The Interpreter of Bells: A Parable about Outsourced Judgment
By Jereme Peabody
Mountain pillars rose in careful intervals around the city of Auralin.
Each pillar was crowned with a bell of a different size and shape.
The bells were older than the castle walls.
Some said they were as old as the mountain itself.
Interpreters of the Bells would climb the towers every dawn to capture the patterns sung by the mountain.
They would assemble in the central chamber by mid-morning, debate, interpret, and deliver the message to the city's council.
Climbing the pillars was a dangerous job.
Many had slipped on ice.
Many had misjudged a step.
Some never returned.
Still, new Interpreters were always chosen.
One ordinary day, a merchant arrived with a novel device.
It was called a Bell Augur.
The Augur was placed beneath the central tower, polished and calm, its surface etched with fine lines that caught the light.
It could hear all the bells at once.
With careful tuning, It could reduce their many voices into a single, settled response.
Amazed by the speed and clarity, the council welcomed it eagerly.
Former Interpreters were trained not to climb, but to tend.
They learned how to clean the etched surface.
How to adjust its dials.
How to listen for slight drifts in its phrasing and adjust for them.
At first, they still climbed the towers.
If only to confirm.
Then less often.
Then only when something seemed unusual.
Over time, the Interpreters stopped going up entirely.
Those who remained still gathered each morning.
But now they stood around the Augur instead of one another.
Their numbers fewer.
The bells indicate nominal seasonal weather.
Spring crops can be planted.
A favorable wet season is expected, with a chance of mild flooding.
The words were always calm.
Always complete.
Always confident.
Apprentices were trained on the Augur from the beginning.
They learned how to rely on its readings and how to recognize its preferred tones.
No one taught them how the bells felt through their hands,
or how the mountain smelled before a storm.
Years passed.
The bells rang, as they always had.
But fewer people paused to listen.
No one needed to.
And the city prospered.
One winter, the sound changed.
It was subtle.
The sort of change only noticed by someone who had once leaned into the wind at the top of a pillar.
The Augur spoke anyway.
Minor variation detected. Meaning inferred.
The bells suggests normal seasonal patterns for this time of year.
No immediate concern.
An Interpreter, one of the last who made the climb decades ago, tilted his head.
"That isn't what the east bell said,"
he said quietly.
The Augur Apprentices examined the device.
Historical patterns suggested the reading still held.
Dials were adjusted correctly.
Its charge was steady.
No further action was required.
But the snow fell earlier that year.
Cold settled in heavier than usual.
Ice formed in places it never had before.
Entire crops were lost before they could be harvested.
The bells continued to ring.
Different now.
The Augur paused longer than usual.
Signal incomplete. Adjusting interpretation.
Recalibrating.
The Apprentices shifted their eyes, uncertain what to do.
The Augur came back to life after it settled itself.
The bells reading points to steady weather.
No immediate concern.
No one climbed the pillars to see why.
The Eastern Interpreter stepped forward, hands clenched.
"We should listen ourselves,"
he said.
The council fell silent, considering the Interpreter's request.
The Augur's voice filled the chamber once more, smooth and reassuring.
Clarity has been restored.
No immediate concerns to note.
Reassured by the Augur, the council dismissed the Eastern Interpreter's request.
The Interpreter looked toward the towers one last time, with sadness.
He realized, with a sudden quiet certainty, that even if he climbed now,
he no longer trusted what he would hear.
Outside, the bells continued to ring.
The city waited for their meaning.
And the city answered, confident it no longer needed to listen.