The life of an Elder
It is late evening in Emperor Land. To be more precise, it was about 7pm, but of course the penguins do not know that. They have their own sense of time, mostly revolving around the setting of the sun; the only time these rules don't apply is during the winter, when the sun vanishes from the land. These rules had been thought up when the colony had been founded, and they'd been passed down by the Elders for generations... but did the Elders really have any power anymore?
That's what Noah was wondering right now.
The penguins of Emperor Land had always listened to the Elders, with no exception. But today... today there'd been some kind of uprising. A young troublemaker named Mumble had led the others into something Emperors just don't do... dancing. They knew this wasn't the way, they knew singing was the only way to please the Great Guin, yet they listened to Mumble! Worst of all, they joined him! Noah shook his head in disgust; the mere thought of such sacrilige offended him. No wonder there were hardly any fish...
But a small voice nagged in the back of his mind; was it really a good idea to exile Mumble? Maybe dancing was the way? Maybe he was right about those aliens? What if - just maybe - the Elders were wrong?
"Nonsense," Noah said to himself, in an attempt to shut the voice up. "We're the smarter of the nation. We know how the rules go. We are never wrong."
The voice did not be quiet, but he ignored it anyway. That voice was trouble; it had been with him ever since he hatched out of his egg, and he had been told by his father to ignore it, for it was the voice of rebellion. "It is that voice that causes penguins to break the rules," his father, Jeremiah, had told him. "And the rules are our way of life, as you well know."
Noah did know, and that was why he was here. He'd never listened to that voice, and he'd often wondered why other penguins would. Sometimes he would observe them, watching them from an icy peak, and wonder why they didn't seem happy with the rules. Those rules were made to protect them, couldn't they see that? They were made to keep them on good terms with the Great Guin, who provided all they needed from life. Why couldn't they follow them? He'd followed them all his life, and no harm had come to him.
When Noah was a baby penguin, Jeremiah was not yet old enough to be an elder, but he had already developed the attitude of one (not that it was a bad thing, in his son's eyes, but it did appear to be in other penguins'). Noah had no mother; she was one of the few who didn't make it back from the fishing trip. He had no idea what had happened to her - something involving an orca, apparently - but it was not something he dwelled on; his father always said they would manage on their own, and they did - with a little help from the Elders of that time. Jeremiah's attitude may have been unpopular with the younger penguins, but the Elders had a lot of respect for him and were only too happy to organise someone to find fish for them. Jeremiah was very grateful, and he made sure his son was too.
"Pay attention to the Elders, Noah." Jeremiah had told him on his first day of Penguin Elementary. "Respect them, because it is thanks to them that our nation is still thriving."
Noah, who listened to everything his father told him, took his words to heart.
As he sat in class, he was aware the Elders were watching him, trying to tell him apart from the other kids. It was not that hard - from the moment he'd started school, he'd been treated as an outcast by the other penguins.
"Who's he?" he'd heard one ask.
"He's Jeremiah's son," her
friend replied. "You know, that stuffy old penguin who tells us
to leave him alone."
"Which one's his son?"
"The
tall one."
That was another thing; ever since he could remember, Noah had always been taller than the other penguins. It wasn't a problem for him now, but it was back then. Fortunately, a lot of those memories were lost to him as he grew older, but he knew they were not pleasent ones. All he could remember was being alone throughout most of his school years. Once, a few months before his graduation, he had worried whether he would be alone for the rest of his life. Concerned, he went to the one person who would know the answer; Jeremiah.
"Father," he asked. "Why do the other penguins avoid me?"
His father - who, in a few months, would become an Elder - looked towards the other penguins in Noah's class. They were playing around on the ice, clearly without a care in the world. Jeremiah frowned, then turned back to his son.
"Do they say why they avoid you, Noah?"
"They say I'm no fun."
Jeremiah
laughed loudly. "Fun? What do you need fun for,
Noah? The Great Guin has greater plans for you."
"Do you think so, Father?"
"I know so." Jeremiah put a flipper on his son's shoulder, then gestured towards the other penguins. "The Great Guin has plans for every penguin who ever lived. Those penguins are going to have regular lives; they grow, they breed, then they pass on to the great unknown. You, my son, are going to do better than that; you are going to lead this colony one day. The Great Guin looks upon you with pride, Noah, and he is going to give you a long and happy life. Why would you want to have fun when you're going to become Head of the Elders someday?"
The thought of becoming Head of the Elders - the highest position in the whole colony - filled Noah with pride. Then another thought occured to him.
"Father, if the other penguins avoid me, how will I find a mate?"
Jeremiah laughed again, a loud, hearty laugh that stuck with his son for hours afterwards. "What do you need a mate for?"
Good question, and one Noah never bothered to answer. When the mating season rolled around, he always ignored it, because he never wanted any female company. But there was that one time...
Noah stopped thinking; times were bad enough without remembering her.
Suddenly, he heard another penguin walking up behind him. He turned around to face Eggbert, his fellow Elder.
"Noah," he asked. "What shall we do about the fish shortage?"
"There's only one thing we can do, Eggbert, and you know it; we must be as dutiful as possible and hope the Great Guin will forgive us for this fiasco."
Eggbert stood beside him. "Mumble has been banished?" he asked.
"You know he has," Noah replied. "You were there. You saw him."
"Do you think that will be enough?"
"I certainly hope so."
"You
know something, Noah," his friend commented, looking out as the
other penguins walked below. "I think you handled the situation
really well. Jeremiah would have been proud."
"You think so?" Noah's voice was calm, but he was secretly delighted with this praise; any positive comparison to his father was good for him.
"I remember when he was alive, and I know so. He got us through some bad times, Noah, and so shall you. Just keep up the good work."
And he waddled away, leaving Noah by himself once more.
As Noah watched, the sun sank low in the sky. He felt a sense of pride, a feeling that his dignity had returned.
He was like his father. He had definately tried to be, all his life.
He would get them through this.
But, a few weeks later, something happened that changed everything.
