The Tale of Schismus the self disarmer

That all of him speak the same thing, in spite of the divisions among him. And that he be perfectly joined together in one mind, and be of the same behaviour. 

There was a time when belief in the supernatural created ties which bound believers and worshippers into very tight communities. In one of these there was a man, Schismus, who, up until his early thirties had felt and thought exactly the same way as his community. But he was a man alone, and without a family to support, and who worked harvesting grain in the summer months; and in winter he worked gathering fuel for the community’s fires. He was a strong man, fit and able, upon whom among other similar men, the community depended. His reward was community acceptance, although he preferred the company of other men, during the working day and even at night.

It was after one night, in late spring, when Schismus’ life changed. He had been merry and gay with his fellows, for the harvest had been plentiful, and though normally restrained in his merriment, for there was work still to be done, tonight he really let his hair down, literally, because it was long and braided into a crown; and he danced loose haired and very gaily around a roaring fire. His dancing became a frenetic whirl, much to the amusement of the other men, because Schismus was usually very serious and conscientious. Eventually the men went to their beds leaving Schismus lost in his frenetic whirl.

The next morning when they came for him the men were alarmed to find he was nowhere to be seen. They began to call out for him but there was no answer. Because there was still much work the men decided they best leave looking for Schismus until the afternoon. It was only when the sun began its late afternoon descent that the men went looking for Schismus. They fanned out in all directions searching the surrounding fields, every water course and further into the verdant hills. ‘Schismu’s they called. At first they were hesitant, fearful of disaster, but as evening was drawing in their loud voices called for his name over and over again.

They found him by the time the sun was near casting its last light for the day. He was sitting on a rock beside a brook, looking tired, and he was armless. The sleeves of his tunic were torn off, and where his arms should have been there were instead gaping holes. There was no blood and Schismus did not look like he was about to die. The men rushed to him out of fear and horror. To see this man armless was shocking, to see him unaffected by this was bizarre. He turned to them and tiredly greeted them with a half-smile. Then he turned his head behind him and told them to look in that direction. This they did and to their horror they saw Schismus’ arms standing up on their fingers and thumbs, and where a stump should have been there was instead hair. And just below the hairline, there appeared to be a set of eyes. The arms began to approach the men who screamed and ran. At the same time Schismus had collapsed.

The men returned to Schismus at daylight. He was in a prone position and he looked dead. His arms were standing nearby and looking towards him. There were tears in their eyes. One of the men shook Schismus’ armless shoulders and slowly he arose and stood before them. He looked a different man. He was much older and his gait was no longer erect. But his piercing eyes looked directly at the rising sun as though he was drawing in the rays. The sun’s rays give him strength he said. He stood still for a moment and it appeared as though he was rising off the ground, but then he smiled and he returned to earth. He said for the men to walk with him to their village. His arms, now almost mini Schismus’, followed behind. The men took no heed of them.

And thus became the disarming of Schismus. But although his community was very tight, and the laws that governed them strict, in order to accept Schismus and his disarming, and at the same time not fracture the community, perceptions of him were changed. Schismus was no longer who he was, diligent and conscientious; the core of the team. Without arms he was useless. And this was not a time in history when the different were ostracized and cast away. There was too much interdependence. And there has been no precedent. One brain, as it ran through all of his people, was shared, and never divided. No thought had been given to other ways of doing things. Schismus’ arms however, are offering an alternative.

And the matter of his arms which had become twin grotesques resembling Schismus, and which showed similar characteristics and mannerisms, were the centre of community discussion. Because although Schismus could no longer work in the fields his arms could, as they themselves had grown arms, and what were once four fingers had become two, becoming little legs that powered along. The thumbs meanwhile had dropped off, and were left where they fell. Then the thumbs evolved into small arms, and when they worked, they whirled and twirled in different time like small children do, much to the amusement of the others. The community saw how the harvesting could be done differently and they began implementing new methods.

The other cast-off fingers grew torsos, and from them arms and fingers, then heads, and then other physical replications of Schismus. Soon they were at work in the fields and in the woods. They all worked as hard as Schismus did, although not quite in the same way. They would do little tricks, or work at different paces, and Schismus, who was made in charge of them, initially had great trouble controlling them. Their outlook was a breath of fresh air, and over time they made variations to the established rules to suit their needs, but with the community always in mind. And as the seasons came and went their work was much appreciated, and apart from these unusual methods, they were not that much different to Schismus, who by now, having got over seeing his arms working independent of him, considers them his children; for they are rarely disobedient, and they complete the tasks expected of them.

No one has asked Schismus the circumstances of his arms coming away; how it was that he did not die. There has been much speculation of course, and the community doubts whether Schismus could give a reasonable answer anyway. Before his disarming Schismus was the community’s best worker, but whom, on becoming a visionary from his disarming, has come to see his physical attributes not for what they are but for what they could be. The arms, the little bastards some affectionately call them, do look a lot like Schismus. They are smaller than him of course but it is quite remarkable how similar they are in external features. They are not exact replicas, rather they are vulgarities of the once beautiful Schismus, but there is enough of him in them to give the community a certain confidence it will survive for generations to come.