CHAPTER 14. THE VOICE OF JUSTICE.

February 14, 1834.

“Like any widely circulated banknote, I was just one of hundreds of trillions—I resembled all my brethren, and all my brethren resembled me, but the reason for this resemblance was not the complete absence of our freedom, but its complete presence: the only thing that guided us was the call of instincts, the voice of nature, the leitmotif of uniqueness. Unlike humans, we had no society, and therefore we were completely alien to such concepts as brotherhood, equality, or justice… Justice! I only learned of the existence of this word when I was forcibly plunged into the world of humans. But what was before that? I, a distant descendant of the very shield that once managed to avert a danger from the heavens in the form of Nimrod’s arrows, loved with a fierce passion my truly aimless, but by no means un-energized, wanderings through the flesh of the immense azure, without knowing either the beginning or the end of my journey. In my being, a most sincere passion for contemplating the truly wonderful dances of the actually motionless stars on the dark-faced watery veil arose no less naturally. In their essence, I saw more than just light—in their atoms, I beheld myself…

Many moons passed from the moment of my birth to the very day when I had the misfortune of meeting a human for the first time—on that day, I lost a truly large number of my brethren: from that time on, I managed to realize that a human is evil, despite the fact that, like me and my other brethren, he, opening his eyes every day, reveals something alive to this world, reveals life itself to it. Overcoming a truly countless number of obstacles on my life path and for some reason returning to the very spaces of the globe that I had left at one time or another, truly unique and exceptional pictures arose before my eyes—with the assistance of a human, the greatest and most exquisite structures were transformed into chaotic ruins, and the most chaotic ruins into great and exquisite structures. Sometimes, while staying near one or another representative of the human race, I happened to hear such words as “dream,” “hope,” and “fantasy”—the meaning of these words was completely incomprehensible to my mind, even though I partly understood them: what was there for me to dream about, what was there for me to hope for, and what was there for me to fantasize about when my life had everything that was necessary for its favorable flow—I was not a human, and what else is needed for happiness? I lived in the gardens of Tantalus, which abounded not only in the breathless creations of the Almighty, but also, what is most important, in creations with breath in the flesh.

Humans, in turn… Humans! Their noise—the noise of civilization—was extremely disgusting to my nature and my being, and therefore I often ran away from their manifestations of their own existence: I ran to a place where there were no laws about good or evil for me, where I was guided only by my instincts and the power of facts (the sunrise and sunset, the beginning and end of rain, the change of day and night, the flight and death of the wind)—to a place where the fire pit of primitive nature was still glowing. I knew nothing about the existence of human laws—I only found out about them when for some reason I became a prisoner of their vicious society… For some reason… External force was sometimes much stronger than me and no matter how hard I tried to work my fins more and more stubbornly, I sometimes failed to overcome the mighty will of the omnipotent current—so, I also failed to overcome the no less mighty will of a human: he tamed me, my will and my aspirations, reducing them to the size of a glass aquarium, from the depths of which I saw how, like the current, the hands of truly ancient clocks were moving non-stop on the wall of this insignificant room—I perfectly understood the processes of the elements, but I was not able to understand the very intricate processes and mechanisms that so invariably moved these hands in a circle forward…

Memories often flashed through my mind of that day when I, not otherwise than consciously, separated myself from the countless string of our school—many of them despised me, but it was then that I felt superior to them: it is very likely that in that very hour the true beginnings of an independent personality were born in me for the first time—having isolated my essence from the school, I began to think about everything in the world. I imagined myself as not being like everyone else, and therefore very soon I became one—perhaps it is for this reason that my essence is in a glass aquarium when others, similar to me, but less worthy than mine of freedom, essences are in its embrace: undoubtedly, being in a school I would have been able to learn how one should and should not behave within the limits of our places of residence, but… but on my own and, what is most important, purposefully, I deprived myself of the very example that I should have looked at. I remember… I remember!.. how every atom of my gentle scales felt every moment of this life!.. I remember… I remember!.. how I was considered deceased when I was only plunging into the abyss of sleep! I remember… I remember!.. how my flesh loved to tremble… to tremble just as a string on a violin trembles!.. Humans changed everything! They changed my life! I hated their voice—when I began to understand their speech, I hated them even more! Many of them wanted to conquer the world, even more—to conquer women. Many of them wanted to give life to this world, but even more—death! But why, why did they need this? Was it not because they were unable to create something else, something more magnificent and less ordinary, like a symphony, a painting, or a book? Was it not because they created evil that they were unable to create good? I saw a lot, but I saw even more that I did not see, however, I was able to understand that it is by no means my mind and by no means my soul that the aquarium now shackles: the aquarium is their lot. Is it not better to know this world, being shackled in freedom, than to be free and in no way understand the beauty and uniqueness of this world? What, then, is the true prison—my aquarium or their freedom?