Once upon a time, on no particular morning, on no particular day, in no particular week, in no particular month, on no particular year, in no particular millennium, in no particular country, in no particular state, in no particular city, in no particular suburb and certainly in no particular mansion, a king awoke. He had everything he could possibly think of, and was loved by all his subjects. He was kind, he was humble, he was clean and he was practical. He was a genius and he was a learner, he was a philosopher and he was a mathematician, he was a realist and he was a surrealist, he was contradictory and he was non-contradictory. But most of all, he was a lover. He loved art and he loved nature, he loved science and he loved logic, he loved fact and he loved fiction, he loved the mind and he loved the soul.
On this no particular morning, the king spoke into a small microphone on his bedside table and kindly requested three warm pancakes with maple syrup. Within five minutes, his order was ready and presented to him on a platter that spanned his lap. He ate his breakfast with absolute bliss. Once the platter had been cleared away, he sat up and hopped into his wheelchair, which was always conveniently placed near his bed each evening. He guided himself towards the wardrobe and selected a very common and casual shirt and a very common and casual pair of trousers; two of the very limited number of items of clothing he had within his wardrobe. After attending to the minor issues that cropped up from political advisors and informants, he decided to take a stroll around the city.
As he rolled by the many shops and windows and pedestrians he passed, all the tenants and faces lit up with his presence, and said hello, and hi-fived with him from time to time. He passed through a lovely park filled with trees with lovely orange leaves, and birds singing to their heart's content, and small mammals scurrying around and up and along the trunks. Dogs wagged their tails at his passing, and barked with joy when he said hello back. The sky was grey with clouds, but the ground was lit as if the sun was fully out. He stopped by his son's house, which was rather less extravagant than his own, and knocked on the door and waited for a reply. The son opened the door and invited his father in, but he refused and invited the son to join his little walk, claiming it would lighten his heart even more.
The two stopped for coffee in a common coffee shop, and enjoyed a muffin each with a side order of a medium-sized mug of hot chocolate - a delicacy dating to when the son was around about the size of a fire hydrant. The father and the son stayed in there for a good few hours, discussing how good things had been both within and without the kingdom, and what would happen in the future, and saying thank you to those who served their table. Some of the other customers bowed as soon as they entered and exited the shop, much to the king's displeasure. When the two had had their fill, they paid the bill and left the area, back to their homes from whence they came.
Midday, the leader of a neighbouring country came to the palace simply to keep in touch with an old friend. The king and the leader ate and laughed and chuckled and discussed and laughed some more until it reached evening.
Come time to go to bed, the king redressed into his pyjamas and pulled himself out of his wheelchair. He sat on his bed for a good few hours, reading a book he had read during his childhood, and had since forgotten the storyline. When his eyes grew heavy, he put the book away and thought about the world, and his long departed wife, his son, and how happy everyone was. Then he spoke into the microphone on his bedside table, and requested euthanasia.
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If you are confused about the end, it's supposed to question euthanasia. What this story was supposed to do was ask you, if someone so well loved and respected and admired was to request death, would you let him?
In this case, the king is the happiest he has ever been in a long time, and he doesn't want to see the world change any more for better or for worse. He wants to remember the world as the day was; happy and peaceful. And now that he is growing old, it's his time anyway.Once upon a time, on no particular morning, on no particular day, in no particular week, in no particular month, on no particular year, in no particular millennium, in no particular country, in no particular state, in no particular city, in no particular suburb and certainly in no particular mansion, a king awoke. He had everything he could possibly think of, and was loved by all his subjects. He was kind, he was humble, he was clean and he was practical. He was a genius and he was a learner, he was a philosopher and he was a mathematician, he was a realist and he was a surrealist, he was contradictory and he was non-contradictory. But most of all, he was a lover. He loved art and he loved nature, he loved science and he loved logic, he loved fact and he loved fiction, he loved the mind and he loved the soul.
On this no particular morning, the king spoke into a small microphone on his bedside table and kindly requested three warm pancakes with maple syrup. Within five minutes, his order was ready and presented to him on a platter that spanned his lap. He ate his breakfast with absolute bliss. Once the platter had been cleared away, he sat up and hopped into his wheelchair, which was always conveniently placed near his bed each evening. He guided himself towards the wardrobe and selected a very common and casual shirt and a very common and casual pair of trousers; two of the very limited number of items of clothing he had within his wardrobe. After attending to the minor issues that cropped up from political advisors and informants, he decided to take a stroll around the city.
As he rolled by the many shops and windows and pedestrians he passed, all the tenants and faces lit up with his presence, and said hello, and hi-fived with him from time to time. He passed through a lovely park filled with trees with lovely orange leaves, and birds singing to their heart's content, and small mammals scurrying around and up and along the trunks. Dogs wagged their tails at his passing, and barked with joy when he said hello back. The sky was grey with clouds, but the ground was lit as if the sun was fully out. He stopped by his son's house, which was rather less extravagant than his own, and knocked on the door and waited for a reply. The son opened the door and invited his father in, but he refused and invited the son to join his little walk, claiming it would lighten his heart even more.
The two stopped for coffee in a common coffee shop, and enjoyed a muffin each with a side order of a medium-sized mug of hot chocolate - a delicacy dating to when the son was around about the size of a fire hydrant. The father and the son stayed in there for a good few hours, discussing how good things had been both within and without the kingdom, and what would happen in the future, and saying thank you to those who served their table. Some of the other customers bowed as soon as they entered and exited the shop, much to the king's displeasure. When the two had had their fill, they paid the bill and left the area, back to their homes from whence they came.
Midday, the leader of a neighbouring country came to the palace simply to keep in touch with an old friend. The king and the leader ate and laughed and chuckled and discussed and laughed some more until it reached evening.
Come time to go to bed, the king redressed into his pyjamas and pulled himself out of his wheelchair. He sat on his bed for a good few hours, reading a book he had read during his childhood, and had since forgotten the storyline. When his eyes grew heavy, he put the book away and thought about the world, and his long departed wife, his son, and how happy everyone was. Then he spoke into the microphone on his bedside table, and requested euthanasia.
***********************************************************
If you are confused about the end, it's supposed to question euthanasia. What this story was supposed to do was ask you, if someone so well loved and respected and admired was to request death, would you let him?
In this case, the king is the happiest he has ever been in a long time, and he doesn't want to see the world change any more for better or for worse. He wants to remember the world as the day was; happy and peaceful. And now that he is growing old, it's his time anyway.
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