This was written December 14th, 2025
Immutable Perfection
Ah, Midas, the eternal cautionary tale against greed, about being careful what you wish for. A king so possessed with greed that he wished for what seemed like the obvious choice, to make everything he touched all the more valuable, only to realize the mistake of his ways. And eventually, for this wish to bring about his own demise. That’s the one people all know and remember, correct? Well, that’s not the one told where I come from.
Once, long ago, there was a king named Midas, and he had a lovely kingdom which he ruled fairly. He’d had a long and successful reign, and everyone looked up to him. He’d had everything, a lovely wife, a lovely daughter, and was proud of the life he had led, proud of the life he’d obtained. His city had flourished, his followers were the envy of everyone. Even neighboring Kingdoms respected him and what he’d accomplished, despite all the battles they’d fought. And greatest of all feats, he was given a boon by the Gods for the favours he’d granted them as they passed for anonymous, which he had as of yet not used.
Alas, he was growing older and wearier, and was not the man he once was. The continuous warring, the constant changes brought forth by progress, things were not as they used to be, did not seem as simple and glorious as they once were. He was ageing, and his body could barely keep up, his mind was also no longer as pliable as it once had been.
He kept looking around and longing for the old days, he kept looking upon his growing daughter and missing the little girl she’d once been, instead of the mature woman she would soon be. Yet, he knew as all us do that time does not slow, time does not revert, time only moves on and pushes us ahead, like powerless marionettes. And he felt the duty he had towards his kingdom, towards his people, towards his family, so he did not falter, and stayed honourable.
Ah, but if only it had remained an internal strife, allowing him not to stray from the honourable path he had crossed. Alas, tragedy must often strikes, and is oft unexpected. And tragedy did strike, as his daughter got mortally sick, with no cure in sight. A rare disease that was slowly destroying her body from the insides. And thus, he opted to finally use his boon to bring his daughter back to full health. Alas, even the gods could not defy the Fates, for the thread of her life had already been measured and cut, and so it must be.
Yet, the boon was still available, and thus he wished he could make her glorious again, in her death. Be seen as he’d seen her, so she could forever be remembered as he saw her. And thus, he was granted his wish. He was warned that now, with a simple touch, the object of his touch would forever be frozen, as they were, but be given the elegance and glory no thing but gold could possess. But unlike the tales you’ve heard, this was not a simple involuntary reaction, this was something he had to consciously enact.
And thus, proudly, bravely, his daughter accepted her fate. A ceremony was held in the center of the city. All the people came to witness it, from near and far, a testament to their influence. She was to be exposed right there for the rest of time. She eventually took a pose, took a deep breath, told her loved ones how much she had appreciated them, and was glad of her life well lived, and told her father she was ready. The transformation was instantaneous and wonderful. All that witnessed it were amazed. He beauty had been perfectly captured, and she was now more magnificent than ever. Considering her pre-determined fate, this was not considered a tragedy, but instead an uplifting tale, and all felt inspired by what had transpired…except for Midas and his immediate entourage.
Both the Queen and King were struck with deep grief, from which none escaped. As he rested upon his throne, Midas, longing for days of past, wishing himself to be back in simpler time, was eventually struck with the notion that, which he could not revert time, he could still forever pause it. He had been driven mad with grief, and his intentions corrupted. Yet, it was his wife’s own request that was the turning point.
Alas, she could no longer see herself live without her daughter, and thus requested she be allowed to join her, for all of eternity. Her husband, sorrowfully, acquiesced her demand. Thus, in the middle of the square, it appeared like two statues had been erected, of a loving mother, caring for her lovely daughter. And that they had subsequently been lacquered in gold. Yet, we all know they were veritable women having been transformed, through a monstrous, albeit painless process, into solid gold. On the daughter’s face, one could see a chagrined smile, along with a hopeful expression. Meanwhile, the mother wore a strong expression, yet a terribly chagrined one, and along her left cheek, a single golden tear, “dripping”.
From this point on, the mad King had only one objective in mind, bringing company to his beloved family, for if they had not been allowed to live a long and full life, then their eternal existence would at least not be a lonely one. He would preserve his kingdom, its glory immortalized. Forever frozen in time, none able to dislodge it from its perfection.
And thus, one silent night, Midas decide to enact his plan. He started with his own palace and servants, gradually turning each of them, while they were attending duties, into frozen simulacra of life, moving from person to person before anyone, in their torpor, could realize what the horrifying state unfolding before them. Then, he moved on to the staff that was presently resting, unaware they had entered their final and eternal slumber.
Before news of any of this could spread, he moved on to the homes of the different citizens, transforming them one by one while they still lay dormant. Finally, once ready, he moved out to the remaining patrons that were, for some reason, active at night. He also used the cover of the night to camouflage what was happening, able to not only catch most people off-guard, but also unaware of their fellow men’s fate.
It had been a rather busy night for dear old Midas, a spectre moving from unsuspecting victim to unsuspecting victim, but he eventually succeeded, his kingdom at last eerily silent, with not an ounce of beauty missing from the inhabitants. If anything, he thought, they beauty had been enhanced. But despite his success, once the first rays of sunshine appeared, a few statues could be seen donning an expression of pure terror, realizing what they were about to be subjected to, yet neither prepared nor willing, to meet such fate.
As he walked through what should at this point be called a graveyard, or the aftermath of a massacre, yet beheld no such gore, he realized this would be insufficient, he should go all the way. Thereby, he busied himself to turning all that remained into gold: all objects, all buildings, even the streets themselves. And lest we forgot, even the animals, even the meals, were to be consecrated in this baptism of gold. Nothing would be spared. A perfect copy of his beloved Kingdom would be forever preserved. His Masterpiece.
Right before dusk, he at last sat on his throne, which he had, by then, also transmuted, he took a last look on his surroundings, and with a proud look, declared to himself: “At last, it shall be preserved in its perfection. No more change, no more strife, a pure and perfect existence upon which all of humanity can reflect and envy.”
As the sun was descending beyond the horizon, the last rays of light gradually vanishing, Midas, in great weariness, through an alchemical process, at last joined the rest of his kingdom. And on his weary face could be glimpsed, through the exhaustion, a look of pure satisfaction.