ShortStory#1
Best Way to start a story is with a the
It started out as a joke. It would soon be a law, he knew, but just for the record, it was important to understand that it was a joke.
Jeff smiled at the Deret River before him. It would be his daily ritual for the next few years, a confirmation that life was … just.
Admittedly, his house had just been destroyed by a flood from that very same river.
“The debt Deret incurred will be paid off by the end of the next six months, sir.” said Williams, the lawyer assigned to the Deret v Jeff case. “That is, based on the current rate of income for the shipping industries as well as the loggers that are currently plying the river.”
Jeff kicked away one of the sticks that had washed ashore after the flood. That had most likely been one of the trees beside his now forlorn looking house. He still wore the same clothes that he had on when he escaped from the burgeoning waters on the bank. It was another anchor to the reality tht was facing. Besides, the amount of money promised by a river was always… fluid. He knew that. If anyone knew how tempestuous a river was, it was him.
Living in Clamzoria had been a bit… strange from the start. Back where he was from, the rivers were a lot meaner than the rivers you got today. Laura, who had developed a fascination with Clamzoria kept on insisting that they had made the right choice, but Jeff had stubbornly refused to admit it. If anyone was going to ruin his life, it was going to be him.
“So what you’re saying,” he muttered to Williams. “Is that the river is going to be paying my back for my house?”
“Not as such, sir.” said Williams, turning to the last page of the brief. “There is a precedent in Clamzoria that all every rock, tree and river have their own spirits. That these spirits are legal entities per-say. That these legal entities bear the responsibilities of their actions.”
Jeff ran his hand through his head. “So, whenever these rivers overflow and ruin someone’s livelihood, they are held responsible?”
“Exactly sir.” Williams primly replied. “You’ll need a state-appointed guardian to mandate what the river must do in order to pay off its debts. The guardian can collect a toll from boats, sell water to reservoirs or even charge rent to hydroelectric dams. Once the debt is paid off, the guardian is discharged, and the river becomes free to use once again.”
“And this is fair…?” said Jeff, agog.
“Very much so. Of course, these same rights are afforded to the objects with a wealth of precedent set before them.” Williams replied. “For example, if you were silly enough to swim in the river in the winter and catch a cold, then of course you are at fault. However, if Old Helena were to erupt and destroy your farmland, you can absolutely sue her for damages and collect from her geothermal plants. We find ourselves often suing earthquakes, hurricanes and the suchlike.”
“And have you ever sued a volcano?” Jeff said.
“Of course!” said Williams, picking up his things and turning to leave.
“What happened then?” Jeff said, glancing back at his family as they also were returning to their derelict belongings beside the river bank.
“I lost the case.” Williams primly replied. “In fact, it was the volcano who had been upset by my mining activities and it was up to me to make due amends to the property.”
Jeff sighed. This was a strange country he had moved to. This was a very strange country indeed.
The further trolls and dwarfs got from the mountains, the more that bloody, bloody Koom Valley Mattered.
The parades were okay; the Watch had gotten good at keeping them apart, and anyway there were still in the morning when everyone was still mostly somber. But when the dwarf bars and the troll bars emptied out in the evening, hell went for a stroll with its sleeves rolled up.
In the bad old days, the Watch would find business elsewhere, and only turned up when stewed tempers had run their course. Then they’d bring out the hurry-up wagon and arrest every troll and dwarf too drunk, dazed, or dead to move. It was simple.
That was then. Now there was too many dwarfs and trolls –no, mental correction– the city had been enriched by vibrant, growing communities of dwarfs and trolls… and there was more… yes., call it venom in the air. Too much ancient politics, too many chips handed down from shoulder to shoulder. Too much boozing, too.
Terry Pratchett - Thud
The Clamzorians are animists. They believe every rock and tree and river has its own spirit. And those spirits are legal people. This on its own is not unusual – even New Zealand gives rivers legal personhood. But in Clamzoria, if a flood destroys your home, you sue the river.
If you win, then the river is in debt to you. The government can assign a guardian to the river to force it to pay off its debts, and that guardian gets temporary custody of all the river’s property. He or she can collect a toll from boats, sell water to reservoirs, and charge rent to hydroelectric dams. Once the river has paid off its debt, the guardian is discharged, and the river becomes free to use once again.
Clamzorian precedent governs when you may or may not sue objects. If you swim in the freezing river in the dead of winter, and catch cold, that’s on you. But if a hurricane destroys your property, you can absolutely sue the wind for damages, and collect from windmills. Suits against earthquakes, volcanoes, and the like are dead common. Suits against diseases happen occasionally. Sometimes someone will sue something even more abstract – a custom, an emotion, a concept.
Legend tells of a lawyer who once sued Death itself for wrongful death, a class action suit on behalf of everyone who ever lived. The judge found in favor of the plaintiff, but the appointed custodian despaired at ever collecting the judgment – the few morticians and undertakers in the realm couldn’t afford even a fraction of the damages. In a stroke of genius, he went after the military, and charged them for the right to kill enemy soldiers. The military grumbled, but eventually gave in: fair is fair.
Scott Alexander - Slate Star Codex