I. Introduction

Inequality, hypocrisy and conservatism are the core tenets upon which the Paridonesian dystopia is built—a harsh generalization, to be sure, but nevertheless one which is true. This is, after all, a society fueled by the wants and desires of an entrenched, obstinate aristocracy, where the basic rights of all people hardly ever outweigh the privileges of the elite. It is a culture that is grounded upon exploitation, and that finds solace in both its own injustices and in the rigid, meaningless traditions of a bygone era. Protests from its defenders aside, Paridonesian civilization is profoundly unjust. Indeed, it is pathetic in its artificiality; in its panicked, reactionary attempts at maintaining order and control. Looking inward on itself, Paridon sees only justification for its wrongs, and ignores the foul products of its vaunted genius. In celebrating itself, Paridonesian culture has spawned depravity, racism, rampant crime, social neurosis, and oligarchic despotism. Ridicule other domains, other people, though it may, Paridon is undeniably the most backward civilization in these Lands of Mist, and its wounds are entirely self-inflicted.

II. Why?: The Root of the Problem

When analyzing their own culture, the Paridonesians do not see mistakes. The thousand ills that plague the City of Fog are not, it is generally maintained, faults or errors; rather, they are simply the necessary and unavoidable by-products of an advanced civilization.

The fact that Paridonesian society is the most highly developed in existence is indisputable, and even its dissidents cannot deny this fact. Paridon is at the pinnacle of social, economic, political and technological evolution, possessing a government of representation, a booming industrial sector, conveniences without par, and academic knowledge that is centuries ahead of any rival.

But of course everything comes at a price. With Paridon, technological and academic superiority—revolvers and factories, electricity and photography, medical expertise and institutes of higher learning—are counterbalanced by the problems they generate. Everything that is wrong with Paridonesian culture is a result of those same things which make it great, and it is in this manner that the price is paid by the Paridonesians themselves.

For example:

Factories constitute the very backbone of the Paridonesian socio-economic structure. They manufacture the firearms which are exchanged in foreign lands for grain and other foodstuffs. They produce the fineries and creature comforts that make life easier for the average family—porcelain dishes that are easier to clean, glass window panes to keep out the chill, and so forth. Lacking these brownstone monoliths, half the city's population would be unemployed, and Paridon itself would consequently erupt into panic and violence.

And yet the factories are also horroric things that crush families, pollute the water and the air, and bolster the iron-clad power of the corrupt elite through profit and the ability to terminate "difficult" employees. The need to keep production high, so as to maintain Paridon's necessary levels of food importation, keeps fathers trapped at their poorly-ventilated and dimly-lit work stations for twelve to fourteen hours a day, six or seven days a week. Miserable and unsanitary conditions drive laborers to alcoholism, and wrecks the health of young children, who, like their fathers and mothers, are forced to work in order to supplement the family income.

But looking at this, Paridon does not see a problem in need of a solution. Patting itself on the back, it instead sees the misery its advancement has created and says, calmly, that there is no other way. How else is a great society supposed to function? Paridon needs factories, correct? And factories need workers, correct? Then (the answer invariably comes) people must work in the factories. That lives are ruined and family torn apart by the needs of production is not avoidable—it is the cost of high living, of being the greatest, most powerful and most advanced civilization anywhere.

III. What One is Taught: Inequality, Superiority and the Cult of Authority

"We are all Adam's children, but silk makes the difference."

- Thomas Fuller, M.D., Gnomologia

This is a very unequal society. The aristocracy and gentry can afford, at the expense of everyone else, to live in absolute splendor. Armies of servants are maintained in order to perform every unwanted duty. Laws favor the landed, the titled, the wealthy, the well-born and the educated. In order to vote, one must be an adult male, in possession of at least an acre of land, or else have a net worth of £10,000, minimum. These latter two requirements do not pertain to the titled, who may vote regardless of their material assets.

The upper class sees absolutely nothing wrong with these arrangements, and not simply because it is beneficial to them. The elite truly do believe that they are superior, and they have ensured that everyone else is taught this same belief from a very early age. Who but they are better equipped to rule? Not the uncouth, ignorant mob, that's for sure. The aristocracy possesses all the traits necessary to rule, and certainly Paridon functions better under the austere guidance of intelligent, eloquent and influential men, as opposed to the rash whims of the unwashed masses. The only alternative to rule by the aristocracy is, in the upper class mind, rule by the mob. And certainly no one wants the vagrants of Tenter's Vale or the madmen of Eppington running city government. That such a government would, perhaps, employ subhumans sends a shudder down the Paridonesian spine.

So as to ensure that such a thing never occurs, a sort of authority-worship has taken hold amongst Paridon's upper- and middle-classes. Everyone with even a marginal education is taught the benefits of deferring to one's betters. Children are taught the importance of hierarchy from the day they begin learning to read, and the Council works hard to ensure that the lower-classes know how important it is for everyone to play their part in maintaining peace and stability. The aristocracy worship authority because they are, in essence, worshipping themselves, preserving their place at the top. The middle classes, on the other hand, cater to the cult of authority because they wish nothing more than to be on top. And finally, the lower classes debases themselves at the aristocracy's altar because it is the only thing they know.

IV. What One Feels: Strain, Dread and Class-Consciousness

"Fear is, I believe, a most effective tool in destroying the soul of an individual—and the soul of a people."

- Anwar El-Sadat, "The Second Revolution."

Paridon has suffered greatly over its two hundred years of imprisonment, and the resultant turmoil has profoundly affected the mindset and outlook of the city's inhabitants. The Paridonesian view of life is overwhelmingly bleak. The Fog is ever present, inescapable, and shows no signs of evaporating. The city is isolated from the rest of the world, and must import everything which it cannot produce locally. The constant noise of carriages, people and factories has worn thin the Paridonesian spirit, and few harbor any great ambitions or lofty goals. These set of circumstances has strained the Paridonesian frame of mind, driving its people into adopting various jaded coping mechanisms. Some become stalwart and stoic, burying their emotions beneath layers of intellectualism and rationality. Others grow decadent, seeking out pleasure wherever they can in order to forget about the bleakness of reality. Still others become obsessed with the trivial—marriage, status, gossip, and so forth, in an attempt to infuse some greater meaning into their lives.

Subconsciously, however, all Paridonesians live in constant fear: fear of the Fog, fear of isolation, fear of social unrest. At any moment, the Fog could Descend again, utterly consuming the city and sending its inhabitants to who-knows-where. Even worse, the Fog could alter itself so as to prevent contact with the outside world entirely, which would result in complete anarchy and incalculable suffering. Additionally, there is always the fear of revolution. The elite knows how they treat the lower classes, and they are aware that the number of slums in Paridon are far more numerous than the middle- or upper-class neighborhoods. They know that they are the minority. If the lower classes ever got it into their heads to overthrow the system, the elite would most certainly be punished for the injustices they have wrought.

Furthermore, the upper class is keenly aware of who they are and what they represent. The class divide in Paridon is deep and wide, with everyone knowing everyone else's place. Paridonesian society is not upwardly mobile, and only on exceedingly rare occasions is some family or other admitted into the ranks of their betters. The aristocracy only rarely suffers itself to mingle with the bourgeoisie. The bourgeoisie is terrified by the thought of being caught socializing with the lower classes. The lower classes toil ceaselessly to earn a place among the bourgeoisie, although they know that such a thing will probably never happen in their lifetimes. Thus it is that all the classes run around in circles, attempting vainly to preserve their status or advance themselves one ladder rung, all the while forgetting and ignoring the possibility of changing the system itself.

V. What One Thinks: Rationality and Atheism

"Religions die when they are proved to be true. Science is the record of dead religions."

- Oscar Wilde

No civilization in the Lands of Mist is more reasoned and more rational than Paridon. The importance of a well-ordered, deductive mind is paramount among its educated citizens, who believe wit and intelligence are arguably as important as affluence and heredity. Of course, the aristocracy is confident that only they possess the mental capacity needed to appreciate a fine education, and thereby become rational, thinking individuals—but the basic principle is still there. Cultivation of the mind is considered one of those traits that sets the upper class apart from the rest of society, and Paridon apart from the rest of the world.

Paridonesians believe in no gods—and have not for centuries—for admitting to or acknowledging the existence of a higher power would inhibit society's ability to both worship itself and find solace in its own failings. Divinity translates into perfection, and so were the Paridonesians to accept divinity into their lives, they would then have no other choice but to continue improving themselves and the world in which they live, since everything about Paridon is so clearly imperfect. If Paridon had gods, moreover, its citizens could no longer rest on the laurels of their insincere efforts at improvement. They could no longer contend with a untroubled soul that they had done their best given the circumstances. There would always exist in the back of their minds the fear of punishment-after-death, whether that punishment was resultant of not working harder, doing more, or being better. This would, in turn, necessitate change—something which is truly terrifying to anyone with a stake in the power structure.

Consequently, the Fog is not attributed to divine wrath, but rather to some force of nature that cannot be understood. Magic does exist, as does the paranormal—but these are simply unexplainable phenomena, and as any educated Paridonesian will tell you, they, like electricity and the weather, will one day be understood along strictly scientific lines.

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