Why they REJECTED THE Noble Prize

Illustration: Shaer Reaz

The Supreme Grand Ruler squinted and coughed. Opposite to her, the Other Supreme Great Conqueror wanted to do the same, but in fear of being redundant, she raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat.

“You're telling me they won the Nobel Prize? I mean the real prize?” asked the Supreme Grand Ruler.
“Yes, but here's the catch…” replied the cowering Home Minister.
“I thought your job was to make sure only I received it,” barked the Other Supreme Great Conqueror.

“Excuse me, I don't think you quite got that right,” barked the Supreme Grand Ruler. “The Nobel Prize is our family right. My father before my father before my father, as you very well may know, was nominated for it – but fell into a conspiracy…”

“A conspiracy, really?” interrupted the Other Supreme Great Conqueror. “Everybody knows that's just some folklore you made up! Had it been our way, as you know very well, my husband's ex girlfriend's ex boyfriend's husband almost received it until of course, as you know very well, his plane crashed on its way to America.”

The Home Minister helplessly watched as the Leaders bickered about their hereditary right over the Nobel Prize. Outside, the city rejoiced. It is said the People has won the bid for the greatest honour a materialistic world can offer. And for the first time, the People could imagine of Great Prosperity.  Prosperity they could all share by auctioning and re-auctioning the Nobel Prize. The Home Minister shuddered by the thought of it. If they only knew.

Dark times awaited them.
The Nobel Prize sat on the red cushioned sofa, slightly dizzy from all the expected annual attention. It has been fed, cleaned and now shone a glittering golden more golden than its usual self. The lowlife Mugland stood behind it, jumping at its every flinch – a somewhat annoying behaviour after 112 years of bottomless pampering.

“Say, Thorbjorn, do you think they're ready yet? My arse is in morbid pain from all the sitting and waiting,” enquired the Nobel Prize. Thorbjorn Mugland was startled. Wiping off his drool, he responded, “Well, you know how it is with the People. They can never decide who'll keep you. And there is of course the Leaders who also want to keep you.”

“That's a futile argument, Thorbjorn,” commented the Nobel Prize, yawning and picking its nose. “I mean, we all know who took me to the finest dining this year. Better than Neruda on any given Wednesday. I still can't quite get over that crunching taste of those round croissants...”
“Fuchka? Ah yes, that was delightful,” concurred Thorbjorn, slurping in reminiscence.
The noise outside suddenly erupted and the doors swung open. Lungistud, in spite of his age, dashed inside the chambers, gasping. “They are ready, they are ready!”
---
The gathering at the Centre was large, unanticipated yet reassuring. The Nobel Prize was positioned in the middle of the crowd, the police surrounding it with batons to scare off any thieves or politicians who might want to bag it. Supreme Grand Leader and Other Supreme Great Conqueror emerged from either sides of the audience and the crowd was strikingly silenced by the Home Minister's waving hand.
“People, please be patient. The Supreme Grand Leader will speak now.”
Clearing her throat, the Supreme Grand Leader begun. “Dear People, it has been brought to our attention that you have won the Nobel Prize. While we salute your candour in bribing it to come so far into the greatest land that there ever will be, it must also be mentioned that perhaps, it was not the best of ideas. As you know, our land, while being the greatest on earth, is thriving – it cannot be denied that our thrive comes from the ambition of achieving greater than the greatest. We must not let a foolish Prize take away our zeal towards greatness and impede our thrive. We must not be distracted...”

“Nay nay, our thrive will be thrice of what it is now when I rule,” interrupted the Other Supreme Great Conqueror. “The Nobel Prize is not deserving of our greatness yet, and shall be even less deserving in the next tenure. Such evil shall not be tolerated amongst the People, for the People reign supreme.”

The Nobel Prize sat, confounded by the greatest land that there ever will be. Thorbjorn Mugland, sensing its discomfort quickly picked up the Prize and fought his way towards the exit. The crowd now roared in approval, surely the Leaders could not be wrong. Surely, the People knew better. Surely, the Nobel Prize must be another Westernized hoax that they were tricked into. While the crowd rejoiced, the Home Minister breathed in relief. He had done his job well.
---
The year 2033 was anticipated to be that of Great Prosperity. While the Leaders continued bickering, the People sat hungry outside, devoid of knowledge or courage. Their souls have been sucked out over the years with stupidity pills raving the market. Schools have been shut down; children could go to any drug store and buy a bottle of wisdom. The contents of these bottles were usually replaced by moronic, a new supplement that promised faster brain growth. Any institution that dared mention the Nobel Prize has been torched, any rebel hanged. The People have been silenced; there was no belief but the belief onto the Leaders. The greatest land that there ever will be, thrived.