* * *

The king received the long rolled-up sheet of paper from his attendant and said, “Thank you,” but didn’t mean it. He found something inherently unsatisfying about looking at plans, they just made him want to see the actual finished thing. Also the technical detail went right over his head. But this design had been delayed in its progress through the various preapproval stages and the architect had an appointment at planning tomorrow to receive feedback, so he couldn’t put it off.

But first he was going to eat his dinner, so he sent the attendant away. Dinner tonight was a bland vegetable stew and flatbread. The food wasn’t enjoyable, but then food wasn’t something you enjoyed. It was something you did alone, quickly, before anyone saw. Even Clarence left him alone when he ate.

The king wondered what other people ate. Was his food particularly fine or was it the same stuff everyone else had? He didn’t know. Nobody ever talked about food and if he raised the subject people would lose respect for him.

The king finished his food and returned to the plans. He unrolled the paper and laid it on the table by the window. The paper rolled itself back up. He searched vainly for something heavy enough to keep the paper in place—a book perhaps, or a cup—but he couldn’t find anything. His attendants had tidied everything away.

He could call them back. But he was fed up with people doing stuff for him. He wanted to sort this out for himself.

The king removed his shoes and placed one on the middle of either end of the paper; this worked except now the corners rolled inward. He moved his shoes into the top corners and held the bottom corners flat with his hands. This was better. He could see the plans properly now.

But he couldn’t pick up his pencil, which lay on the windowsill. He needed his pencil to make notes on the plans. But if he let go of the plans they’d roll up again.

“Bugger,” said the king.

Then Clarence leaped up onto the table and sat on one corner of the paper, freeing up one of the king’s hands. The king used the free hand to pick up his pencil.

“Thanks, Clarence,” said the king.

“Not at all, Your Highness,” purred Clarence.

The king tapped the pencil against his teeth as he cast his eye over the plans, which were for a new forestry office building. The architect had coped with the limited space available by designing the building in a shape akin to a neat, evenly spaced cluster of trees. The building stood on a series of sturdy “trunks,” three stories high, each of which contained a stairwell: on the top of each trunk was mounted a hexagonal polygon containing a further six stories. This had the appearance of a very stylized mass of foliage. The polygons were linked by walkways. Yet as well as having an original, apt, and even witty design, the building was also practical—the upper floors would receive a lot of natural light, the lack of which was an increasing problem in the more built-up areas of the city. The lower floors, which would be quite dark, were to be used for filing and so on.