The End Of Nonfiction

It was the reign of King Quinquux, some two hundred years before the discovery of Before. The King was considered good though somewhat eccentric, the latter quality more endearing than threatening to his fellow Formen, but in his later years some of his acts were so daring as for the citizens to doubt the wisdom of their Good King. His most celebrated act was and remains the End Of Nonfiction Act in which the King declared that since nothing created by Man was entirely perfect then it stood to reason that no work of nonfiction could itself be entirely true. Since a work of nonfiction can contain nothing but truth it then follows that no work is nonfiction, so all is fiction. Any empty distinction being without utility, the Good King declared an end to both categories, of fiction and nonfiction, and to let the works stand or fall on their own merits. That was all. While presenting the case to the populace, advisers to His Majesty noted that such a practice would encourage the Formen to think for themselves and hence strengthen the minds of the people. “We Foremen can stand on our own feet and determine that which is true or no for ourselves,”. spoke Junior Adviser Lucasin Lue, “We as a people have never been ones to cede authority to writing. Our Good King trusts to the canny judgment and native wisdom of his fellow Formen. Let many flowers bloom.” Nevertheless there was some concern amongst the good folk of Before. Many felt or thought that while the author of nonfiction might well be in error at least he or she has pledged to do his or her best and not pull the wool over the eyes of the reader. Others pointed out cases in which authorities had been mistaken or possibly even deliberately misleading, said that fiction could at times prove closer to the truth, and declared their support for the decree. So it was in a spirit of uncertainty that the people moved to follow the command of their King.



Nevertheless as always the Formen did their best to follow both the spirit and letter of the King’s decree. After all, the new course is best entered into wholeheartedly and with courage, otherwise how could one ever know whether this was a good decree or no? An issue muddled by sabotage or malingering might never be resolved and could drag on indefinitely. The books in stores and libraries were resorted without the ancient categories. Schools decided that if a student could give a lucid argument supporting his or her case then any answer would be considered correct. The Before Morning abolished the editorial page and mingled such with the other news and comical works. While the recipe section remained it was on occasion infiltrated with absurd concoctions to keep cooks on their toes. Some authors attempted to evade the restriction by prefacing their works with solemn affirmations of the truth and accuracy of the contents but this subterfuge was sabotaged by patriots who prepended such prefaces to works of pure imagination, cunningly disguised as fact.. Others muddied the waters through publication of collections of little-known facts so preposterous as to defy belief. As the game grew more subtle a book of fact could be disguised as a work of fiction that in turn appeared to have been draped clumsily in an unconvincing similitude of truth. Some Formen grew increasingly uneasy as it appeared the past might grow lost in a labyrinth of alternatives while others became stimulated and rallied under the flag of Confusion. “Keeps us on our toes,” said the Confusionists. Though there remained considerable trepidation on such a course things seemed to accelerate. Perhaps the national mood was best summed up by a drayman of Brill met by chance in a wayhouse, who said “While Confusion has its drawbacks, it beats being bored.”.



The anti-Confusionists contrived that the houses that had always published nonfiction would continue as before the decree, with a new sprinkling of clearly jocular and satirical works and the insertion of a minor falsehood or two in each otherwise factual work. The Confusionists retaliated, usually by larding a number of whoppers into scholarly works that were largely truthful, thus duping the publishers into accepting works of fiction as fact. Since it was impractical to check all statements in, say, a study of butterflies, eventually there was no feeling of certainty of anything and the full effect of the King’s will began to be felt. This was the moment of greatest uncertainty, when it was realized that fact and history truly could be lost. There was some attempt to resort to books of nonfiction published before the End Of Nonfiction Act but sadly it was recognized that such books had grown out of date and hence too not entirely trustworthy. It is whispered that there were weighty meetings of the Advisers To The Throne and they in their concern requested a meeting with King Quinquux but were refused. “All is going according to plan. Fulfill your functions as instructed,” His Royal Majesty is said to have stated.



In the schools it was decided that new texts from new publishing houses should be given the same weight as the old. It seemed clear that this was the intent of the King. A true concern grew amongst parents. Would there be nothing, nothing at all save the songs and dances on which all Formen could meet and agree? Would all be debatable, all negotiable, all at sixes and sevens and forever up in the air? Something must be done. But the King remained silent, all continued apace, and after many years it was realized that no one was truly sure what was true or not and nothing could any longer be done about this.



This lead to the now-celebrated Two-Hundred-And-Fifty-Sixth Gathering O’ Educators. After much talk it was solemnly agreed that truth had been lost and could not be recovered. Many allowed that perhaps the King was right and they had never truly held truth in their hand in the first place, but the thrust was that for better or worse there was no turning back and the only course now was forward. There was some discussion of assignment of a percentagewise truth measure with a maximum of 99%, but the Confusionists would simply assign ratings of 99% to their own works and no one would be better off, and if there were some central bureau of truthfulness pledged to an accurate rating then it would take forever for anything controversial to be published. The idea was dropped as unworkable. What to do?



It has been recorded that the turning point of the conference was a proposal by one Mimsyanne K’Lil, a librarian and elementary school teacher of the port city of Brillton. Said she, “It seems to me that the time for learned and academic debate is past. We teachers must teach our children as best we can today. The truth has been lost and so cannot be taught. To let each teacher choose truth for himself will lead to even more debate than we now have in Before,” and there was nodding and murmuring. “Though there is no danger that Formen shall ever agree on everything,” and there was even more nodding and murmuring and even a few loud Hmmmrs, “our children must have a basic common language. There is too much confusion and we must have some relief.” Silence. Mimsyanne K’Lil pushed bravely on. “If we cannot teach our children truth, then let us teach what we in our alleged wisdom as adults think and feel is best for our young ones. If it cannot be taught as truth, let us tell the students what surely is the truth, that though everything we tell them may not be true, we teach so that they may live happy and effective lives. While we may not always be right we do the best we can because we love them.“ And with that Mimsyanne K’Lil sat down. There was a moment of silence, then a smattering of vigorous applause, then more than a smattering, then cheers, and as the applause grew a few educators took to their feet and then more until the almost all of the audience was standing. To this day most schools of Before that can afford such have a statue of Mimsyanne K’Lil at that entrance, with the words, “Munkhapas Rincha Nin Sunktakas Kroomchuh” [We may not always be right but always do the best that we can].



Thought this was not of course the last of debate – as they say, “Pantala Behfunkis nixna belamkis tantalina [When it comes to the last Forman he or she will contend with the trees]” – the new direction was clear and the crew pulled with a will to that port. After some years it was more or less agreed on what was most useful to the children while making sure the students knew it was not all true and that no one knew for certain what indeed was true. Nowadays King Quinquux is recalled as a steady hand on the tiller, and while a few still morn the death of truth, most feel education had been placed on a sounder and more practical foundation and so it has continued to this day. As for King Quinquux he was never known to comment further on the results of the End Of Nonfiction Act and so took his personal feelings, whatever they may have been, with him on the eternal journey home.

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