Chapter 1738 – Birthday Dinner
“Temperance is the last gift I would have expected of you, my love.” The knife in Lydia’s hand ran its serrated edge through the stubborn sinew that kept the steak together. “It has my deepest approval.”
John sat across from her. Minutes ago he had been mesmerized by her beauty. She wore a black dress with a low cut, her half-exposed breasts covered by loosely hanging cloth. Copper red hair was bound in a crown braid, a hairpin shaped like the Prussian eagle keeping it in place. A similar symbol was present in the necklace around her neck. Seeing her with jewellery was rare. Among the sparkling things she wore, the grey ring on her finger stood out for its simplicity.
The presence of the engagement ring made John smile for a brief moment, before the situation his original body was in pulled him back into a dour mood. The candlelight dinner they were sharing suddenly felt like a dark place.
“At least someone enjoys my decision.” John leaned back in the armchair and watched Lydia chew on her slice of steak. She was taking every bit of care that was justified for such an expensive meal.
They were in one of the most expensive establishments of Abyssal Berlin, which made it one of the most expensive places in the entire world. It was John’s treat, all paid for in advance so Lydia could not be stingy about it.
The split between John’s minds was not equal and had not been for over a month. Most of his mental capacity was firmly with his main body. The Creator Puppet was mostly just around, reacting to it when he was addressed but otherwise leaving the girls to entertain themselves. The Ambassador Double got more than that, necessity asking that he remain politically savvy at least, but it was still just a splinter of the greater whole.
This imbalance in priorities made sitting in the thoroughly European restaurant odd. Every inch of the room was unapologetically Western, mimicking the style of the late-enlightenment period, before industrialization had given everything a replicated look. The wooden panels along the walls were hand carved, the paintings genuine, and the marble floors polished in a long process.
John much preferred this style of architecture. Upbringing made it that way. The way the lines flowed into or not into each other just spoke to his personal preference in how to use symmetry. Still, he wasn’t really there. His main body was squatting in an Aztec palace. The clashing architecture styles around him gave him a unique feeling. He was too used to multiple perceptions to be displeased or distracted by it.
They were alone, tucked away in a private room. One of the walls was a window, giving a nice panorama view of the city with its many old-timey buildings. This side of Berlin had not been marred by any bombings.
“You weren’t testing me, were you?” John asked.
“You ought to know better than to ask me that question.” The queen speared a Brussels sprout with her fork. The little, round vegetable was slightly browned, having been seared in the excess fat left in the pan after the steak was through. “The others have no doubt informed you of their rationale. I trust in their and your instincts when it comes to women. Your track record in this field is unparalleled.”
John took that stroke of his ego. “I suppose I do know how to pick them.”
“It does please me to see that your morality can prevail even when all is lined up for your indulgence.” Lydia chomped down on the vegetable and gave it a pleased chew. She continued after swallowing, “Much as I love Aclysia’s cooking, I must admit the local chef is her equal.”
“Would love to judge that,” the Gamer took the lighter topic and ran with it. “I did make this reservation with my own taste buds in mind. Alas, they are on the other side of the planet.”
“That you can be present in body and mind is wonder enough. Short of gods, I don’t think there’s anyone else who can split themselves across the absolute distance.” The queen bit down on the last piece of steak on her plate. Once she had finished eating, she placed the knife and fork down. The provided napkin was used to wipe any remaining fat from her ruby red lips.
The gone summer showed as a fading tan on her northern European features. Over here, temperatures were swiftly declining now. September had come and gone and October was bringing with it the full swing of autumn.
“All of this would be impossible without that ability.” A circle of his hand underlined his words. “You, me, the entirety of my lifestyle, all hinging on this capacity to maintain my presence threefold.”
“Have you ever considered what would happen would you lose the ability permanently?” Lydia asked.
“Often.” John played with the tablecloth, where its silky texture hung over the table’s edge. “Obviously, I have to make it work then. I couldn’t cut any of you out of my life. The question after that would be if some of you would get sick of having less time with me.”
“It strikes me as an unlikely issue. We are far too attached to each other to mind not seeing you every day.” Lydia reached for the glass of wine in front of her. She had the next day off, by the demand of her entire cabinet. John chuckled. “Whatever is so amusing, my love?”
“I wonder if I am seen by your cabinet as the go to tool to get you to take time off,” he expressed his thoughts. “Every time they approach me, it is for that purpose.”
Lydia blew air out of her nose. “Doubtlessly they seek time to put into place their own agendas.”
“I think you give them too little credit. You’ve gathered for yourself a competent and loyal set of supporters by now. Unlike my ministers…”
“An old state of nobles born and bred has its advantages,” Lydia agreed. “They lack the new nation’s spirit though. Before we forget the topic, I wish to say that I may not be the best to judge how distance may affect the harem.”
“A fair point,” John agreed.
“Do you believe that your adventure in Yucatan is wrapping up soon, then?” Lydia asked.
“The Grim Reaper holds that card. Without Lorelei, I am not leaving.” He stopped fidgeting and directed his full attention to Lydia. “Although things will have to come to a head in the coming days. There are too many factions at play. Somebody will overstep some line and it’ll set off a chain reaction.”
“Any idea yet on how to save those regular people?”
John let out a long sigh. “I think I may have to resolve to let the chips fall where they may in that regard.”
It was a deeply callous comment. Roughly 200’000 souls were at stake there and all John could say with certainty was that he had no way to save them. Removing them from the Sanctum? Impossible, even if he somehow had the organizational infrastructure for it, why would they trust him? How would he work that miracle, when he wasn’t in charge of the Illusion Barrier?
That left John with two options, to disregard them or to let them be used as shields. It was the terribly pragmatic calculation that he made that identified even a 100% casualty rate among them as the preferable outcome to letting the puppet master continue to pull his strings. That was, if John was correct in his suspicions. If not, then he had this horrible choice on his hands.
John had every reason to hope he was incorrect on this.
“It is the saddening certainty of the average masses that they will be grinded down between larger forces,” Lydia spoke solemnly. “We can curse it and try to be just all we want, the Abyss amplifies this human reality a hundredfold. Those without power are dust moved by the breath of titans.”
“A saddening certainty indeed… should we talk about such dour topics on your birthday?”
Lydia emptied her first glass of wine, then grabbed a little bell. It rang without a sound. “Discussing philosophy with a fellow ruler is a rare treat,” she answered, while a nearby door opened. A waiter hastened in, a bottle in hand, and refilled the royal’s glass.
“We talk frequently about such things,” John pointed out.
“Usually, we are disrupted in these talks by the flow of conversation or one of the others insisting not to linger on heavy topics. Leave the bottle.” The comment was for the waiter, who bowed his head and then left the room as quickly as he came. “You are forever paranoid.”
John closed the Observe window on the waiter. “Trust but verify, as they say,” he answered.
“An interesting saying, especially for rulers… This does make me wonder, have you verified the existence of these 200’000 people?”
“I haven’t head-counted them, but I have had enough of a look at the streets to confirm that there is a sizable population there. Whether it is 10’000 or 200’000 makes very little difference to my moral dilemma.”
“That is a fair rebuttal. Another note on the saying: how should a ruler handle it, my love?” Lydia stopped swirling her wine, took a sip, then continued her thought, “As those that make decisions, we are reliant on accurate information. The information we need is too manifold to be gathered by ourselves. We rely on our ministers to specialize in sub-categories, who rely on their own subordinates to further divide the burden of accuracy. At what point do we trust, but verify? How could we do so?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” John answered. “Between Momo and Scarlett, I verify all my intel to the highest degree.”
“Entertain the hypothetical, if you may.”
John scratched the back of his head and put himself in the shoes of the average world leader. He split the imagination into two further elements. One was the traditional apparatus, where there was hardly any way to verify things on their own. Second was the modern apparatus, paralleled by the internet.
“I find that inaction may be the best path for a lot of options the government has,” he stated his bias first. “Without the aid of the internet, one has to rely on the honour of the colleagues and that is a scary prospect for anyone as paranoid as me. I’d be stuck weeding out disloyal elements most of the time. In the modern age… it might be better for me but worse for those I govern.”
“Elaborate,” Lydia requested with a waving gesture.
“If I can’t always verify what others are saying, that would make me keep my feet still unless I am absolutely certain. If I can try to verify everything on the internet, I’ll find the wellspring of intel that confirms my biases and I’ll be spurred to action much faster. Actions that will be, regularly, the false one. Considering the power the state wields, every wrong decision is a disastrous one.” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. “In the end, what is required there is people that can check ideas and reason, which returns us to the issue of trust.”
“I have come to the same conclusion on the matter and I believe that is the eternal struggle of all politics – that the system that exists does not matter as much as the quality of the people that inhabit it.” Another sip of wine introduced a short pause. “Do you believe human nature is fundamentally good?”
“Fundamentally? Yes. Easily corrupted? Just as much,” John answered. “Could also be understood as a definitional dispute. Human nature, to me, would be the nature exclusive or nearly exclusive to humans, so the things that we layer on top of our base animal instincts. Large-scale cooperation, creative thinking, rationality, culture, such things I would generally regard as good.”
“Then let’s try a word less disputable – do you think humanity is fundamentally good?”
“Absolutely,” John answered immediately.
“What a swift response,” Lydia stated, her tone pleased.
“Do you not agree?”
“I believe the man that I first met would have at least hesitated on the answer,” Lydia responded, then turned to her right, to gaze out of the window. “I wish to be a leader remembered for her greatness, my love, and I cannot be that while believing that humanity is evil. If I followed that creed, it would follow logically that I must act to the detriment of humanity. If I believed that humanity was a neutral force, then my logic would be that of stagnancy. In nature, stagnancy is always doomed to die.” She shook her head. “No, a leader must believe in the good of the people, their own at the very least. Everything else will lead to disaster.”
“I think we are beyond the simple and advanced pleasures in life,” John spoke agreeingly.
“A commitment to greater achievements must be made.” Lydia raised her glass. John met it with a tap of his knuckles. An unusual answer to it, but the best he could offer. After the toast, the queen changed the topic. “On a more present note, have you worked out what to do with the Mythical Ichor?”
“Angling for a birthday present?” John joked.
Lydia gave him a downright vicious glare. “Do not dare gift me more. I already owe you a public breeding.”
“I love that you used that word.”
Lydia blushed slightly. “The wine must be getting to me… or your constant insistence on using that word.”
“It’s a really nice word.”
Waving off, the queen continued, “Whatever the happenstance may be, I do not desire such a gift, no. Rather, it is accurate to say that I believe I have gotten my due several times over.”
“Maybe I’ll pour it over Strimata just to see you flustered,” John threatened and reached into his inventory. Out came the bottle, filled with the prismatic fluid. Lydia’s glare only intensified and John put it away again before anything unforeseen could happen. “I haven’t made a decision yet. Too many good choices. Current favourites are Rex Magnar and Illuminare, though.”
“Whatever happens, I will be happy to hear of your shenanigans,” Lydia answered, then rose from her seat. “Now, shall we get me out of this dress?”
“With pleasure,” John responded.