Hey everyone! Of the two tales today, the first is not a folk tale. Rather, it comes from a book called James to the Rescue by Janet Noonan. When I was knee-high to a scraplet, I used to make my mother read that book to me and my sister over and over until we'd memorized her vocal inflections and could pretend to read it ourselves. I found myself remembering the story this morning and realized that the moral of James to the Rescue actually works in the Transformers universe really well. (The second story is based on an old Greek story I learned in the third grade a looong time ago!)
Oh! Hello, Little One. Why, what's wrong? Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that, my child? That you are human does not make you less than your Cybertronian classmates! Who told you that?! Well, they are wrong, dear one. It takes all kinds of people to make a community, you know. Just like the Senator learned! What Senator? Oh, it happened a long, long time ago on Cybertron...
The Senator's Garden Party
One day, long ago, a Senator from the High Council was walking in his crystal garden, admiring the way the morning sun shimmered through the rocks. Suddenly, he saw a delicate figure dancing among the rainbows. It was a little minicon, no bigger than you! The Senator stopped what he was doing to watch the tiny being dance, waving her willowy arms to catch the light. "Ah," he said, "What a fine thing it is to be online this morning, and to watch such a lovely creature enjoy my garden." He would have stayed there for hours, but he remembered that he had an important meeting to go to that day. "But suppose my little minicon gets lonely after I leave?" he thought, "She may fly away, and my garden would be less bright!" And so he called for his gigantic servant, Pathos. "Pathos!" he said, "Go out into the wide, wide world and bring me back someone who is just like her!" Pathos bowed deeply, transformed, and flew over the wall.
He came back in a flash!
He opened his hands, and there on his palms was a tired, dusty, miner drone. "Dear me, no!" the Senator cried, "I said someone just like her! Not a common worker!" Pathos set the grounder down in the garden and nodded. "Now go out into the wide, wide world and bring me back someone who is just like her!" the Senator scolded. Pathos bowed politely, transformed, and flew over the roof.
He came back in a flash!
Surely, the Senator thought, he'd gotten it right this time! "Who have you brought for my minicon?" he asked. Pathos opened his hands, and there on his dented palms was a shaking, quaking, Insecticon. "Dear me, no!" the Senator snapped. "This will never do! I said bring someone just like her! Not some nasty beetle-bot!" Pathos sighed and placed the Insecticon on the ground with the miner drone and the minicon. "Go out into the
wide, wide world," the Senator ordered, one last time, "And bring me back someone who is just like her!" Pathos bowed slightly, transformed, and flew over the villa.
He came back in a flash.
This time, the Senator did not hold much hope that his servant had found another minicon. "Let's see it," he grumbled. There, on his dented and slightly charred palms, was an angry predacon. "Dear me, no!" the Senator yelped, stumbling back, "He might burn my delicate minicon and she would never come back to my garden!" Pathos set the Predacon down and waited patiently while the Senator scolded him. After a while, the politician heard singing. Startled, he turned around and found a most unusual sight. The minicon was sitting on the miner drone's shoulder, passing energon cubes to the Predacon and the Insecticon, each one laughing and talking together. Pathos smiled. "Why, Pathos!" the Senator whispered, "What is this I see? The minicon didn't want to be with someone just like her after all?" Pathos shook his helm. "Friendship does not come from the shape of one's frame, or the caste of one's birth, or the energon in one's veins, or the color of one's armor," he said. "If we did not hold out our hands to others, we should forever be isolated and miserable!" He smiled down at his employer. "Perhaps this is why, when each Spark crawls from the Well, we are told to love that our joy may be full."
The Senator considered his words, and then he smiled as well. "Yes, I suppose it is." He sat down on the smooth stone with the Predacon, the Insecticon, the minicon and the miner. "Tell the Council that I won't be coming in for the meeting today, will you? Then come back out to the garden, and we will spend the day with our new friends." And ever after that, the Senator was a friend to those in lower castes, and a secret supporter of the movement against the system. He did not join the others when they demanded that the Insecticons be removed from the cities, and he stood up for the workers who were thought to stupid to be educated. He learned not to judge a mech by his frame, but by his spark.
You know, the humans have a great many stories about that sort of thing. You will all end up learning about them in school at some point, I am sure. Oh dear, I saw your face fall when I said "school". Are you having difficulties? Detention? Why did you have detention today? I am sorry, dear one, but I do not understand. If you had not done anything wrong, why did you receive detention? Your friend left his homework at home? I don't understand, Little One. What?! You asked the teacher if he could run home and get it, and offered to take his place in detention? If I were the teacher, I'm not sure how I would react to such a statement. She took you up on it? Well, I hope your friend returned! Oh, he did. Excellent! That's quite a friendship you two have if you were both willing to do that for each other. You know, I remember a story very similar to what you two did...
Prowl and Jazz
When Sentinel Zeta Prime ruled Cybertron, he was harsh and cruel. He was not loved, or admired, for he believed only in the strictest of laws. Prowl, a young tactician in the ranks of his army, began to be dissatisfied with his tyranny. Even though Prowl loved the law and had no wish to break it, he recognized that Sentinel was bringing his world to ruin. And so, he began to plot against him. One way or another, Sentinel found out about Prowl's treachery and sentenced him to death. Accepting his sentence, Prowl asked to be allowed to return home long enough to settle his affairs and bid his Sire and Carrier farewell. "Do you take me for a fool?" Sentinel Prime asked, "For well I know that if I let you leave, you will never return!" Standing amongst the crowd in the courtroom that day was a mech named Jazz. Almost from the day they came to their parents from the Well, Jazz and Prowl had been close, if unlikely, friends.
"Let me take his place, Sentinel Prime!" Jazz called out in the courtroom. The judges were astonished, and the crowd was moved by this display of compassion. Sentinel Zeta Prime knew that the smart thing to do would be to allow the request, but he was still angry at Prowl and therefore made a cruel decision. "If your friend does not return on the day his sentence is to be passed," he warned Jazz, "You will be executed in his place." Jazz left the gallery to stand beside Prowl. "I understand," he said, but he did not take back his offer. Prowl was released and Jazz was imprisoned in his place. Sentinel Prime was convinced that he had seen the last of Prowl, and consoled his bruised ego with the knowledge that at least someone was going to be executed for defying him. Days passed, and despite the jeers and the mockery of his guards, Jazz waited calmly. "Prowl will come back," he assured them, "You may have no doubt of it."
The morning of the execution came, but there was not sign of Prowl.
The afternoon of the execution came, and Jazz was moved from his cell to the arena, but Prowl did not come.
The evening of the execution came and Jazz walked to the middle of the arena with his helm held high. He paused in front of Sentinel Prime and said, "At least my friend shall live." And he continued to the swordsmech.
The executioner raised his blade, then a voice cut through the crowd. "STOP!"
It was Prowl! He was covered in rust, dents, and appeared to be missing one of his shoulder guards. Prowl ran to his friend and pushed him to the side, then knelt before the swordsmech. "Your pardon, Prime," he said to Sentinel, "I did not intend to be so tardy. You see, on the way here I had to cross the Sea of Rust. My ship was ambushed by Slicers and I was cast into the sea. I have just finished swimming the rest of the way here." Sentinel was flabbergasted. So astonished by the strength of Jazz and Prowl's friendship was he that he had little choice but to free them both and grant Prowl a pardon. If he had not, it is likely that he would have been overthrown long before Megatron ever rose through the ranks of the gladiators in Kaon.
The ordeal only reinforced the friendship of Jazz and Prowl, and to this day they remain as close as brothers. You may meet them yourself, one day, if you ever wander through the Archives in the mid-afternoon. Prowl likes to do his paperwork there, and Jazz likes to bother him. That's one of the reasons I keep sweets at my kiosk: sometimes I have to bribe him so Prowl can get things done. Yes, he does act like a sparkling sometimes, doesn't he? Well, I'll tell him you said so. It's only fair, after all. He told my oldest son about the sticky situation you got into, so I get to tell you something embarrassing about him! Ah, is that the friend you were telling me about? Well, he looks none the worse for wear for his detention. Why don't you go see how he is? Run along now, Little One. I'll still be here tomorrow.