(no subject)
I was going to write something deep and coherent, about hypnotism, the great ether, randomness, and how human society has become so complex, but, eh, it's too hot. Or something. You know, it's been super windy here. Why. I mean really, wind? I would expect that in the last place that I lived, but out here? Where's there's nothing, no mountains, no foothills, just flat land with some patches that are vaguely like marshes. There are some real marshes about ten miles away, and those look almost like the glades in Florida.
Oh, and I think I got a job for my friend working in the same place I do. She just has to do well in her interview, but my boss said that my friend is the "kind of person I'd like to hire".
The summary: Sverige gir Norge en gave.
Sweden's been keeping busy these days. The work of a country is quite a load, everything from attending meetings, to conducting foreign policy, to trying to stay neutral. All the obligations and duties his government has, he has too; unlike some other countries, he doesn't excuse himself from what he knows he should be doing, doesn't let anything that he could do remain undone.
Because he's got such an unshakable sense of responsibility, he spends time on all kinds of things he could have someone else do for him. They're menial, easy tasks, things like painting and gardening and chopping wood, the things any labourer could do. Perhaps Sweden could hire a human. Not a politician, but a person who isn't so personally invested in his country. A disgruntled farmer's daughter, perhaps.
Or maybe, if he was more practical and cruel, he'd have Norway do these things for him. As it is, though, you'd hardly guess that the two of them are in a union as the United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway (which is better than Sweden-Norway).
Sweden hardly visits Norway anymore. Partially, Sweden's government is just too concerned with its own affairs. Another reason: Norway's government, static as it is, is quite functional, and the whole of its body doesn't want to run away from Sweden. Pro-Unionists-those sick of Danish anything-existed well before the union.
Even if Norway isn't completely co-operative-which would make things so much easier-he'd never be able to effectively revolt. Break-aways and revolutions are the business of seriously discontented people who have power to push their purpose. The majority of his people are non-violent-and anyway this union, neutral by Sweden's foreign policy, has avoided participation in any of the wars and revolutions that have torn apart the continent. Conflicts which have stripped Denmark of his lower lands. Conflicts which, if England and the other powers had not stepped into, could have destroyed him altogether.(i)
But if they don't talk often, they're still a union. So they do visit each other, sporadically. Usually it's Norway who has to come to Sweden, going with people of his government when they go to meet with a Swedish council and their king. On these visits, Norway stays at Sweden's house. It cuts down on costs.
So, Norway is sitting in Sweden's dining room to work on paperwork. It's a large room, with windows of a size generous enough to let in enough milky afternoon light to see decently by. He's not one to ever show that he's tired, but as he pauses to dip his antiquated quill in a near-empty inkwell, he takes a second longer than he should to let the extra ink drip off the tip.
He watches a drop-two drops-and wonders if perhaps he should grab another inkwell now. He decides to wait; he'll get it when he lights lamps for the evening.
And then Sweden walks in. Norway leans over the table and begins to read again while Sweden walks right up to the table, stopping to set something down on the surface with a soft thump. Unacknowledged (but not ignored, ever), Sweden waits. The smaller country continues to read until Sweden finally says:
"Though y'u'd like it."
Only then does Norway raise his head and gaze at what has been placed before him. A jar, with a green cocoon in it, of a species that he recognises from his own home. Inside that green structure is a yellow swallowtail. Encased in glass and sealed with wax, it looks like some kind of scientific display. If Norway didn't know any better, he wouldn't know that there was a butterfly growing somewhere in there; he would imagine some kind of gross little spirit festering.
Norway taps the gift with his pen. "I've got those at home, you," Norway says as he looks down again at his work.
"Found it last year, 'fore w'nter snow," Sweden answers, pushing the jar closer as he takes a step away, gravitating towards the door.
For a moment, Norway can imagine it. Sweden out and about, tying up loose ends well before the last minute. Coming across the cocoon, silent but staring at it like it presented some kind of danger. Eventually Sweden must have come up with a solution-put in a jar until it's given to Norway as a small gesture of good will.
"Don't you have something else to attend to?"
"T'ke it 'ome," Sweden says as he leaves the room.
"Not much of a butterfly keeper." Norway doesn't bother looking up. But, when he's finished with his work, he takes the jar out with him.
x
Near the end of springtime, Norway gets a letter from Sweden. Its author is Sweden's-and Norway's-king; the letter tells Norway to calm down. No-one is trying to undercut Norway's authority because both Sweden and Norway and equal under the union. As for dealing with the outside world, Sweden's got that covered because Sweden can and will take care of that for Norway. Norway, who has tried to be diplomatic even with Russia.
When he's done reading the letter a fifth time, Norway sets it down on his desk and stares at it. Even if there's no-one else in the room to hide his reaction from, his expression is blank now; his anger, a quick flash in his eyes, has already past.
Though his resentment will linger, buried somewhere because it's not something he dwells on. A lump in his chest that will continue to grow. That will express itself in everything he does from now on. A mild thing, not a scalding one, but it's still there.
"I see," Norway says to the empty room.
Of course, he would never be violent.
x
That night Norway remembers that Sweden gave him a gift. When Norway goes to find it, he finds that the cocoon has already begun to hatch.
Norway pauses for a moment, watching the stress lines grow. Not to marvel, because he's seen this before, but just to see it. The struggle, the breaking free, the emergence of the thick body and the imminent unveiling of bright yellow wings.
But that's a problem: he's thought too late. Before Norway can get the swallowtail out of the jar its wings are already unfurling. So the butterfly tries to stretch it's wings, getting as far as the glass walls.
The butterfly squirms and writhes and shifts its stubby body, unable to turn around. Its wings begin to harden. By now it's too late to save it, and within seconds its wings are shaped forever in a bizarre, half-in-flight tangle. Ruined forever.
When Norway finally gets the butterfly out of the jar, he lets it shambol on his windowsill as a late spring rain beats against the pane. He lets the butterfly crawl onto his hand and spares a glance out the window at the rain-drenched twilight. The world is a deep-water green, the last colour you see before you drown.
i - Schleswig-Holstein wars (1848-1851; 1864?). Basically Prussia trying to get back German land that had become Danish. By succession, the king of Denmark was the duke of the duchies. However, the king had only daughters; the throne of Denmark could pass to a female heir, but the duchies could not. Denmark started the first war, Prussia and Austria the second, Stuff got out of hand, and the European Powers, mainly England, had to step in to end the second war. Resulted in the London Protocols (1852), which stated Denmark had a right to exist, and should exist, as an integral part of Europe.
Oh, and I think I got a job for my friend working in the same place I do. She just has to do well in her interview, but my boss said that my friend is the "kind of person I'd like to hire".
The summary: Sverige gir Norge en gave.
Sweden's been keeping busy these days. The work of a country is quite a load, everything from attending meetings, to conducting foreign policy, to trying to stay neutral. All the obligations and duties his government has, he has too; unlike some other countries, he doesn't excuse himself from what he knows he should be doing, doesn't let anything that he could do remain undone.
Because he's got such an unshakable sense of responsibility, he spends time on all kinds of things he could have someone else do for him. They're menial, easy tasks, things like painting and gardening and chopping wood, the things any labourer could do. Perhaps Sweden could hire a human. Not a politician, but a person who isn't so personally invested in his country. A disgruntled farmer's daughter, perhaps.
Or maybe, if he was more practical and cruel, he'd have Norway do these things for him. As it is, though, you'd hardly guess that the two of them are in a union as the United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway (which is better than Sweden-Norway).
Sweden hardly visits Norway anymore. Partially, Sweden's government is just too concerned with its own affairs. Another reason: Norway's government, static as it is, is quite functional, and the whole of its body doesn't want to run away from Sweden. Pro-Unionists-those sick of Danish anything-existed well before the union.
Even if Norway isn't completely co-operative-which would make things so much easier-he'd never be able to effectively revolt. Break-aways and revolutions are the business of seriously discontented people who have power to push their purpose. The majority of his people are non-violent-and anyway this union, neutral by Sweden's foreign policy, has avoided participation in any of the wars and revolutions that have torn apart the continent. Conflicts which have stripped Denmark of his lower lands. Conflicts which, if England and the other powers had not stepped into, could have destroyed him altogether.(i)
But if they don't talk often, they're still a union. So they do visit each other, sporadically. Usually it's Norway who has to come to Sweden, going with people of his government when they go to meet with a Swedish council and their king. On these visits, Norway stays at Sweden's house. It cuts down on costs.
So, Norway is sitting in Sweden's dining room to work on paperwork. It's a large room, with windows of a size generous enough to let in enough milky afternoon light to see decently by. He's not one to ever show that he's tired, but as he pauses to dip his antiquated quill in a near-empty inkwell, he takes a second longer than he should to let the extra ink drip off the tip.
He watches a drop-two drops-and wonders if perhaps he should grab another inkwell now. He decides to wait; he'll get it when he lights lamps for the evening.
And then Sweden walks in. Norway leans over the table and begins to read again while Sweden walks right up to the table, stopping to set something down on the surface with a soft thump. Unacknowledged (but not ignored, ever), Sweden waits. The smaller country continues to read until Sweden finally says:
"Though y'u'd like it."
Only then does Norway raise his head and gaze at what has been placed before him. A jar, with a green cocoon in it, of a species that he recognises from his own home. Inside that green structure is a yellow swallowtail. Encased in glass and sealed with wax, it looks like some kind of scientific display. If Norway didn't know any better, he wouldn't know that there was a butterfly growing somewhere in there; he would imagine some kind of gross little spirit festering.
Norway taps the gift with his pen. "I've got those at home, you," Norway says as he looks down again at his work.
"Found it last year, 'fore w'nter snow," Sweden answers, pushing the jar closer as he takes a step away, gravitating towards the door.
For a moment, Norway can imagine it. Sweden out and about, tying up loose ends well before the last minute. Coming across the cocoon, silent but staring at it like it presented some kind of danger. Eventually Sweden must have come up with a solution-put in a jar until it's given to Norway as a small gesture of good will.
"Don't you have something else to attend to?"
"T'ke it 'ome," Sweden says as he leaves the room.
"Not much of a butterfly keeper." Norway doesn't bother looking up. But, when he's finished with his work, he takes the jar out with him.
x
Near the end of springtime, Norway gets a letter from Sweden. Its author is Sweden's-and Norway's-king; the letter tells Norway to calm down. No-one is trying to undercut Norway's authority because both Sweden and Norway and equal under the union. As for dealing with the outside world, Sweden's got that covered because Sweden can and will take care of that for Norway. Norway, who has tried to be diplomatic even with Russia.
When he's done reading the letter a fifth time, Norway sets it down on his desk and stares at it. Even if there's no-one else in the room to hide his reaction from, his expression is blank now; his anger, a quick flash in his eyes, has already past.
Though his resentment will linger, buried somewhere because it's not something he dwells on. A lump in his chest that will continue to grow. That will express itself in everything he does from now on. A mild thing, not a scalding one, but it's still there.
"I see," Norway says to the empty room.
Of course, he would never be violent.
x
That night Norway remembers that Sweden gave him a gift. When Norway goes to find it, he finds that the cocoon has already begun to hatch.
Norway pauses for a moment, watching the stress lines grow. Not to marvel, because he's seen this before, but just to see it. The struggle, the breaking free, the emergence of the thick body and the imminent unveiling of bright yellow wings.
But that's a problem: he's thought too late. Before Norway can get the swallowtail out of the jar its wings are already unfurling. So the butterfly tries to stretch it's wings, getting as far as the glass walls.
The butterfly squirms and writhes and shifts its stubby body, unable to turn around. Its wings begin to harden. By now it's too late to save it, and within seconds its wings are shaped forever in a bizarre, half-in-flight tangle. Ruined forever.
When Norway finally gets the butterfly out of the jar, he lets it shambol on his windowsill as a late spring rain beats against the pane. He lets the butterfly crawl onto his hand and spares a glance out the window at the rain-drenched twilight. The world is a deep-water green, the last colour you see before you drown.
i - Schleswig-Holstein wars (1848-1851; 1864?). Basically Prussia trying to get back German land that had become Danish. By succession, the king of Denmark was the duke of the duchies. However, the king had only daughters; the throne of Denmark could pass to a female heir, but the duchies could not. Denmark started the first war, Prussia and Austria the second, Stuff got out of hand, and the European Powers, mainly England, had to step in to end the second war. Resulted in the London Protocols (1852), which stated Denmark had a right to exist, and should exist, as an integral part of Europe.