> Are we not good enough?
> Are we not brave enough?
> Is the violence in our nature
> Just the image of our maker?
> Are we not good enough?
Rise Against - "The Violence"
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Leandra Singh gazed up at the towering spires of the Triumvirate’s capital city and did her best not to succumb to dismay. It wasn’t easy, for the structures seemed tailored to humble its visitors. The blue and green alien skyscrapers were perfection brought to life, their clean simple lines giving an almost ethereal impression to Humans like herself. Even after all this time, Earth couldn’t begin to match their architecture, and yet these same buildings were ancient. They were already old long before Mankind built his the first pyramid, though they gleamed as if they had constructed them only yesterday. They were ageless, awe-inspiring...and the symbol of everything she had grown to hate about this alien land.
Admit it, the job is getting to you; she thought to herself, especially today. Once a year she had the unenviable task of carrying a petition to the highest leaders of the Triumvirate, and as she stepped inside the building and placed her palm against the lift panel, she wondered if this time she’d be able to keep her feelings to herself. Just how many times could you pound your head against the wall in frustration, before you threw in the towel?
The doors slid open, beckoning to her, as she steeled her resolve and stepped inside. She heard no sound as the doors closed behind her, no sense of movement felt as it carried her to the very top floor of the Ministry Center. If there was a center of power in the ancient Triumvirate, it was here; the individuals waiting for her the latest holders of an office that stretched back to a time when Man wore animal skins and hunted Wooly Mammoth with flint-tipped spears.
A point they ensured Mankind was not allowed to forget.
The doors slid open once more as she arrived at her destination. The Ministers of the Triumvirate awaited her in their Chamber, as poised and perfect as ever, and as she stepped forward, she regarded each of the three individuals as she prepared herself for her address.
The Saurotaur Minister Lassoarth gazed at her, her hands folded as she watched her approach with large golden eyes. Her species had a serenity that any human monk would envy, their green pebbled skin covering a shape reminiscent of the Centaurs of legend. Her head was broad and ridged, and a trick of the light made it almost seem if she were smiling. Leandra knew better than to take that at face value; in fact, the unfailing politeness known to her people made it even more difficult to accept their decisions.
Flanking her was the Ophipteran Minister Qomzoixaa, his transparent dragonfly wings in constant motion, while his flat snake-like head weaved and twitched as if to music only he could hear. His green conical eyes darted about in search of predators, returning to her far too often to be anything resembling a hopeful sign.
On a raised column between them rested a smooth polished sphere...the Ronin Minister Σ 121 Sub Δ. The artificial race had earned its name because of the loss of their Creators, who had disappeared millennia ago in some ancient disaster. Their mechanical servants had remained, undergoing their own form of evolution in the years that followed.
Leandra came to a halt a respectful distance from the waiting Ministers, her head bowed as she greeted them. “Ministers, I bring before you a Petition from the Governor-General of Earth, a request to improve our standing in Triumvirate society and government.”
Lassoarth inclined her head, inviting her to come forward. “We look forward to hearing your Petition, Ambassador. Please proceed.”
She stepped forward, raising her head, the robes of her office swishing about her as began to speak. “In the ninety years since our races first met, Mankind has held a Probationary status in the Triumvirate. We understood your reasons, for we are a young race compared to each of yours. Humanity knew it had much to learn from you, and over the years we have striven to meet the benchmarks for advancement you have laid out for us. With your help we have abolished war, ended poverty, and taken the first real steps towards the future our species has long dreamed of, and feared would never come. Your guidance has taught us much, though often the lessons have been difficult to accept. And now we stand before you, a race united, asking for the opportunity to stand beside you, not as supplicants...but as equals.”
Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa shared a brief glance, while the thoughts of Σ 121 Sub Δ were impossible to discern. They’d danced this dance so many times before, and each knew well the steps to perform, and yet despite it all, Leandra hoped this time, it would be different.
The Ophipteran’s wings buzzed as he turned back to face her. “Your people have come far since we met so many years ago and while you have impressed us with your progress we feel that any change in your status would be premature since as you said you are still a young race.” They would have left any human trying to get that sentence out in a single breath gasping by the effort, but for the Minister’s race, it was simply the way they spoke...as once again they dashed her hopes.
“…may I ask why?” she asked with care. Keep that temper of yours in check! Leandra cautioned herself, as she searched his face for answers. “Have we not met every criterion you have demanded of us? What else must we do, to gain acceptance among your ranks?” She knew she was grasping at straws…but they were all she had left.
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The Ronin Minister’s artificial voice emanated from the column it rested on. “It is illogical to grant your race increased status, Ambassador. There are still disturbing elements to your society that would make any such alteration ill-advised. Despite our best efforts, your people still show an unhealthy attachment to violence and self-destruction.”
Even though she’d known it was coming, hearing those words went down hard. “Ministers, Mankind has not fought a war in our living memory. We screen each child from before birth for any genetic or biochemical markers that might signal a propensity for violence. We have made the mental health of our people every bit as important as their physical health, and the medical establishment monitors us for any warning signs throughout our lives. So I ask you again, Ministers, what else must we do?”
“All you say is true, Ambassador,” Lassoarth said, “yet your kind still seeks violence as entertainment. This racial trait concerns us, for why would any sane sapient embrace such an unhealthy form of recreation?”
The Guilds, she sighed, it always comes back to the Guilds. Channeling Mankind’s warlike impulses into something peaceful had not been an easy task, and for those individuals who found traditional sports too tame for their liking, they had formed the Guilds. With elements of both Gaming and Historical Recreation, the Guilds offered the masses an outlet that appealed to their baser instincts and yet was about as dangerous as Tiddlywinks. They fought battles within the safe confines of computers, and the yearly Finals drew as much (if not more) excitement as the World Cup. It was safe, it was harmless...and for the Triumvirate, proof Humans were just as bloodthirsty as they’d always been.
“Minister, I submit our choices of recreation should have no bearing on our Petition,” Leandra replied through a clenched jaw. “There is no actual conflict, and it harms no one. It is mere competition, nothing more.”
“Ambassador what you see as a harmless activity we view as a symptom of some deeper pathology which makes it impossible for us to grant your species the license it seeks though you should not feel disheartenment by this and use our criticisms not as a denunciation but as a guide for self-improvement,” Qomzoixaa got out, as she fought to keep her own temper in check...which would only prove their point for them.
“Ministers,” she said with a clenched jaw, “we are not you. It is discriminatory to judge us by these kinds of arbitrary standards...standards written long ago, without taking into consideration our unique racial characteristics. If you would just give us a chance, we will prove to you our worth.” Even though she’d known the odds were slim of them granting Earth’s Petition, hearing the words out loud tore at her.
“As you yourself stated, Humanity has made great strides since our first encounter,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said in measured tones. “But you seek to claim a privilege you are not yet ready to wield. In time, we hope you will be, but that day is not yet here.”
Twelve times she had come before this body to make this same request, and twelve times they had turned her down. Others had stood on this same spot before her, and others would come after...and all the while the Triumvirate dangled a carrot in front of them, one she had long suspected they would never relinquish. Despite her best efforts to remain calm, their condescending words dug into her flesh. Easy for them to call themselves evolved and mature! The Saurotaurs and Ophiptera were herbivores, and the Ronin machines. Mankind could never meet those impossible standards.
Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, she thought with a cold smile.
“From the day we met, you’ve looked down at us,” Leandra said with quiet fury. “You’ve sneered at our savage nature, insinuated we’re little more than half-evolved apes, and every time we’ve done as you asked...as you demanded...you’ve moved the goalposts.” Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa looked at her with sudden alarm, drawing back from her anger. “You sit here safe, behind your planetary shields, and dare to judge us for having to claw our way out of the muck. And what have you become?”
A sneer appeared on her face, even though in some recess of her mind she knew she was feeding their fears. It didn’t matter, she’d been bottling it up for far too long, and nothing would stop her from letting it out now. “Stagnant. Static. Torpid. You haven’t made a scientific advancement in a thousand years, and you haven’t colonized a new world in three thousand. Your population has been declining for centuries...and yet here you sit, impugning us.” Leandra knew she was rapidly talking herself right out of a job, but she no longer cared. It felt too damn good.
“You built yourselves a Utopia,” she charged on, as the Ministers seemed to be searching for a means to escape her wrath, “and you’ve pissed it away. We would give anything to have just the smallest piece of what you’ve built, and yet you still deny us any technology beyond the most basic. Just how long to expect us to be your whipping boy before we cry ‘Enough!’”
Her chest heaved as she ran out of invective to hurl, her nostrils flaring, her face flushed with adrenaline. The herbivores shrank back, unable to speak...but the machine suffered no such qualms.
“Your outburst is the most convincing proof of all that your species is not yet ready,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said. “If you cannot contain your emotions, how can you claim equal status? Your entire argument collapses under its own weight, Ambassador.” The Ronin were famous for having no emotions, but Leandra could hear the gloating in its voice.
“You’re right, Minister,” she said at last, “we’re not your equals.” The red-hot anger that had been running through her veins only moments before had become something much colder...and crueler.
“...we’re better,” Leandra hissed, before turning on her heels and storming out of the chamber, leaving chaos in her wake.