Of Care and Capitalism — a short story
Once there was a king who lived in a lofty castle on a high hill far above the kingdom of the people he ruled. Each morning he would hold court and tell of the great works he had planned. He spoke of a great sea port with deep channels that would allow the tall ships of foreign merchants to dock with their precious cargoes of silk and spices.
He spoke of a broad street which would connect his port with neighbouring kingdoms. It would bring in wealthy businessmen who might turn shabby houses into luxury apartments. “This would please my subjects”, the king told his courtiers, “because it would make their neighbourhoods beautiful”.
He also spoke of great theatres that would attract legends of music and the dramatic arts. “This would spread the fame of my kingdom far and wide”, he exclaimed. “To enjoy the arts would lift my subjects out of the drudgery of their daily lives and they would see me as a benefactor.”
Each afternoon the king would look out of his high windows and see those works develop brick by brick, yard by yard and stone upon stone. Each evening he would dream of the future children of his kingdom, asking who the great benefactor was that bestowed on them such beauty and splendour.
Then one night there was a terrible storm, so severe even the six foot stone…
