiting and the emperor stepped sedately up and sat up straight in the back seat, where all the people could see him and the glittering medals and badges attached to his uniform as he drove in front of the army procession. At the Emperor’s signal the jeep pulled out of the warehouse and the vehicle with the flatbed in tow heaved into motion behind. The crowds cheered wildly as the Emperor emerged but fell silent when they saw the empty flatbed, loaded only with loose ropes arranged as though they were holding something. No one dared to speak as the jeep and flatbed rumbled by, until a little boy who knew no better pointed at the pile of ropes and said, “Why, there is nothing in the trailer!” At once the crowd began to murmur and the Emperor grew very nervous indeed, but he persevered until the jeep left the city gates. None too soon, for the dust clouds of the approaching enemy were gathering on the horizon. With an uncomfortable lump in his stomach, the Emperor fumbled with the key and unlocked the box, ready to unleash all the horrors of his imperial might upon the foe. But inside were nothing but a note and a pile of receipts for the purchase of tanks, missiles, and airplanes from the Emperor’s cheated neighbors. The note read, “For our honest fathers,” and it was signed by the inventors with this postscript: “Your ally wishes you the very best of luck.”
