"But will Rege listen to us? Why are. we turning back when we should
be going forward? If weў"
"We have to establishў"
"No! We have to act! Freedom can be established only in the moment
of freedomў"
They were all shouting at once in their hoarse, worn-out voices. They
had all been talking and listening and drinking bad coffee and living for days,
for weeks, on love. Yes, on love; these are loversт quarrels. It is for love that
he pleads, it is for love that she rages. It was always for love. Thatтs why the
camera snout came poking and sucking into this dirty basement room where
the lovers meet. It craves love, the sight of love; for if you canтt have the real
thing, you can watch it on TV, and soon you donтt know the real thing from the
images on the little screen where everything, as he said, can be done in two
seconds. But the lovers know the difference.
This is a fairy tale, and you know that in the fairy tale, after it says
that they lived happily ever after, there is no after. The evil enchantment was
broken; the good servant received half the kingdom as his reward; the king
ruled long and well. Remember the moment when the betrayal is made, and
ask no questions. Do not ask if the poisoned fields grew white again with
grain. Do not ask if the leaves of the forests grew green that spring. Do not
ask what the maiden received as her reward. Remember the tale of Koshchey
the Deathless, whose life was in a needle, and the needle was in an egg, and
the egg was in a swan, and the swan was in an eagle, and the eagle was in a
wolf, and the wolf was in the palace whose walls were built of the stones of
power. Enchantment within enchantment! We are a long way from the egg
that holds the needle that must be broken so Koshchey the Deathless can die.
And so the tale ends. Thousands and thousands of people stood on the
slanting pavement before the palace. Snow sparkled in the air, and the people
sang. You know the song, that old song with words like land, love, free, in the
language you have known the longest. Its words make stone part from stone,
its words prevent tanks, its words transform the world, when it is sung at the
right time by the right people, after enough people have died for singing it.
A thousand doors opened in the walls of the palace. The soldiers laid
down then- arms and sang. The evil enchantment was broken. The good king
returned to his kingdom, and the people danced for joy on the stones of the
city streets.
And we do not ask what happened after. But we can tell the story
over, we can tell the story till we get it right.
"My daughterтs on the Committee of the Student Action Council," said
Stefan Fabbre to his neighbor Florens Aske as they stood in a line outside the
bakery on Pradinestrade. His tone of voice was complicated.
I know. Erreskar saw her on the television," Aske said.
