How to Stand While the World Falls Down
Advice for transmuting a disaster
1. A parable, or something
When you first notice the cracks, you don’t see anything extraordinary. Walls crack sometimes. That’s how things go.
When the first brick falls, you call it an anomaly. You say, that brick was rotten anyway. It alone is at fault for its failure.
When it hits the ground, it shatters like a mirror. It reflects like one, too.
You look away.
When the next brick falls, you say the same again, but your voice is not quite so firm this time.
By the fourth and the fifth, you panic. You look around like a wild dog caged. Who is tearing the walls down? You see them, over there, pulling bricks. It isn’t the bricks at fault; it’s those hooligans. Those idiots. Those wicked, guilty ones. You see them and you hate them. They are rotten anyway. They alone are at fault for this failure.
When the bricks begin to fall on them, you laugh the laugh of justice served.
When the bricks begin to fall on you, all your laughter stops.
Who is the architect of this room? They’ve built it wrong. It’s evil. No wall is meant to crack, not when you’re under it. Whose room is this…
