NO GOOD DEED WILL GO UNPUNISHED (September 29, 1989)

Among the many enchanting tales about emperor Khah’s reign, perhaps the most enchanting is the one about the ultimate disappointment of his attempts to construct an engine which could take him to the Moon. It is said that he had been convinced since boyhood that such a journey was within his reach, as he conceived of the Moon as an object lighter than air. He thought it floated in a manner similar to a hot air balloon.

Of course, all the emperor’s devices, as well as those devised by his industrious assistants, failed one after another to gratify his dream: the tall ladders and towers toppled over, the winged engines plummeted into the sea, the heavy catapults crashed under their own weight, and the paper balloons of many colors floated away aimlessly. By and by, the emperor dismissed the motley crew he had so carefully assembled to help him in the pursuit of his dream. Although emperor Khah never abandoned it, his pet project gradually lost some of its luster. Loathing the spreading ridicule among the courtiers, he discussed it with his closest retainers only.

Many years passed in quiet study and experimentation, and the emperor’s age began to weigh upon him ever more visibly. He devoted more and more of his time to his journey to the Moon and to poetry, of which he was also very fond, letting his three sons share the major duties of his office. And then, quite unexpectedly, a wise man appeared in court and requested to be presented to the emperor. He said he had something important regarding emperor Khah’s wish to go to the Moon. He claimed that he knew why the emperor’s attempts had been so unsuccessful hitherto. Emperor Khah received the man at once, his old flame rekindled and his eyes ablaze. However, the sage argued that the Moon was, in fact, unreachable, as it was separated from the Earth not only by an enormous distance unfit for travel, but also because there was no air there. His words were many and very elaborate, but this was the gist of his account for the emperor’s plight.

Emperor Khah retired to his quarters with but a few words for the man. He somberly promised to consider by the next morning the most appropriate gift for the discovery so well-conceived and so ably expounded. It came as little surprise that the man was executed before dawn; what was most surprising was that emperor Khah announced his abdication and retirement to a monastery immediately after the execution. According to the imperial records, he had not spoken a single word ever again. He died in the monastery at the ripe age of ninety-nine.