GOOD DEEDS / PART ONE

A Short Story

There was a guy, not so young but not too old either. He used to live in a wonderful hill. He and his family were pretty much self-sufficient and they never had to take the steep path to get to the City for any reason. So, for as long as he was remembering his past, he had spent all of his life right there, along with his beautiful wife, his look-alike descendants and all the animals in the farm who provided him with plenty of food and enough of jackets.
He was a really well-respected man by all the other inhabitants and he was kind of what we would call the “mayor” of that region; although no administration was ever formally structured. While the others had placed him –even unofficially - in such a high position, he never enforced anyone do anything. He was for dialogue and against of any kind of peremptoriness. People had discerned that and that’s why they were always taking his estimations seriously and they were complying with his suggestions. Despite all, he never deemed himself as more special than the others but he had the needed perception to be aware of the fact that people thought of him with great admiration and they were counting to his decency and his altruism.
The place itself was an out and out fertile region and it would definitely seem an ideal destination and kind of utopian to all of us who live in the contemporary world. But that hill, which name was Noland Hill, wasn’t always this way. It used to be like all the other places of this universe. Its people used to making it seem beautiful and ugly and quiet and paranoid and chaotic and everything; all at the same time together, as we do ourselves, as long as we breathe.
But one day they decided to go on differently. As simple as that and –as later proved- as effectively as that.
Despite the easy anastrophe of their minds, it took too much effort to reach the high quality-life level they did. It took them several years to learn caring foremost about their Hill and later on about their homes and their personal interests.
Years had passed and generations had followed one another and this closed society was just getting better and better. They had got to a point where all possessed the same amount of goods, they were co-living peacefully and they didn’t have a special name for their different metaphysical worries. Their condition of living was nice and not boring.
But all the methodology that leaded in such progression doesn’t matter for us to know now because it was created solely by them and they only knew how to apply it precisely. If we were ever to do something like what they did, we should figure our own way out on our own.
Years went by and when it was his time to go, “mayor” had already been sure that he had handed down his ethic qualities to his sons and they did also when it was their turn to. Of course, after all that time, more and more progenies from other families had managed to obtain those qualities too, as an outcome of observation and mimicry of their “superiors”. But this fact didn’t lead them to antagonism. Everyone was very cooperative with the rest and no problem had occurred about, for example, which direction should be followed in one case or another, which, as it was natural, was arising once and again. Either way, when they didn’t know what to do about something, they were using as a solution the institution of voting. The population had increased but only slightly, so they were still in position to do it by the show of hands. Everyone could take part in this procedure and no one was excluded but the juveniles...