The Human Condition - Ch 109: A Day That Lives in History

Character Wiki

<< First | < Previous | Next >

“I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure that it will cost us to maintain this Declaration and support and defend these states. Yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory–I can see that the end is more than worth all the means and that posterity will triumph in that day’s transaction.” - John Adams

~

Eventually, Rodah did manage to find somewhere to eat, but the sad, soggy waffles they had served her were a paltry prize in comparison to what she had been anticipating from Waldo’s. Her anger had subsided a little as the complaints from her stomach disappeared, but she was still in a bad mood as she stood on the street corner outside the restaurant.

Rummaging down to the bottom of her pocket, past her wallet and the physical receipt that many human establishments for some reason still insisted on printing, she pulled out a creased and worn piece of paper. She quickly glanced around before unfolding it, as if it contained some kind of great secret. It didn’t. It was just a promotional brochure, and the tagline was simple: “Fourth of July Historical Reenactment—come meet the Founding Fathers on the 250th anniversary of their boldest achievement!”

Having picked it up during her date with Te’dol nearly a week ago, Rodah had nearly put it through the wash yesterday, but she had spotted a corner sticking out of the pocket and rescued it. Having done so, she had then spent some time pondering it.

The same part of her that had been curious about the museum complex was also curious about this event. A historical reenactment, at the very site of the original event? How rare was that? The more cautious part of her knew that the sort of people that would want to go to an event like this probably wouldn’t be happy to see her there. The most cautious part of her screamed that as a loyal subject of the Empress, she shouldn’t even think about going.

That part of her was annoying. It was no crime or betrayal to learn about the past. She was a reasonable woman, and it was for the sake of bettering her rational self that she was doing this. She needed to know the context in which she and the administration was acting in order to accurately predict the consequences of any actions they took. So she ignored that irrational, overly paranoid voice second-guessing her, and silenced it with a quick shake of her head.

One short subway ride later, she was back in front of the relatively unassuming brick building that would be the focus of today’s activities. The sun was shining, the weather was perfect, and the wide green lawn was already bustling with large numbers of people, despite the fact that it was still half an hour before the reenactment was scheduled to start. Men, women, and families all mingled and chatted with each other. Some were standing, but many were sitting on blankets they had brought. For all the rebellious mythos surrounding the Fourth and the widespread outcry at the Council’s dissolution, it was a remarkably calm affair.

Well, relatively calm. There were several children running around screaming and yelling excitedly, as they each in turn won or lost whatever game they were playing. As one of them ran past, Rodah noticed a small American flag that he had been carrying had fallen to the ground. 

Bending over to pick up the small piece of cloth attached to a stick, Rodah took a moment to examine it. Seven red stripes with six white stripes between them. A large number of white stars on a blue background, perhaps meant to be a simplified depiction of the sky. A relatively simple symbol, yet its exact meaning was very much not obvious to Rodah. It was commonly associated with violent rebellion against the Imperium, but surely it stood for something more than just that.

Realizing that she should probably return the flag to its owner, she looked around for the child who had dropped it, but he was seemingly nowhere to be found. In the vein of the Imperial Banner, Rodah assumed that it would probably be rude and disrespectful to leave it lying there on the ground, so she decided to hold onto it. It seemed to be deflecting some of the angry glares she had been experiencing on the way here, so that was another reason to keep it.

She gave it a few tentative waves, imitating some other people she could see in the crowd. The flag had more drag in the wind than she expected, but it actually felt a little fun to wave it around, somehow. For whatever reason, they didn’t really make Imperial Banners this small, so the sensation was new to Rodah.

“Lily?” she heard a voice ask from behind her. She didn’t know why, but she felt like the question had been directed at her. She turned around to see an old man leaning on a cane. Beside him stood a younger man who looked somewhat alike, perhaps his son.

“I’m sorry, I think you might have the wrong person,” Rodah said.

“Oh,” the old man said. “I’m sorry. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, I guess. Still, it’s unusual to see one of you folks out waving Old Glory.”

“Old Glory?” Rodah asked, confused.

“The flag. She goes by many names: Old Glory, The Stars and Stripes, Star-Spangled Banner. All nicknames for the good old Red, White, and Blue. The version you’re holding is anachronistic, but she’s still the same flag at heart.”

Hiuh. The flag was a she? Like the Imperial Crown was a she? Interesting. Not many non-living things were ‘she’ in English. The only other ones Rodah could think of were ships.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is this one ‘anachronistic,’ whatever that means?”

“That is the most recent version of the flag, with 50 stars. The earliest version had thirteen stars for thirteen colonies, and was only adopted some time after the Declaration of Independence was signed. After all, you don’t need a flag if you don’t exist yet.”

“So the stars represent colonies? Like how Pennsylvania was a colony at one point?”

“Yes. But to be more accurate, the stars actually represent states,” the old man said. “The first thirteen to join up, the ones who began the whole thing, they started out as colonies of Britain, but then they broke free. This reenactment is about the day they decided to break free.”

“I see. So more… states… joined them afterwards?”

“Yep. At first they tried to add a new stripe for each state too, but then they sensibly realized that that would get far too cluttered.”

“Hmm. From thirteen to fifty. That’s a lot of expansion, right?”

“Yes. Debatably, it was the most successful country on the planet before your empire arrived. While it was certainly the most powerful by several metrics, I would dispute that any of our governments here were truly successful, given how you stand here today.”

“Everyone else standing here besides me is a testament to the Imperium’s lack of success,” Rodah countered. “Even if I could spend all day searching, I don’t think I could find a single Imperial banner on this whole field, even if I had a hundred women to help me.”

“Hah! I suppose you’re surprised at that fact. To me, having lived here for 83 years, I would have been more surprised if you had managed to convert even a tenth of the population into genuine loyalists in the time you’ve had. But then, I know them well, and you don’t, so I’m not surprised that you’re surprised.”

“You would have been surprised at merely a tenth?” Rodah asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Well, for one, we humans are damn stubborn,” the old man said. “Too stubborn, perhaps. But that’s not the root of it, in my opinion.”

“What do you think the real answer is, then?” Rodah asked. Many people had speculated on the issue, and Rodah had even heard a couple of sensible answers from time to time. Personally, she had leaned more towards a human ‘endurance of mind’ (or stubbornness, if you were being less flattering) where it took humans a long time to change their minds about anything. But this man apparently had a different opinion.

“Our ideas. We Americans have very strong ideas about how a government should work. You may have defeated the original implementation, but you have failed to kill the idea.”

So it was still ‘endurance of mind,’ or rather, ‘endurance of ideas.’

“We haven’t changed your minds yet? You’re not convinced that cooperating with our administration is the best way to develop Earth?”

“Throw away all that technological development bullshit. We’re not convinced cooperating and assimilating is the best way to develop our society. And your ideas aren’t very convincing compared to the ones that we know work for us. That was why we liked Alice. It was a return to familiarity. But it was apparently too dangerous an idea to be allowed to continue.”

“Dangerous? I didn’t think the Council was so dangerous,” Rodah said. “It made sense, in certain aspects.”

“And that was exactly what made it so dangerous,” the old man said, grinning. “The most dangerous ideas are the most innocuous and sensible ones. The ones that sound like common sense, but which offend the sensibilities of the establishment.”

“Uh, I don’t think….” Rodah started, but then stopped. She didn’t think of the Council as dangerous, but Cor’nol and other governesses had. Lots of them hated it for the simple fact that it was composed of common humans. Which was the exact thing that made it give good advice on governing them. Common sense, but not noble sense. 

“See? These days, it’s dangerous to think. Might get something into your head that you can’t get out again. But our heads are already full of these sorts of infectious ideas, and thereby we are afflicted by the plague of revolutionary zeal. I’m sure you’re already familiar with many of the symptoms.”

“Describing your own position as a disease isn’t a very convincing argument," Rodah said. “Is there a cure, then?”

“Not while men can still think for themselves, and certainly not while the current situation so clearly demonstrates the faults of the alternative.”

“I see,” Rodah simply said. Certainly, she could agree that this whole business with Cor’nol and the Council was definitely not presenting a good image.

“I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear, miss,” he said, mistaking her lack of comment for disagreement. “But it’s the truth, I swear it on my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor.”

“I believe you,” Rodah asked. “You didn’t need to swear what sounds like such a strong oath. I asked you the question, if I had thought you were going to lie to me, I would not have bothered asking it.”

He was right, though—it was not a pleasant thing to hear, that there was no easy way out. But she could hear Alice speaking in the back of her mind: “do not fear the truth, no matter how unpleasant it is.” It was no use getting upset about it.

“Ah, I should have known my reference would fall flat,” he apologized. “But still, I appreciate your openness. There are a great many people that would be served well by following your example.”

“It is the example of another which I am following,” Rodah said. “I should receive less credit than you give.”

He just smiled in response, as if there was some sort of joke she ought to be getting.

“Well, I appreciate you answering my questions,” Rodah said, figuring she had probably kept him long enough. “I’ll let you go now.”

“Nonsense, I’d never dream of turning away someone who’s honestly curious! Keep asking questions, young woman! You might eventually figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Rodah asked.

“That’s up to you,” he replied cryptically. “But you’ll know it once you get there. Common Sense, and all that. Anyways, have a good Fourth.”

As he moved to go, Rodah realized that she didn’t even know his name:

“Wait! What’s your name, mister?”

“Oh, I completely forgot to introduce myself! How silly of me. I’m Clement, but you can call me Clem.”

“I’m Rodah. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am,” he said.

As they walked away, Rodah could faintly hear the man’s son talking to him:

“Paw, are you warming up to those purple girls?”

“Only the ones that have fallen, or are about to fall into the… rabbit hole.”

“Jeez. You really think she’ll….?”

Rodah wasn’t able to make out the rest of their sentences as they left audible range. What kind of hole had she fallen into? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Well, whatever. She had learned a lot, and it had been interesting talking to that man. Kind of weird that he would mistake her for someone he knew, but it had been a fortuitous encounter, she thought.

Although she lacked a blanket, she decided to sit down on the grass while she was waiting. It was warm in the sun, and it felt good against her skin. It reminded her a little bit of her childhood. How long had it been since she had lain down in the grass like this? Probably too long.

Surprisingly, it felt like almost no time at all before the crowd began stirring, and Rodah heard a couple of high-pitched shrill musical notes faintly in the distance. Standing up, she could easily see over other people’s heads, and spot the source of the commotion: a troop of what could theoretically be described as uniformed soldiers, though that would be going a bit far. 

Most, but not all of them were wearing weird black triangular hats that didn’t match. Their coats were a variety of drab colors that ranged from tan to yellow to green to dark blue, although some also wore colorful or bright white undercoats, ruining any camouflage value the coats may have had. On their shoulders, they propped up very old-fashioned gunpowder rifles made of unadorned wood and steel, and most were tipped with something straight out of a Unification War history flick—honest to Goddess bayonets!

If they were going for the ‘ragtag rebel army’ aesthetic, they were absolutely nailing it. Although they marched like professionals to the fife and drum music that Rodah could hear getting louder as they approached, no self-respecting modern army would permit their troops to go into battle so equipped, not even in the Alliance.

Following directly behind the unit of poorly-armed men, which was about the size of a platoon, there was a loose group of civilian-looking men dressed in slightly more colorful and fancier coats. They wore stockings, like had been the fashion for men in the Imperium during the Silver Age, although it also seemed like a bunch of them were also wearing large wigs of grey or white hair, perhaps in a poor attempt to make themselves look like older men? These were probably meant to be the leaders of the rebellion, escorted by their forces.

Smiling and waving to the crowd that was lining up along the path they were walking down, the reenactors seemed to be enjoying themselves nearly as much as the crowd. Rodah decided that it had, in fact, been a good idea to come to this event. It was just still a bit of a shame that Te’dol couldn’t be here with her… 

~~~~~~

“1st Platoon QRF, prepare to deploy to Allentown militia station. A large protest appears to be forming. All other units, remain at base and stand by for now. Boss, that includes you.”

Having just gotten through changing all the configuration settings in her new exo to be exactly how she wanted them, B’unta was slightly annoyed that she had been told not to go. She called up Pera, who had sent out the announcement over the base’s internal speakers.

“Pera, I should be out there bashing their puny skulls in. Why are we only sending one unit?”

“Firstly, because I heard that you haven’t finished familiarizing yourself with your exo, boss. Do you really want to go out there and then trip up in front of them? Your wonderfully threatening aura would be ruined. Secondly, I expect today to be a long day, full of little boys and girls making trouble. In fact, I’ve heard from the Chief-of-staff that we should probably expect riots in most major cities tonight. Compared to that, this is an insect’s fart. You and the exo gals are being reserved for the big ones.”

“Boo. You know I’ve been dry for far too long,” B’unta said. “Not a drop of blood in nearly two weeks due to those stupid transport rules. Not even a bruise! A gal can only take so much, you know?”

“Well, I promise that you’ll see some action today, boss, how about that?” Pera replied. “Just talk to the Ha’gosha Corp girls and make sure you’re good to go.”

“Already done. I’m going to test the laser now.”

“Oh, and remember, when you do get to have your fun, you’re not allowed to get violent with them until they do something aggressive,” Pera said. “Chief-of-staff’s orders.”

“That little desk-bound slave to paperwork can go suck my left tit. What’s he trying to play at? Ask Cor’nol directly about it. He’ll cut that prissy shit out.”

“Alright, I’ll do that, but stay put in the meantime, boss. Test your weapon, or whatever. I’ll get back to you with any news.”

“Okay. Goodbye,” B’unta said, ending the call. 

~~~~~~

“You guys aren’t about to arrest us, are you?” a woman from the crowd asked Dmitry. “We’re just exercising our right to free speech.”

“Officially, you know that’s not a thing we’re supposed to care about anymore, but I’m not going to arrest anyone unless they do something really stupid.”

“That’s reassuring. I was kind of nervous coming here,” she said.

He didn’t say anything in response, mostly because he wasn’t sure what he should say. For some reason, one of the people protesting in front of the militia station had decided to talk to him, and he didn’t want to say something that he wouldn’t be able to back up.

“Free speech? Why do they keep bringing that up?” E’nara asked over his shoulder. The militia personnel had been assigned to stand guard outside the station and dissuade the crowd of protestors from trying anything. As the senior officer present, Dmitry kept glancing around to make sure that they were all keeping their hands off their service weapons.

“Because it was considered a political right back before you arrived,” Frank said. “They want it back.”

“But why?”

“We Americans like to protest. Free speech is a guarantee that you won’t get arrested for doing what these people are doing.”

“They sure are speaking freely,” E’nara said as the crowd chanted loudly:

“CORNHOLE! ASSHOLE! CORNHOLE! ASSHOLE!”

They had tried out and discarded multiple slogans over the course of the last few minutes, but it looked like they had finally found one that was at least slightly catchy.

“They are not doing a good job of pronouncing his name correctly,” Fe’ham said.

“That’s on purpose,” Henry said, struggling to make himself heard over the chanting from his more distant position. “It’s ‘cause his name sounds like cornhole, which is a game.”

“A game? Like a video game?”

“No, a field game. The goal is to toss small beanbags into holes.”

“Bean-bags? Not corn-bags?”

“Maybe you could fill the bags with dried corn kernels. I don’t know. It’s not important. The point is that it makes his name sound stupid.”

“Well, why not at least make reference to it? Something like ‘no playing games, Cornhole! Throw his ass in the hole!’ That would make more sense,” E’nara said, right as there was a natural lull in the chanting.

“THROW HIS ASS IN THE HOLE! THROW HIS ASS IN THE HOLE!” The chanting immediately restarted with the new slogan. “NO GAMES, CORNHOLE!”

“Whoops,” E’nara said.

“Now look at what you’ve done,” Fe’ham said. “And somehow you always say I’m the one that gets into more trouble.” 

Henry just laughed. Dmitry let a small smile creep onto his face.

“I don't think either one of you would get into nearly as much trouble if the other were not there,” Frank said. “And of course they stole your slogan idea. That’s the point, to mock and annoy us. The way to deal with it is just to not respond to the taunting.”

“They stole my idea!” E’nara protested. “No one will ever know that I came up with it!”

“I don’t think you want anyone to know you came up with a new insult for the governor,” Henry commented.

“Maybe you’re right. Oh well,” E’nara said, shrugging.

“BAG HIS ASS AND THROW HIM IN A HOLE!” 

“Now it’s evolving,” Henry said. “I wonder where it’ll end up?”

“HOLE HIS BAG AND CORN HIS ASS!” one person shouted loudly, setting off a wave of laughter in the crowd. Dmitry didn’t manage to hold it in and chuckled a little.

“What in the Sea of Souls does that mean?” E’nara asked.

“Literally, nothing. Figuratively, uh,  read between the lines,” Frank suggested.

“So, like, ‘fuck the governor?’ ” E’nara asked

“Pretty much,” he confirmed.

Just then, Chief Ne’panna exited the building to join them.

“Hey, I just heard that they’re sending us a quick reaction force as reinforcements, so that we don’t have to keep handling this by ourselves.”

“This doesn’t actually seem that bad compared to those previous times they were throwing stuff at us,” E’nara said. “Are you sure we actually need backup?”

“I didn’t make a request for any,” Chief Ne’panna said. “Command heard my reports about the protest and sent them all on their own.”

“That’s not normal,” Fe’ham commented. “Normally we have to beg to get a couple of gals sent in from the next town over. I didn’t even know we had a quick reaction force.”

“Apparently we do,” Chief Ne’panna said. “And apparently, the reforms have made it so command is willing to do more than just sit around on their asses all day.”

“Would it be too cliché to say that I have a bad feeling about this?” Henry asked.

“I haven’t had a good feeling in, like, three weeks,” Frank commented. “I knew that things were probably going to go south the moment… well, it’s been pretty obvious to me. This is no exception.”

That was a deliberate omission of blaming the governor if Dmitry had ever heard one. It was probably a bad sign that Frank was self-censoring like that. Great, now he had a bad feeling too! 

“Since the new governor?” E’nara asked, boldly forging ahead beyond the point where her human colleague had turned back.

“Don’t be saying things like that,” Chief Ne’panna said, shaking her head and gesturing towards the crowd of protestors. “It will only encourage them.”

To Dmitry, it seemed like the protestors didn’t need any encouragement, as more of them kept trickling in from the surrounding area. Some of these later arrivals had taken the time to bring signs with anti-Cor’nol slogans to wave around. He could make out a couple of different ones: ‘Cor’nol = Asshole,’ ‘Broken Promises, Broken Peace,’ and ‘We Stand Ready,’ a reference to the disbanded Council’s call to action. 

To his left, he heard Frank stifling a laugh and looked over to see a sign that was taking itself rather less seriously. A picture of an ancient Chinese philosopher had been glued to it, and the accompanying text read ‘Disregarding Council? Most Unwise.’ Dmitry found it mildly amusing, but he wondered if any of this enthusiasm and creativity in protesting would come to anything in the end.

A rough approximation of the sign in question

As they waited there in front of the station, Dmitry guessed that there were probably several hundred people there already. A couple more people arrived and joined up, and he also saw a couple of people leave after only a few minutes. Maybe they had places to be, or parties they wanted to get to. Or maybe there were more protests going on elsewhere. That seemed likely. He didn’t want to imagine what things might look like later tonight once people had been drinking. 

Unfortunately, given the—in his opinion, rather justified—level of anger at the governor’s actions, he guessed that blood would be spilled today. It was only a matter of time and a punch thrown at the wrong overly twitchy woman with a gun.

~

<< First | < Previous | Next >