Remembering Golden Mountain
In the wake of the Gnome's departure, a small but incredibly powerful vacuum has been created in the lost myths of Atlantis. How could whole generations of Atlanteans claim, as they have over the last seven days, that they knew nothing whatsoever about the Gnome? Was the Thunderer's PR machine so all-devouring, so all-encompassing?
The 2008 book, 'The Scripting of a National History' (printed in the Fragrant Harbour), by two incisive and daring academics, tells us of the Thunderer's apotheosis (or transformation to godhood) and the subsidiary roles his lieutenants played (transformed to demigods or high priests). The authors compare the Thunderer to the Gambler — the only two important personalities in Atlantis. Somehow, the Thunderer's biography became 'The Atlantean Story' and the cornerstone of the island nation's history textbooks.
But as I fell towards the black hole of the Gnome's death, I picked up a book about his schoolmate and friend, Golden Mountain. The book was called 'Golden Mountain: A Builder of Atlantis'. In the book, the Thunderer says that the Gnome and Golden Mountain were opposites: the former was cerebral, the thinker par excellence, with an excellent grasp of the abstruse and the abstract; the latter was not only smart but visceral, able to tell the characters of men at sight and understand their inherent capacity for good or evil, though not so good at abstract conceptualisation.
So who was Golden Mountain? In his day, the cost of public housing was eight Atlantean thalers to the square foot, including the cost of power, water and modern sanitation (p.67). This was in 1960, when $8 would have bought you 400 bowls of noodles. Fifty years later, 400 bowls of noodles would cost perhaps $1200. However, salaries have not risen by a factor of 150, or teachers would be earning $45,000 a month. Golden Mountain kept things not so much cheap as affordable. He was the one member of the Thunderer's pantheon who worked for free and accepted no worship.
He literally got modern Atlantis to be built. The soaring towers of the Land are his monument and his legacy. When you see these structures, they are as much Golden Mountain's as the structures of finance and education belong to the Gnome. They are all a mixed legacy; all Atlanteans are somewhat grateful, some still make a fuss. But rarely do Atlanteans credit either Golden Mountain or the Gnome.
Even when they do, the Gnome is preeminent in that consideration. Yet few realise that they both ran the portfolios of Finance and Education, alternating. They trusted each other, brothers of the Wyvern. They had a bond based on service to their nation, but of greater importance, to their people, their countrymen.
This was unlike the bond between the Thunderer and the people. The Thunderer was always the wielder of lightning, the surpassing majesty whose prerogatives could not be infringed. The people saw him as deity, as lightbringer, as psychopomp in a world of darkness.
But I remember Golden Mountain today. Like gold, he appeared soft but was strong. He could spread himself thinly, be flexible, but remain incorruptible. He did what was necessary, he facilitated work by providing rewards more quickly when the work was done well and promptly. He was a silent conductor in an orchestra of cut-rate architects, engineers, builders, contractors. Yet he also made brutal assessments, though he was kind to everyone who needed it. He was a complex man who was a simple man; he enjoyed food and fine living, but would not inflict high costs on people. He was outspoken in defence of his principles; he was blunt when saying things others would not have dared to say. He was no politician, but he was a faithful servant to the people because he chose to be.
We who sit in relative comfort in Atlantis, grousing about high prices and (relatively) low wages; we who turn the wheel and look to windward; we should remember Golden Mountain, for he was one of the best of us. We should remember Golden Mountain because we live in towers and not in slums, and therefore have a clearer view of what it means to hope.
The 2008 book, 'The Scripting of a National History' (printed in the Fragrant Harbour), by two incisive and daring academics, tells us of the Thunderer's apotheosis (or transformation to godhood) and the subsidiary roles his lieutenants played (transformed to demigods or high priests). The authors compare the Thunderer to the Gambler — the only two important personalities in Atlantis. Somehow, the Thunderer's biography became 'The Atlantean Story' and the cornerstone of the island nation's history textbooks.
But as I fell towards the black hole of the Gnome's death, I picked up a book about his schoolmate and friend, Golden Mountain. The book was called 'Golden Mountain: A Builder of Atlantis'. In the book, the Thunderer says that the Gnome and Golden Mountain were opposites: the former was cerebral, the thinker par excellence, with an excellent grasp of the abstruse and the abstract; the latter was not only smart but visceral, able to tell the characters of men at sight and understand their inherent capacity for good or evil, though not so good at abstract conceptualisation.
So who was Golden Mountain? In his day, the cost of public housing was eight Atlantean thalers to the square foot, including the cost of power, water and modern sanitation (p.67). This was in 1960, when $8 would have bought you 400 bowls of noodles. Fifty years later, 400 bowls of noodles would cost perhaps $1200. However, salaries have not risen by a factor of 150, or teachers would be earning $45,000 a month. Golden Mountain kept things not so much cheap as affordable. He was the one member of the Thunderer's pantheon who worked for free and accepted no worship.
He literally got modern Atlantis to be built. The soaring towers of the Land are his monument and his legacy. When you see these structures, they are as much Golden Mountain's as the structures of finance and education belong to the Gnome. They are all a mixed legacy; all Atlanteans are somewhat grateful, some still make a fuss. But rarely do Atlanteans credit either Golden Mountain or the Gnome.
Even when they do, the Gnome is preeminent in that consideration. Yet few realise that they both ran the portfolios of Finance and Education, alternating. They trusted each other, brothers of the Wyvern. They had a bond based on service to their nation, but of greater importance, to their people, their countrymen.
This was unlike the bond between the Thunderer and the people. The Thunderer was always the wielder of lightning, the surpassing majesty whose prerogatives could not be infringed. The people saw him as deity, as lightbringer, as psychopomp in a world of darkness.
But I remember Golden Mountain today. Like gold, he appeared soft but was strong. He could spread himself thinly, be flexible, but remain incorruptible. He did what was necessary, he facilitated work by providing rewards more quickly when the work was done well and promptly. He was a silent conductor in an orchestra of cut-rate architects, engineers, builders, contractors. Yet he also made brutal assessments, though he was kind to everyone who needed it. He was a complex man who was a simple man; he enjoyed food and fine living, but would not inflict high costs on people. He was outspoken in defence of his principles; he was blunt when saying things others would not have dared to say. He was no politician, but he was a faithful servant to the people because he chose to be.
We who sit in relative comfort in Atlantis, grousing about high prices and (relatively) low wages; we who turn the wheel and look to windward; we should remember Golden Mountain, for he was one of the best of us. We should remember Golden Mountain because we live in towers and not in slums, and therefore have a clearer view of what it means to hope.
Labels: History, Myth, Remembrance
etched with acid at 12:59:00 pm
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