Chapter 2: A Short History of the Planet Part 1

Students of Planet Psychotherapy’s history frequently remark at the curious 1st paradox whereby the Planet’s carefully secretive accumulation of words is matched only by the generation of paper accounts in madly abandoned quantities. That’s not the lone paradox. The second one is the Planet’s relative youth, accompanied by a pervasive cult of aged veneration. Here’s yet another one – the pursuit of calm nirvana is attended by an unmatched propensity for savage warfare. And that’s just three. There are many more rich Planetary seams of paradox to be mined by the thesis inclined.

For many years the Planet was unoccupied. The first colonists came from a world of science and wonder. For those with the material means, life could be extended as disease was banished. Germs were found and beaten. Renegade neurologists with left-field ideas found the Planet a happy hunting ground. Virgin territory. In fact, the more virgins the better. Words of abstinence.

Words were scarce on the Planet but the Guilds did not go hungry. Carefully husbanded word crops kept the Guilds comfortable. Governing structures were developed, orthodoxies established and the living was easy. Private incomes allowed for playtimes. The first law of Planetary paradox was established: words are confidential but paper is the currency of the Planet. Words are turned into paper.

Guild membership depends on paper. The more paper possessed, the easier it is to join a Guild. Senior Guild members, even feared Guild committees, all have their paper. Less later, of course. After all, running a Guild takes time away from paper. Some words never make it into paper. Stay hidden, confidential, lost. Personal firework displays only, soothing old Guild members to sleep.

So the second law of Planetary paradox came to be. The Planet is young, runs on the energy of youth but venerates the exhausted, rigid and empty minds of the aged. This paradox generates paradox 2(i): all paper is accumulative and none is to be replaced, even where such old paper is manifestly untrue, because old paper has been generated by the revered aged ones and must be respected.

As for the third paradox. Deep in the Guild halls, war maps adorn dark rooms. Operations planned. At first the Guilds co-existed happily. New Guilds sprang from youth. Generated their own aged. But, how to venerate all the old? Public displays of respect coupled to vicious paper wars. The youth the foot soldiers. Some would make it over the defences, score hurt with their paper. Use new visitors’ words twisted into paper spears. Others fell as strong Guilds reached deep into others’ back rooms and closed on the venerated aged leaders. But always held back, unable ultimately to violate the second law of Planetary paradox.

Of course, like all Planets, planet Psychotherapy has a wild margin land. Laws of Planetary Paradox are weak here. The writ of the Guilds does not reach to the margins. A race of wild margin dwellers grew up here. Inhabited by these Alchemists, the Doers and the Experimenters, the outlaw lands of the weird and the doings troubled the Guilds little for many years. Knowledge of what went on here was of little import. Guilds never travelled here into coarseness and banditry. Guild conflict and aged veneration bred complacency. The storm brewed in the vessels of the Alchemists. The Guilds never saw it coming.

The wild eyed Alchemists drew little energy from words. Such refinements cut no ice in the banqueting halls of experiment and doing. The Alchemists titrated and measured, watched and talked. Talked. Instructed. Advised. Some visitors’ words strayed into Alchemy land. Alchemists captured these words, sought to measure, catalogue, dissect. Heartless, disrespectful. Instruction books from the margins made their way into Guild halls. Planetary paradox turned upside down – paper can be disproved, replaced, cast aside. But only on the margins. Let them have their dirty lands.

In the dining rooms of doing, the reviled Alchemists nursed their resentments. Catalogued and stored them up as ammunition for the coming campaign. Worked on their experiments. Figured out trajectories, parabolas and angles. Prepared for the longest day. The assault on the halls of the Guilds. And that day would be long indeed, stretching into weeks, months and years. No one would come home by Christmas, neither this one nor many more to come.

The Planet held its breath.