Cora had always followed the rules. She did well in school, she listened to her elders, she skipped along the path laid out before her. Which is why she hesitated outside the small tent, wanting to go inside but uncertain of what should would find there. The circus had been in town for a few days, and she had finally gotten a group of friends to go with her (safety in numbers, you know). Cora started the day with her friends, but somehow, her feet had led her away from the acrobatic performance that mesmerized her companions, and here she stood, unsure.
Why had she been drawn to this particular spot? It was a shabby tent, with a small sign that listed to the left. Ask Madame Sofia, it said. Advice from the Universe, $3. Cora jumped as a voice drifted out to her from the shadows.
“Come, child. I know you are out there.”
Cora waited a beat, two, before ducking under the curtain. It was dim inside the tent, but she could make out a woman sitting behind a rickety desk, a small orb and a deck of cards sitting before her.
The woman herself was unlike anyone Cora had seen before. Her gray hair was twisted up elaborately, but her face was young, almost child-like. She was swathed in gauzy crimson fabric, and dripped with silver jewelry. But it was her eyes that held Cora. They were deep, dark, and seemed ancient, like the woman had been around for eons, and knew every secret of the universe.
The woman gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Sit, child. What can Madame Sofia help you with?”
Cora sat gingerly on the chair, worried it would crumble beneath her. “I’m-” she started, clearing her throat. “I’m not really sure.”
Madame Sofia hummed, her finger tracing the edge of the glass orb. “I see so many your age with so few questions. It’s a pity, really. There are so many good ones out there.”
“I have questions,” Cora said, and even she heard the whine in her voice.
Madame Sofia raised an eyebrow.
“I do!” Cora insisted. “Like, where should I apply for college? What internships or volunteer opportunities are going to look best on my résumé? How-” she stopped, flustered, as Madame Sofia threw her head back and laughed.
“Oh, dear,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Those are your pressing questions?”
Cora stared at her mutely.
Madame Sofia leaned back in her chair, her expression somewhere between amusement and sorrow. “I suppose I should expect nothing else. The world has changed much over my lifetime. Children are no longer encouraged to ask questions, to challenge the society in which they are brought up.”
“You don’t know anything about me, or people my age,” Cora shot back.
“Don’t I? So, you aren’t being told by your parents, your teachers, your society, that your only value comes from your labor, and that if you follow the right steps, obey all the rules, that you will be a success, regardless of your soul, your being, what it means to be a good person?”
Cora shifted in her seat. She hadn’t thought about it like that before, but the woman was right. She knew calculus and chemistry, she could write a literary analysis or repeat history, but when was the last time anyone had taught her about kindness, or humility, or to question the state of the world? She had just accepted that the way things were was the way they had to be.
A cold, wet thing touched her hand, and she yelped, jerking back. With wide eyes, she watched a huge dog open its mouth in what could only be described as a grin.
“Fenris,” Madame Sofia chided softly, “that was unkind.”
The dog bowed its massive head, but the glint in its eyes was full of mischief.
“I-it’s okay,” Cora mumbled, watching as the dog moved around the tent, and carefully sat at Madame Sofia’s side. It seemed too big to be a normal dog.
“Fenris is a dear friend,” Madame Sofia was saying, “but she can be a little dramatic.”
“Is it- she,” Cora corrected quickly, “is she a… a wolf?”
“Good eye, my dear,” Madame Sofia murmured. “Fenris is indeed a wolf, but she has agreed to travel with me, instead of her pack, and provide some,” she paused, “additional insight.” She smiled. “Do you know what the difference is between a dog and a wolf?”
“Dogs are domesticated. They evolved along with humans, and learned to read our body language and tone, and they want to please us. Wolves,” she said, her gaze darting between two pairs of watchful eyes, “aren’t. They are almost the same as dogs genetically, but they haven’t been domesticated. They don’t know how to live around humans, and don’t care to.”
Madame Sofia clapped her hands. “Wonderful! But, have you ever considered what that means?”
“What do you mean, ‘what it means?’”
“What does it mean that wolves and dogs are different? Does the difference between wolves and dogs remind you of anything?”
Cora looked down at her lap. She didn’t know what answer was expected of her.
Madame Sofia sighed. “Yes, well, I guess I shouldn’t expect you to see it, trapped as you are in the ‘real world.’” The air quotes seemed very out of character, but made Cora smile a little.
“Will you tell me?” she asked.
“Of course, dear, but I don’t know if… well, I suppose we will see.” Madame Sofia settled back in her chair, clasping her hand in her lap. “People will tell you that dogs are much safer than wolves. You can train a dog, it will perform tricks for you, and it will not turn on you. Am I correct so far?”
Cora nodded.
“You have been told, I am sure, that wolves are quite dangerous. They do not respect human authority, they act in their nature, and their nature will not be controlled by people. Correct?”
Another nod.
“What if I told you,” Madame Sofia said, leaning forward. Fenris licked her lips, and seemed to grin again. “What if I told you that everyone had it backwards?”
“What? That wolves are safer than dogs?” Cora asked. “Are you crazy? I mean, I’m sure Fenris is great, but I wouldn’t want a bunch of wolves living with me. They might hurt someone.”
“Ah,” Madame Sofia said softly. “Well, that is true. Wolves do tend to follow their nature, their truth, regardless of the will of others.” She tilted her head slightly, studying Cora. “Do you see where I am going with this?”
Cora looked away, shaking her head.
“Let’s think of it this way. What if I told you that the dogs represented your teachers, your parents, your potential future employers. And what if I,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “am the wolf?”
“I’m not sure what you mean…”
Madame Sofia sighed, her patience starting to wear thin. “Think, girl! What did you tell me was the difference between dogs and wolves? How might that apply to the people around you?”
“I-I don’t know,” Cora stammered.
“Think for yourself! Let your mind work on it, without worrying about the right answer.”
“Well,” Cora started. “If my teachers are the dogs, then that would mean… That would mean that they are just doing what they are told? That they are safe, that they follow the rules, that they don’t challenge the way things are done?”
“And me?” Madame Sofia prompted.
“If you are the wolf,” Cora continued, still not making eye contact with either of them. “If you are the wolf, that means you are dangerous. That you do whatever you want, and don’t care about what the rest of the world thinks.”
“I do what I want?” Madame Sofia asked.
Cora frowned. “You do what is in your nature. What you think is the way things should be, without the structures of society.”
“Very good,” Madame Sofia murmured. “And what do you think about the analogy?”
“I don’t know…” Cora said. “I’ve never thought like this before.”
Madame Sofia sighed. “Which is exactly my concern for the world. Asking these questions, thinking for oneself, not blindly accepting the status quo; is the true version of human nature. Not jumping when someone rings a little bell, not begging for scraps.” She laughed suddenly. “And then I am dangerous for speaking the truth. What a strange world we are in now.”
Cora heard a shout, followed by laughter, come from outside the tent, and she recognized her friends’ voices. She fumbled in her pocket. “I have to go. It’s $3, right?”
Madame Sofia waved her hand. “Forget it, child. Do me a favor instead.” She bared her teeth in smile. “Be a wolf, not a lapdog.”
Cora nodded, backing out of the tent. She fell in step with her friends, her mind racing.
–
“Well, Fenris, that went well, I think,” Madame Sofia said, stroking the wolf’s back. Fenris dropped her head in Madame Sofia’s lap, looking up at her. “I know,” she sighed. “One soul isn’t going to change the world. But if we can open the right eyes, at the right time, who knows? We might be hearing wolfsong on the news instead of doggy whimpers.”
Fenris grunted, as though she were not quite so optimistic.
Inspired by Plato’s Sophist.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020