The Dome That Needed North

The Dome That Needed North

A Satirical Picture Book Fable in Rhyme

By Forest Moss © 2025

He rose with a grin and a hologram chart,

A dome stretched from desert to glacial heart.

“It’s round, it’s secure, it’s impressively wide—

A freedom balloon with surveillance inside!”

“I’ve built us a dome using Patriot Cloud,

With ThoughtScan™ arrays and a Censoring Shroud!

No blizzards, no bickering, no facts out of date—

A hemisphere sealed to keep our land great.”

He flew to the North, where the forests breathe slow,

And frost writes its poems in crystalline snow.

“Such space going unused!” he exclaimed with a cheer,

“Let’s fold in the top—make our borders more clear!”

“They’re friendly up here—too reserved to resist.

A handshake, a treaty, a mutual list.

And once they agree that our dome fits just right,

They’ll sleep safe and warm in our Freedom White™ night.”

He promised clean weather, protection from harm,

A Harmony Fence™, and dome climate charm.

“Just sign with your wing and your worries will cease—

We’ll invoice the clouds and lease you some peace.”

But a goose stepped forth with her feathers held high,

Her eyes calm as dusk beneath cinnamon sky.

“No thanks,” she said gently. “We’re flattered, of course.

But we chart our own skies and follow our course.”

“Our rivers still run, and our map lines hold strong.

We prefer our own quiet to someone else’s song.

Though your dome may be lovely in radius and span,

We’re not seeking cover. We’re fine where we stand.”

He chuckled, then bristled—“Well, this isn't a feud!

Don’t confuse a proposal with something that's rude.

But if you decline, don’t expect the same rates—

The Dome’s special pricing expires on dates!”

The goose simply smiled as the snowfall grew deep.

She hummed like the wind where the treetops sleep.

“You seem quite invested in sealing your fate.

We’ll stay open to sky… you can close your own gate.”

The storm passed him by as he tweeted and spun,

Still posting new maps with the lines redrawn fun.

But the mountains stood still and the valleys breathed slow—

And the dome stayed a bubble, not something to grow.

Author’s Note

This fable is a satirical echo of a familiar pattern: when power tries to stretch itself just a bit farther—under the banner of “protection,” “unity,” or “freedom”—and finds quiet dignity standing in the way.

The Dome represents more than a fantasy of technology. It mirrors real-world attempts to seal, surveil, and standardize—often disguised as care. The polite northern lands represent places that resist not with shouting, but with stillness. With calm. With “no.”

Like its predecessor, The State That Politely Declined, this story was written for those who’ve watched noisy ambition try to envelope a neighbor it doesn't understand—and fail.

The character of Maple remains unchanged. She’s not here to argue. She’s here to endure.

—

🪵 From the Stump of Forest Moss:

If you’ve just stumbled into the clearing and wonder what these fables are all about, step softly over to:

👉 rossboulto9.wixsite.com/the-trade-that-wasn/post/welcome-read-me-first

That’s where the lantern first lit.

—Forest Moss 🌲