The Death of the Leviathan: a short story critiquing the state

The Death of the Leviathan: a short story critiquing the state

Samuel Bird

“You have to.”

“My family had a bad harvest this last year. We can’t spare the cow. She gives us all the milk we have.” 

“Straws were drawn. Your cow must be sacrificed to our great beast. Consider it an honor Richard.” 

“Let me ask you something Alexie, do you ever wonder about if this monster is so good after all?” Richard said in hushed tones and looking around the grass-roofed huts around them.

“Nonsense!” Alexie responded. The beast keeps us safe from the horrible village of Russar. The dragging of its tail carves our roads. The spoils of its hunts care for the poorest among us.”

“But, I wonder if there would be less poor if it didn’t take all we have. Today it eats my family’s cow and pushes us to the brink, but tomorrow perhaps the lot will land on you and if this happens too many days in a row, you then land in a position of need. We then have all the more reason to be dependant on what it brings us.”

“Without its great and just present, what would keep us villagers from turning on each other?”

“Alexie, it can’t see us from here. I could punch you square in the nose, but I don’t. I could make fun of you relentlessly and it trespasses no judgment of the beast, and yet I don’t. I think all the talk of how evil our kind can be to our neighbor is to get us to fear each other and then live out that fear by submitting.”

“How can you say this Richard? Do you question the great honor of your village Ussar? It has been your home, cared for you, and its people are your family.”

“I am not disloyal to my people. I do however wonder if this antiquated monster that looms over the village is one that we keep around because of habit, but is no longer bringing more good than it steals away.” 

“Even if we could survive without it, how would we take it down?”

“Well, we are the ones that feed it right?” 

“Right.”

“Then I think we have some power.”

Richard walked from the alleyway that ran between the shop huts and out the dirt road to his pasture. He walked up to a wood-beamed fence and rested his arms against it. He looked out at Gertrude. She was a good cow whose bloodline had been with his family for many years. Many good calves came from her. The last one, a heifer, he was now frustrated with himself that he didn’t keep her to replace Gertrude. However, times were difficult and he thought he could have one more good year of luck. It was not just his love for a cow that he was fretting about, but what it would do for his family. If this cow was gone, he could not assure that his family’s needs would be taken care of. While the village’s leviathan would share the spoils of its hunt with his family, he didn’t want to need it. And if it could share the spoils of its hunt, why did it not just hunt and eat what it got? Why did it demand more food when its great tail carved a road? Why did it win over a morsel in every transaction it was not a part of? Few villagers were critical of the leviathan. They would suggest that they feed it less so it could atrophy, but never did as the leviathan had the power and could penalize anyone that tried to withhold from it. Some would point to the system of lottery for whose animal was sacrificed or the fact that they could vote on what projects the leviathan did, as some evidence that the people had the power. Richard found that no matter who thought they controlled the beast, it was still powerful enough to do as it willed. He had an idea that seemed so obvious to him and yet so mad in the dogma of his land. His wife joined him by the side as he looked out over his security that was about to be lost. 

“We need to kill it.” He said, knowing she would understand the context from an obsession he shared late into the night. 

“Even if we could bring about our own liberty, we would lose our security.” 

“From what?”

“From each other. Who would make sure each transaction was watched over.” 

“Watched over, or capitalized on?”

“What about the leviathan from Russar? Without our beast, such a beast would kill us all.”

“Then all Leviathans must die. We slaughter them together.”

“And what if we seek to steal from each other and be unfair in our trade?”

“Then we quickly learn not to trade with that person who is unfair. It is a small village. We’ll quickly see who makes it worse, and we will know not to cooperate with them.”

“And what of our farm?”

“We keep it. We work and eat our work, but we and the people who aid it alone.”

“Who shall give to those that need?”

“You, and I, and Alexie and everyone. It is our work that feeds the beast and the energy it is given helps it hunt for their fill. We then could cut out the steps and share ourselves.”

“In times of little, how do we enforce that they will be given what they need?” 

“I don’t know. My plan doesn’t fix everything. It will cause new problems while ridding ourselves of old ones. I just have reason to believe the end result is more lives lived as they deem fit. What life must be or how it must be lived is unclear. Why then should the mind of a beast or the average of a crowd tell me how life must be lived? What we can do is more appropriately associate value with the labors that bring it about. Then, there is an incentive to create. In the absence of the beast, there will be the family. No longer will they be torn apart by dying in battle as it fights the enemy’s leviathan. No more does it give more kills to those that don’t help their own. You and I feed our children in their need and lack of ability, maybe too this will aid us in this new society.”

“You seek to usher in a utopia?”

“I am not saying that cakes will tower and smiles never falter, but what I can say is this will allow us to commit to the most honest convictions of our mind with no impedance.”

“Can you say our kind is good enough to trust with this?”

“Whether or not we use it well, and I have reason to believe we will, this aligns with our facthood. We are neither good nor evil, but striving. We fight to stay alive. This will bring a return to the liberty of our ancestors.”

“What if we and the world have grown apart.”

“Then we grow together again. When the inevitable mounts in the heart, questions of how why and when, and what will keep us from acting. This draconian beast of a year no longer has no role in the world we are in and opposes the world to come. Now is the time to act and see how the world responds.” 

“I do not condone this line of thinking.” Richard put his hand on her shoulders. 

“As you shouldn’t. You are committed to what seems good to you. All I ask is that you forgive me for what has not yet occurred.” She shed a tear as she nodded. 

Richard made his way from Ussar to Russar. Staying in the forest away from clearings so their beast could not see him, he went through the forest. Along the way, he found poison hemlock. He jotted down the location in his mind and went on his way. He snuck through their village and found their elders. He explained the same arguments he gave to his wife and Alexie. He was fearful of the risk but found they were more receptive than anyone he had spoken with in Ussar because their leviathan had demanded more of them and given less. As Richard listened to their story, he was horrified at the numbers of their own village who were killed by their own beast. It far exceeded any other deaths from battle. He told them where the hemlock was and his plan. Each village had a feeding for the beast that would happen at the same day. He told them, they should each do it then. He made his way home and picked the hemlock in bundles. As he carried it back, he realized that the other village now knew his intention. They could choose to not kill their leviathan and now that Ussar was defenseless, they could come and kill them all. Perhaps Richard should forgo his plans and perhaps even take out their village via the same means. He considered this theory of games and decided to trust and do what he saw of merit for its own sake. 

He put the halter around poor Gertrude for the last time. She was confused as they walked right past the spot in the shade where usually he milked her. He stopped up the road from their house and pulled out the poisonous plants. He put it in front of Gertrude’s nose before she ate it all up. He felt terrible to do this to such a loyal creature, but it was for a better cause. He led her into town, through the main street, and toward the beast. Ussar’s beast was like a giant lizard, but with a much thicker frame and short front arms. It had a single eye, horns on its head, and a tail that was split like a fish. It stood the height of many trees and had a tail that could wipe out a forest. As part of a dry bureaucratic ritual, a few people from the village were there, including all the elders. He tried to make his guilt and fear look like the anger from loss and the fear of the leviathan taking him as he led them toward it. Gertrude was nervous and had never walked on stairs, so he struggled to pull her toward the top of the wooden platform. Once she was finally at the top, the elders delivered their formulaic speech the same as they always did. 

“Greate beast of Ussar. Defender from Russar. Take this offering and seal with it our enemy's fate and our survival. Solve all our dilemmas and take what you need.” The elders then nodded to Richard as he walked down from the platform. He turned around to see Gertrude in her loyalty turning to follow him. Just then, the massive jaws of the beast came down open, closed, and rose up. Richard felt the betrayal he made but knew it was now the last. The leviathan chewed up the cow with ease and swallowed with one last gulp.

“Is this sufficient for you great beast?” The elders asked. The leviathan shook its head from side to side. 

“Do you require more food?” It nodded up and down. 

“Should we do a vote or lottery?” It shook its head and pointed at Richard with its tiny arms. His heart sank and he tried to reason. 

“Well, can I say goodbye to my family first?” The elders shook their heads as the officers grabbed him and pulled him up the platform. 

“Sit still, this is for a great cause.” Richard fought them as he disagreed. 

“Stop!” The elders yelled.

“If you don’t let him eat you, he has decreed that he will eat your family.” Richard quit fighting from the sacrifice and its meaning. He stood there wondering how long it would be before his toxic salvation would kick in. The beast lowered its head and scooped him up. He jumped in time to miss the teeth, and now was in its dark warm mouth. The beast's tongue would strike at him, but he would jump from side to side. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling roar came across the plains and stopped the beast from continuing. The cry rang out as the tail end of the sound came weaker until there was a thud that he felt. He smiled as he realized Russar was liberated. The beast continued swiping its tongue at him but was growing weaker. White foam came up from its throat just as the tongue finally grabbed him and pulled him toward its gullet. The last thing he sensed before being swallowed, was gravity’s change in the direction of its pull, as the beast began to tilt and fall.

My note: There is no doubt that you have an idea of what this story is about as I am not the best at subtlety. I am critical of a macro view of the human experience and find political philosophy to be the worst iteration. However, I think something can be said. You may wonder if I am asserting a perfect response to how the world should be ran. I am certainly saying I think the ideas have merit. I don’t however think that the world would fix all its concerns if my ideas came about. What I am rather saying is that I hope people will see my extremity of placement and wonder if they should slide my way. My middle name is Hobbs and so Hobbes the philosopher is someone I have wanted to like. I do however find the social contract theory imaginary and without instance, his view of human nature to be simplistic, and his view of the state as completing a job it can’t. I by no means think that what I do is certainly right. However, I do hope I have made you wonder if the way we have ran the world could be otherwise, and if that may serve our ends. 

Also, a six-year-old relative named William drew this picture. I think he did a good job.