11 - Uncertainty in Medicine: How We Die
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Welcome to the icy planet of Gethin in the kingdom of Karhaid. Along a treacherous mountain path, Lord Barasti picks his way through ice and wind and snow. He carries in his bags half the year's yield from his orchards, and as many riches as he could gather. He hopes the tribute will be sufficient for the foretellers, a group of seers said to be able to glimpse the future. Lord Barasti knows the answer he seeks is not cheap. He wants to know the unknowable. His question? On what day will I die? When Lord Barasti finally reaches the foreteller's stronghold, they accept his offering. And so he asks his question. They enter their trance, disappearing into the darkness of their visions. Barasti waits anxiously.
When they finally emerge, their answer is simple. You will die on the 19th day. Barasti panics. The 19th. But which month? Which year? When? He demands they tell him more. Begging. Threatening. Yelling. But the foretelling is done. Barasti makes the long journey home in a haze. This is The Nocturnists, Uncertainty in Medicine. I'm Emily Silverman, and today we're exploring the uncertainty of death. Death is one of life's only certainties, and yet also one of its greatest mysteries. It can be hard to talk about without resorting to vagaries or cliches. And so to kick off this episode, we turned to the late great sci-fi author Ursula Le Guin. Le Guin's novels are full of intricate world building, deep philosophy, and parables passed down through generations.
One of these parables from her novel, The Left Hand of Darkness, tells of Lord Barasti Rem Erip, a powerful man determined to undo the uncertainty of death. Back on planet Gethen, Barasti locks himself in a tower, counting down to the 19th of every month, refusing to eat and waiting for death. You will die on the 19th day. This answer becomes Barasti's curse. Six months pass, and then ten. He's driven mad by waiting. Meanwhile, his beloved, Herber of Gaggenor, watches on in agony. Barasti is unraveling, and there's nothing Herber can do to save him. So Herber himself decides to make the long journey to the foretellers. When he arrives, he is ragged, grief-stricken, with no fortune to offer. He falls to his knees.
Please, he begs, I will give you my life. The answer I seek is not for me, but for my love. The foretellers are moved by his passion, and so agree to answer his question. The asker always pays what he has to pay, warns the head foreteller. But Herber cannot imagine a greater price than the one he and Barasti are already paying. And so he goes quiet, thinking long and hard. Finally, he asks, How long will Barasti Rem-Er-Eep live? the foretellers gather and slip into their trance. A time later, they emerge. Their answer? Longer than Herber of Geginar. It is not the answer Herber had hoped for, but it is an answer. And so he begins his long journey home. When he arrives, he finds Barasti as bleak as ever in his tower, slumped over a great table of red stone, head in his hands.
My love, Herber says, I have been to the foretellers. I have received an answer. Barasti looks up, a light of hope flickering in his broken eyes. I asked them how long you will live, and their answer was that Barasti will live longer than Herber. Barasti absorbs the snooze. How long? You fool! You had one question and you did not ask on what day and month and year I will die? Consumed with rage, Barasti takes up the great table of redstone as if it were light as a tin can and brings it down on his love Herber's head, killing him instantly. He cannot stand anything after that, and he leaves the tower, but only to wander in lonely madness, searching for Herber. A month later, on the 19th, he takes his own life.
But by this point, he has, in a way, already been dead for a long time.
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