How To Cheat Fate For Fun and Profit

Let me put forth a scenario I'm fairly certain all of you have been in at some point: You are the ruler of a prosperous city state/kingdom/empire. Things are going well; your treasury's full, your borders are quiet, and your family is happy and growing.

I know, I'm basically narrating your Tuesday, but hear me out, because odds are that sooner or later, something or someone is going to come along and threaten to destroy everything you've built. Sooner or later, your good fortune will attract the universe's unwanted attention, and you need to be prepared when it does. There are few certainties in life, but one of them is this:

One day, you will be the unfortunate recipient of a doleful prophecy.

It might be delivered by a blood-red comet, a wandering blind man, or a wailing street soothsayer. It might be about your only son, your kingdom at large, or your own bad self. It could be as specific as:

"And he will be the brother of the children in his house—their father, too, the husband and son of the very woman who gave birth to him."

Or as vague as:

"If Croesus goes to war, he will destroy a great empire."

The details will vary, but the gist will be the same: something unspeakable is going to happen, sooner rather than later. It's one of those unavoidable features of living large that nobody tells you; all your happiness and prosperity is constantly teetering on a razor's edge over the yawning pit of disaster. The minute that prophecy reaches your ears, chances are good you're soon going to learn an ironic lesson about hubris or greed or the inevitability of misfortune.

Now, it's at this point that most people lose their heads. After all, they tell themselves, they're powerful, competent, self-made people. They're not some puppet on fate's strings, they're the master of their own destinies. This thought is where it all goes wrong. You see, trying to fight fate only brings it on faster. To demonstrate, let's look at a few examples.

Example 1:

Here's a classic: you receive a prophecy that your first born child will kill you and take your throne. Bad news, right? So, naturally wanting to prevent this unfortunate outcome, you decide to get the kid out of the way. But they're your own flesh and blood, and you're not a monster! So you give them to a trusted friend with instructions to leave them on a barren hillside to be taken by the wolves and the wind.

Problem solved, right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

Inevitably, that child of yours will be picked up by sympathetic farmers, raised by the aforementioned wolves, or turn out to be some kind of demi-god and raise themselves. And once they reach adulthood, it's only a matter of time before they show up on your doorstep. At that point, it's terminal. Compose your eulogy now, because through single combat or tragic accident, that kid's going to be the death of you.

Example 2:

In the reverse, say you receive a prophecy that your firstborn (or, hell, even your second-born, who's to say?) will be killed in some extremely specific manner. For the sake of argument, let's say they'll "perish while gazing at their own reflection." So, naturally, you take all the mirrors from the palace, make sure every reflective surface in your kingdom is dulled, and just to be safe, you make sure they never leave the reach of your watchful house guard.

Surely that'll do the trick, right?

...Cut to a week later, when they catch sight of themselves in the still water of their nightly bath, and so entranced by their own reflection, they fall in and drown ingloriously in the tub.

Example 3:

Let's remove the personal angle and zoom out for a moment. Go big or go home, right? Let's say your prophecy du jour says something like:

"When the sun rises in the west, ruin will come to your kingdom."

Impossible right? Of course! It's basic astrophysics. So, you sit down, secure in the knowledge that you and your realm are functionally invincible. What's the point in worrying about your own safety when your success is guaranteed by the laws of physics?

So you let your guard down, hold a few more festivals than is strictly necessary, and let your kingdom run on auto-pilot for a few years. What's the harm?

Until, of course, someone shows up on your western border, waving that fancy new sun-themed flag they sewed that morning. Now, you're screwed. Now it's time to open the gates and prepare to (hopefully) die with dignity.

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So how can we learn from these examples? More importantly, how can we avoid making examples of ourselves?

It all comes down to a question of interpretation. You see, a prophecy like this is a classic no-win scenario. If you act against it, you only make it come true faster. If you fail to act on it, you're just as doomed. The universe is trying to teach you that you can't fight destiny. Resisting the irresistible only leads to catastrophe.

But we're not here to listen to the universe. Listening to the universe is for chumps.

Here's the thing about prophecies: they're essentially legally binding contracts. And, like any good contract, there are always loopholes. You can't fight fate, but you can make fate's own overly specific legalese work for you.

Step 1: Take a few deep breaths.

The first and most important step is to approach the situation calmly. No matter how upsetting a prophecy of doom may be, acting rashly is the best way to get yourself Oedipus'd. If you can keep a cool head, your chances of getting out of this situation intact go up dramatically. Remember that you'll most likely have plenty of time to take action; prophecies only come true at the precise moment when their tragic irony will be greatest.

Step 2: Practice acceptance.

If you want to speed your doom, you should reject the prophecy out of hand. Throw the oracle in prison, scorn the signs around you, declare yourself the puppet of no man or god. If you're considering doing any of these things, take a moment to entertain the possibility that this might be the hubris you're being punished for. You have to cultivate understanding and acceptance that once a prophecy is made, it is one hundred percent guaranteed to come true at some point or another. Scoffing at destiny is like kicking a cosmic wasp's nest. You have to learn to roll with the punches rather than trying to block them. Then, and only then, can you move on to step 3.

Step 3: Identify what you're working with.

So, you've received the prophecy, taken a step back from your knee-jerk reaction, and accepted that it will come true. Now, you can begin the process of twisting it to your advantage. Let's re-examine the classic example, your child killing you and taking your throne. Say you have this to work with:

"There shall come a day, be ye sure, when ye shall fall to the child of your loins, and they shall sit your throne."

Wonderful. You now know two things with ironclad certainty:

1.) Your child will kill you at some point.

2.) They will succeed you on the throne.

These flashy facts seem to be the most important feature of this prophecy. However, it's what not included here that's truly crucial. When, for instance, will your child kill you? Will it be at the height of your power and prosperity, or after a long and fulfilling life? Will they run you through with a spear in a bloody coup, or will they just shut off the life support? Will they come to the throne hailed as a hero for overthrowing the infanticide-happy tyrant (you, in case you were wondering) or as your carefully groomed heir? Pick apart what's actually being said by the prophecy. Oftentimes, they'll be trickily worded. "No man of woman born." "Not by the hand of man will he fall." The details are crucial, so make yourself intimately familiar with them.

Step 4: Do the twist.

Now that you've examined the problem in detail, accepted the truth of your situation, and resolved to proceed with both eyes open, you can begin to beat destiny at its own game. Remember that prophecy works by subverting expectations; by twisting the prophecy back on itself, you can turn even the direst of prognostications into profit and success. Every prediction has weak points, and because all prophecies come true one hundred percent of the time, they essentially back themselves into an ontological corner. Let's continue with our previous example.

"There shall come a day, be ye sure, when ye shall fall to the child of your loins, and they shall sit your throne."

We've identified the problem: That your child will kill you and take your throne. Now, we take control of the situation. Because the prophecy failed to specify exactly how and when your kid will shuffle you off this mortal coil, those are now yours to control. Hold off on the barren hillside, and consider instead raising your children in a loving, caring household. Once they reach the age of reason, explain the details of the prophecy to them, and then instruct them in no uncertain terms to mercy-kill you when you've reached, say, ninety-eight. You'll then get to live out a long and successful reign, secure in the knowledge that your succession is secure. So long as you follow the prophecy to the letter, you've essentially bought yourself a get-out-of-tragedy-free card. The secret here is to conquer the situation with kindness, not hungry wolves.

Will "Going to war destroy a great empire?" Excellent! Time to give your vassal states a little more independence, pass a few democratic reforms, re-brand your empire as "The People's Republic of So and So" and crank up your war machine. After all, your empire can't be destroyed by your overreach if it's not technically an empire.

Is "ruin going to come to your people when the sun rises in the west?" Have your carpenters make a big wooden sun, name the family dog "Ruin" and have a parade at the western gate. Then, proceed with a long and happy reign secure in the knowledge that no sun-flag waving barbarians will be knocking at your gate any time soon.

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It might seem like cheating, but then, so is prophecy. Predicting the future futzes with the normal flow of causality. It warps the fabric of reality around a series of technicalities, bending the infinite possibilities of life into a single, morally tidy outcome. Striving against it pointless, so why not strive with it? Do everything in your power to ensure that the prophecy comes true on your own terms. Become a master of cosmic Aikido and use the fates' own momentum against them. Even those of us who don't rule our own city states are presented with no-win scenarios. Reject the premise of question. Change the parameters of the test.

Because at the end of the day, you can't fight fate.

But you can manipulate it.