Although we are concerned in this work primarily with individuals, and less with herds and flocks, environments and weathers, as most histories, it seems clear that certain developments in our narrative, shortly to be recounted, might appear somewhat out of joint, or somewhat surprising and anomalous, if treated bluntly. Accordingly, to render our accounts more intelligible, it seems judicious, if not imperative, to devote some attention, in however cursory a manner, to a number of events which were simultaneously occurring in the empire, events which have been only tangentially noted, if at all, to this point in the Valens manuscript.
For purposes of simplicity these events might be denominated political and religious, which semantic differentiation, however, is misleading, for they were often closely intertwined, and, upon occasion, seemingly fused.
Early in our chronicle, even before certain events transpired in a Terennian arena, the Floonian phenomenon was noted. At that time, attention was paid to the nature of the phenomenon, its founder, his teachings, its doctrinal controversies, its development, its relationship to the empire, and other matters. It would be repetitious, and, I think, unnecessary, to delineate these particularities once more. Let us say, rather, simply, and looking forward, that the Floonian phenomenon had undergone significant changes since its inauspicious and local beginnings as a tiny, eccentric, ridiculed, despised sect on the reptilian world of Zirus. Floon himself was a rational salamander or, perhaps better, a salamanderlike creature. Later, of course, Floon was represented under the likeness of a thousand species, on a thousand worlds. His teachings, for example, that rational creatures possessed an invisible, undetectable koos, which was their real self and eternal; that Karch, the chief god, and later supposedly the sole god, endorsed Floon’s teachings, and was somehow identical with Floon, but not really as they were different, too; and that Karch, as Floon taught, was particularly partial to the unhappy, ignored, belittled, envious, resentful, and unsuccessful, who were, as one might expect, numerous, tended to be understandably popular. To these latter folk, the unhappy, ignored, and so on, was promised, for a temporary investment of behaving in a certain way, an eternity of wealth, palaces, gold dishes, good food, happiness, and such. As might be expected, Floon ran afoul of an establishment rather fond of its own notions of a rightly ordered universe, and was executed, being burned alive on an electric rack. This did not prove to be the end of the Floonian phenomenon, however, as Floon was reported to have appeared, though briefly, thereafter, in good health and none the worse for his tragic demise, on a large number of worlds, possibly in a large number of forms. To the skeptic two problems, at least, lingered: first, did this remarkable event occur, and, second, if it occurred, what was its logical relationship, if any, to the Floonian phenomenon? For example, what if a minor god liked Floon and reassembled his charred remains from the grid. Would that somehow be relevant to Floon’s teachings, teachings for which the minor god might be willing to forgive Floon, in the light of Floon’s exemplary, if strange, life? In any event, in the earlier period of the Floonian phenomenon, Floonians were largely societal outsiders, concerned with little but denouncing the world in which they tended to be unsuccessful, and caring for, and nurturing, their koos. The empire, as was its policy, tolerated thousands of gods and thousands of faiths. It had enough trouble on its hands without gratuitously meddling in matters which were largely immaterial to its own security and prospects. On the other hand, as the Floonian phenomenon developed, its relationship to the empire proved more problematic. For one thing Floonians tended to be reluctant to serve a state they found to be, at best, irrelevant to the koos, and, at worst, inimical to its welfare. The state, it seems, was unnecessary and, possibly, opprobrious. For example, it wanted taxes, in the form of money or service; it wanted servitors and soldiers; it wanted respect; it wanted loyalty. The empire, naturally, particularly as Floonianism began to spread, was not eager to see the supposed fibers of its security and power, of its very existence, unraveled, or cut. Also, one might note, whereas the empire tended to be permissive and tolerant, these virtues, or faults, were not shared by the Floonians, or at least by their leaders, exploiting an unexpected source of power, who tended to be dogmatic and intolerant. The developing competitive hierarchies within Floonianism, sometimes by majority votes in councils, sometimes by assassinations, sometimes by riots, sometimes by burning and looting districts, including consecrated edifices, began to develop an impressive maze of unintelligible doctrine which it was important to get just right, even if it was incomprehensible; for example, in some of the clearer announcements, it was discovered that Karch was the sole god, after all, and, by lucky chance, was their god. Further, as noted, Karch and Floon were identical, except different, too, which was a mystery, and all the more awesome for that. In any event, in the hands of various prophets, ministers, patriarchs, deacons, bishops, and such, the gentle, loving teachings of Floon tended to be replaced, as suggested, with dogmatism and intolerance. Also, if the Floonians were correct, their particular faith, in one or another of its several forms, must be the one, true faith, with the result that the thousands of other one, true faiths were not simply mistaken, but wicked, and suitably, justifiably, extirpatable. It was, moreover, alleged that individuals who benightedly failed to profess certain prescribed unintelligibilities would experience a less than pleasant afterlife, very much so, which was not welcome news to large, uneasy, diverse populations. In any event, whether in virtue of intimidation, threats, terrorism, coercion, the burning brand, or whatever, or in virtue of the splendid example of their ideal and blameless lives, Floonianism was spreading throughout the empire. And, as suggested, it was not clear that it was in the best interests of the empire, even that it was compatible with the empire. For example, Floonians kept much to themselves, formed their own societies, declined military service, and so on. A trivial illustration of the increasing friction between this faith and the state, but one that came to assume significant symbolic import, was the matter of professing allegiance to the empire. For example, annually, commonly on the emperor’s birthday, but sometimes on other holidays, it was thought appropriate that an expression of loyalty be vouchsafed to the empire, for example, that a sprig of laurel, a flower, a pinch of incense, a handful of grain, or such, might be placed on the altar of the genius, or spirit, of the empire. This trivial act, so trivial that most citizens did not even bother with it, nor did the state much care, was publicly repudiated by some Floonians, which action forced the state to take notice. As I have suggested, the general policy of the empire toward religious belief was tolerance, and, for the most part, it was as tolerant of Floonianism as it was of the thousands of other faiths within its borders. It did, however, rarely, and sporadically, as it felt threatened, persecute certain Floonians at certain times and in certain places, perhaps to supply the larger populace with monitory examples. On the whole, however, officials found Floonians, wisely or not, quaint and harmless. On the other hand, Floonianism, as time passed, was becoming a force to be reckoned with. It was either, then, to be challenged and fought, or, perhaps more wisely, put to one’s own purposes.
While these religious, or ideological, developments were unfolding, the empire, as was not unusual, given its history, was subject to familiar stresses of a more secular, or political, nature. These stresses, in the current era, however, seemed particularly acute, ranging from those encountered at uncertain and disputed borders, invasions, raids, illicit migrations, failed punitive expeditions, and such, to those erupting within the core of the empire itself, unchecked crime, widespread corruption, and civic disturbances. To these more visible and explicit difficulties were added less dramatic, but similarly serious, difficulties, such as mineral and soil exhaustion and the contamination of air and water. As poverty became more widespread, famine and pestilence became more common. An epidemic, with the crowding and imperfect sanitation, could wipe out more than half of a city’s population in a matter of weeks. The state had become, even in previous centuries, overcentralized, unwieldy, and ill-governing, but remained vainly jealous of clinging to even minor worlds, worlds with which, in many cases, it was only in tenuous touch. Many worlds remained little more than nominal members of the empire. Others, still listed on the rolls of the imperial bureaucracy, had long ago repudiated the absent empire altogether, and instituted their own modes of governance.