Formosa, an Invisible City
The inhabitants of the city of Formosa have two modes of perceiving history. The emotional side believes they’ve been living here for thousands of years, through oral traditions, and the logical side reminds them no one could trace back five generations here. The inhabitants paradoxically embody these two modes seamlessly despite what outsiders would consider confusing at best, and delusional at worst.
The imbued perceptions are partially brought about by the last wave of immigrants, which made up a third of the populace, from a land across the sea with a much longer history, and partially brought about by an eagerness to play ignorance to the fact they are descendants of bandits, pirates, criminals, with dotted lineages. They led themselves to believe they possess a history that doesn’t exist, as no archaeological artifacts age more than 200 years.
The paradox permeates their identity too — are they the heirs of a long civilization on the eve of extinction or are they pioneers of a new city-state? the confusion causes the inhabitants to live vicariously but speak meekly. Inside the city’s tall fortification, they built prosperous guilds and trades. The wealth and security afford them extravagances but don’t seem to afford them self-esteem. Elders always tell their youths they didn’t deserve this good fortune.
At the city’s port of entry, the inhabitants form long lines to welcome the daily arrival of foreigners. Upon their disembarkment, they are given lavish gifts and licenses to speak at the city’s assembly. everyone listens, from top to bottom, even those who are too senile to leave their houses. They express their opinions quietly and confer jurisdiction on foreigners. Foreigners’ opinions become the public opinion and become the public policy.
At first, foreigners don’t think they deserve the attention as in their own countries they’d be mere specks of dust but grew used to the power they’re given in Formosa: they hold no office, but preside over courts; they don’t run for elections but they legislate laws; they don’t have divine powers but they pontificate omens.
Upon returning to their home countries, they tell their respective governments of Formosa’s servitude, and their governments readily invite the Formosan magistrates for an annual tribute and pledge of allegiance, which they reliably oblige.
Even though it’s generations removed from the days of banditry and piracy, it’s almost as if Formosans are still waiting for the return of a supreme overlord who would provide legitimacy over their confused history and identity.
