Once upon a time there was a man called Muska … ever since he had been bullied at school, he had dreamed of flying to the moon … and so he took over the legendary castle in the sky, the flying island of Laputa … just because he had the money and the power …
“Laputa will live! I will return it to life and then set off my journey to the Moon! Laputa’s power is the dream of all mankind!“
… but two friends, who had discovered the island, too, didn’t share his dream …
“… a king without compassion does not deserve a kingdom … Now I understand why the people of Laputa vanished. There is a song from my home in the valley of Gondoa that explains everything. It says, ‘Take root in the ground, live in harmony with the wind, plant your seeds in the winter, and rejoice with the birds in the coming of spring.’ No matter how many weapons you have, no matter how great your technology might be, the world cannot live without love.”
The Castle in the Sky crumbled, becoming a celestial relic of bygone aspirations falling to the earthly realm …
And our heroes, Sheeta and Pazu … they felt sad at first and immediately longed for the old state, but they didn’t feel lonely, because they still had their friends on earth and each other …
And so together, they returned to their homes, where the news of their adventures and the wonders they had seen, quickly spread. And together with their communities, they thought of a way to build a new Laputa … perhaps with the help of the debris that had fallen from the sky … maybe they could use its tech to build new islands …
And so it was done …
Even Colonel Muska, who had landed in a giant pool of mud, found an island that he could contribute to. Where he could use his driven, impulsive nature for good, instead of destruction. And soon, hundreds of island were floating in the air.
And together, Pazu and Sheeta travelled the new islands, which were connected through bridges but still independent of one another, so that they could never be destroyed or conquered by anyone again … or, as Uncle Pom told them: “Listen, kids, no castle flies forever”, he said, “that’s the only thing I know. They all come down eventually. So one guy came up with the idea: why not connect’em? At least one will always stay a’flying, so the dream of Laputa will always stay afloat.”
And even though over time the both grew apart, Sheeta joined her own crew of pirates, while Pazu wanted to help build the flying island of his miner family, they still met often to travel the islands of Laputa.
And while their different alliances led to one or the other quarrel, they stayed livelong friends, always on the search for adventures and new shores to explore …
But over the years, the islands drifted more and more apart. Even though the sky was endless, they began to fight each other and there was a big war.
Afterwards, with many, many people dead, the islands decided that they should work together and so, they founded the United Islands of Laputa. To find a way to end war … forever.
70 years later … now
From the diary of president Francis of the EQ collective:
“I vividly remember the moment I opened the acceptance letter. The weight of anticipation almost exploded as I read the words “You were accepted as an intern …”. I jumped through my community’s building, dancing and shouting, immediately telling all my friends about it. Little did I know that the transparent walls of the Glass House would soon reveal more to me than just parliamentary sessions …
Back in my room, I unpacked the VR goggles, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and curiosity. Slipping on the sleek glasses, before my eyes, a whole new place opened up: a place of white and glass. I looked around in wonder and was immediately greeted by Rhe, a minor politician from my home island.
Rhe led me through the giant spherical structure, a marvel of design that seemed to defy gravity itself. As we ascended the staircases, I marvelled at the panoramic view through the transparent walls, revealing the vastness of the floating islands and government spheres surrounding us.
The House of Glass, an intricate lattice of steel and glass, provided a breathtaking glimpse into the heart of the United Islands of Laputa. The transparent sphere allowed natural light to filter in, creating an atmosphere that felt both open and awe-inspiring. The different platforms that floated all around us, showcased parliamentary discussions and presidential deliberations that were live streamed all over United Laputa, reinforcing the commitment to transparency that defined the Glass House.
Moving over the spiralling staircases, I couldn’t help but look outside. The entire sphere seemed to float gracefully in the sky, suspended among other government structures. Each sphere housed a different aspect of governance, and I could see politicians and officials traversing the walkways between them. The islands below appeared like a patchwork quilt of diverse landscapes, a representation of the varied communities that made up the united Laputa.
As I gazed below, I spotted my collective on my home island — an oasis of lush greenery, intertwined with the architectural beauty of our eco-queer haven.
The image itself wasn’t real of course, a mere simulation of the real thing; but they had to put something on these walls and I was glad that they did: the floating islands projected on the walls of the House of Glass, conveyed the unity in diversity that defined our islands.
On Rhe’s silent tap on my shoulder, I turned back to the inside of the glass house. Just next to us, a parliamentary session was held.
Rhe, with a warm smile, pointed out the distinctive features of the different islands and shared anecdotes about the unique political dynamics at play. The giant sphere encapsulated a world where politics, culture, and governance intersected in a delicate dance. Little did I know that beneath the surface of this transparent utopia, a complex web of political dynamics and different, changing factions of alliance awaited, and my journey would lead me to right into the intricacies of Fediverse politics.
After the parliamentary meeting concluded, Rhe and I retreated to a quiet corner within the House of Glass. The transparency of the building allowed us to continue our conversation while keeping an eye on the bustling activity going on around us.
In the meanwhile, Rhe’s expression had shifted, and a hint of concern creased their brow as they broached a topic that hinted at troubles beyond the confines of the United Islands of Laputa.
“Francis,” Rhe began, their voice laced with a sense of gravity, “there’s something we need to discuss that goes beyond the parliamentary sessions you’ve witnessed so far. It concerns a flying island that operates outside United Laputa, a group that challenges the principles we hold dear.”
I leaned in, eager to understand the broader context of the political landscape. Rhe explained that there was an external island known for its resistance to transparency and collaboration. This group, labelled by many as the Shadow Island, had been a source of ongoing tension. Rumours circulated about their closed-door negotiations, clandestine agendas, and a general disregard for the principles that defined the United Islands of Laputa. They were openly declaring their spite for the United Islands of Laputa and constantly pointed out our mistakes, while never revealing any information about their own internal going-ons. The United Islands of Laputa needed to grow more resilient, but there was no consensus on how to proceed.
As we discussed the challenges posed by the Shadow Island, the floating islands below took on a different light. The vibrant diversity that characterized United Laputa seemed juxtaposed against the potential threat looming from beyond its borders. Rhe’s words resonated with my own feelings, resulting in a sense of urgency. “They operate in the shadows, resisting the openness we strive for. Their motives remain unclear, but their actions have consequences that ripple through the collective’s islands. We need to be vigilant and understand that not everyone shares our commitment to a collaborative future.”
I nodded, absorbing the gravity of the situation. The Glass House, with its transparent walls and symbolic representation of unity, suddenly seemed like a fortress guarding against external forces that sought to challenge the ideals we held dear. But the glass also symbolized its fragility. After all, United Laputa was still very young, only a few years ago, the islands were heavily dependent on grounded states and cooperations but had fought for their independence with diplomacy and ultimately gained it, although they still needed to be accepted as a full state, they had guaranteed safety and protection until then. It was only a matter of time as they ensured me, but I could feel, for first time, the insecurity in their voice. The US was at our side, because the current president invested heavily in the idea for which we stood and had already severed the ties with the United Islands of Laputa beforehand, but other factions of the world saw not so favourable on this increase of influence and the consequences that the independence of their own islands would bring.
As we left the corner of the Glass House to join another session, I heard the discussions with new significance. Beyond the borders of United Laputa, there lay challenges and uncertainties that demanded attention. Little did I know that my internship would soon evolve into a journey where the transparency of the Glass House would be put to the test, not just within, but also against the shadows that lurked on the horizon. There were people out there that wanted to see everything we built to shatter to a thousand pieces.
“At least we have the US president on our side”, I said hesitantly, almost fearing their reaction.
They leaned her head from side to side, her gaze in the distance: “We aren’t sure what game exactly the president is playing. You know the saying ‘Fights between factions help those in power’? This may be the case here as well; the president may have an ulterior motif. I mean, everyone is better than the last one, but we cannot be too careful with our alliances. If in doubt, we will play save and double check everything.”
“Sounds good”, I said, not knowing what else to say.
They smiled, and then, they leaned closer to me and said with a mock-conspiratorial voice: “Oh and remember that everything we do here is livestreamed in the stream of United Laputa, so: be careful what you say and don’t weave too many intrigues. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, don’t you? … your royal highness?”
“He is keeping it rather low-key these days”, I said without looking away.
They nodded amused, waved at me in the typical fashion of our collective and went away.
In the following days, as I settled into my internship at the Glass House, Rhe guided me through the intricate workings of the eco-queer island’s representation within the larger framework of the Laputa Parliament. The atmosphere within the giant sphere was a blend of focused discussions and a constant hum of activity. My understanding of the political dynamics expanded, and the transparent walls of the House of Glass became both a window and a mirror to the complexities of governance.
The day of my first parliamentary meeting arrived, and I had specially adjusted my VR goggles to a higher auditory sensitivity, to immerse myself even more in the proceedings. The walls of the House of Glass displayed a virtual panorama, capturing the essence of the floating islands and government spheres. It was as if I had stepped into a three-dimensional representation of the political landscape.
“I won’t be here for the rest of the day”, Rhe had told me before it, “this will be very important for the future of Laputa. I want you to report to me a summary. Can you do that?”
“Sure”, I said firmly and meant it.
As the meeting commenced, the eco-queer island’s representatives articulated our concerns and visions for the united islands of Laputa. The discussions were not just about policies; they were about the intertwining narratives of the flying islands, each contributing to the vibrant tapestry of our communities.
The topics ranged from environmental sustainability to gender inclusivity and diplomacy to physical nations, and I found myself engrossed in the discourse. The flying islands, visible through the virtual walls, pulsed with life, symbolizing the heartbeat of Laputa. I observed my home island with a sense of pride, realizing the impact our eco-queer values had on shaping the broader narrative of our society.
However, as the meeting progressed, it became apparent that beneath the transparent rhetoric of collaboration, subtle power plays and strategic alliances were at play. The floating islands below, once serene in their digital representation, seemed to echo the undercurrents of political manoeuvring and I wondered about the nuances of parliamentary dynamics, the unspoken negotiations and alliances that fuelled the decision-making process. The virtual reality experience provided a front-row seat to the intricacies of governance, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility as I witnessed the shaping of the united Laputa’s future even if I couldn’t understand everything.
The Humanistic-Judeo-Christian-Islamic island wanted to push through a safety-guarantee to the state of Israel, which was declined, because it was decided that it was a thing for the islands to decide and not on Laputa-level. My island wanted to make the glass house even more transparent, which was declined, mainly by the hand of the humanistic island with the argument, that then, we would be even more vulnerable to the Shadow Island. This brought up the high-tech island, which outlined the totally crazy idea of replacing the Glass House with a decentralized governing AI. I thought I couldn’t hear my own ears, I looked around, but the idea was only met with a collective sigh from the other parties. “You can’t kill a ghost!”, the High-Tech-Member shouted unimpressed. The idea was unanimously declined. We already had governing AIs helping out, but this also was a thing for each island to decide and it was common knowledge that the High-Tech’s AI wasn’t as well working and that they mainly wanted the data of all other islands, which was the real reason behind their reoccurring suggestion apparantly. And the significant member loss that they had faced to my island in the process of it. But I couldn’t wonder at their unhidden audacity. Something was up here in the up.
Then, we heard a member of the Hinduist-Hellenistic-Shinto island, who called for more support of the moon colonies. This also, was declined, because United Laputa was low on resources already according to the High-Tech island. Why hadn’t they then proposed the installation of a new super AI? It occurred to me the sudden feeling that the islands were afraid and were raising up their barriers to one another again, just like a few years ago, when the unity had almost broken apart … things were not running as smoothly as I had always thought them too be. But, I thought, everyone could see it, right? Why hadn’t they? Why hadn’t I? Because I didn’t want to?
And why the hell wasn’t the president saying anything to this? In the end, there would again be lots of appologies and a collective relieve, that our president wasn’t a power-player and such a nice guy. Why does no one want to take any responsibility? Because every wrong word will be dissected in the social networks of the different islands?
I immediatly noticed how these thoughts were shifting my gender towards the male side of the spectrum, but it didn’t come as an intrusion like usually, and for the first time, I held it only gently in control, feeling the power and anger of it pulsing through my veins. It felt good. I had, after all, trained for years to use it with measure, and now, I felt ready to use it to push through legislations that would strengthen the fabric of the united Laputa.
As the meeting concluded, I first again noticed the transparent walls, once again revealing the floating islands and government spheres, held new significance. I had become part of a tradition that extended beyond the eco-queer island — a story woven into the very fabric of the global world community. Little did I know that my journey was only beginning.
I removed the VR goggles, returning to the physical reality of my home. I had almost forgotten that I was actually here; so much had the world of the Glass House captivated me. I swallowed hard. This was it. This was what I wanted to do. Had it actually happened? I tried to turn the VR goggles on again, but they had been automatically turned off, but it was fine. I had only one question in my mind anyways: will United Laputa survive this time? For a moment, I even thought that I had heard a sharp crack of glass and someone whispering something like “Balus”, but it was nothing of course.
For a few moments, I just laid back and stared at the ceiling, the googles dangling at my hand almost on the ground. Then, I sat up, carefully placed it on the sofa, and walked to the window. In the sky, I could see the Glass House, flying in the sky for all to see, all transparent; below my window on the street, my fellow island members where walking, laughing, chatting with one another. It was all fine, as long as I had them, all would be fine. Although the flying islands weren’t kept in the air on their own. Everyone here had to go down there once in a while and even if it was only to catch some fresh air … by now, more than half of world’s population had a second home on one of the flying islands; it was only a matter of time until everbody did. Not that it would make a difference really, given how heavily dependent we were on them already.
I turned away from the window, changed clothes and went outside to my weekly running group of the neighbourhood, almost carefree, if the air wouldn’t have felt so thin all of a sudden …”
Based on the characters of Studio Ghibli’s “Laputa: Castle in the Sky”. Written by bluebbberry in December 2023, licensed under CC 4.0 Attribution.
Fungiverse Tales 