Never in my life had I been shown the hospitality I was given at the Capital during those first weeks. Day after day, I was showered with lavish attention from the various ministers, all coming to pay their homage. I thought the novelty of my presence would wear off, but the deluge of questions, spurned by genuine curiosity, never ended. It was infuriating - to be asked so much and answered so little. I was eager to meet all those I could at first. But minister after minister rejected any line of questioning I had. They would simply shrug and ask about different forms of government, policies, economics, and cultures. I answered as best I could, but every answer required the caveat that I wasn’t an expert on such subjects. Outside of the fusion technology aboard the station, Hadrian, in particular, had very little interest in discussing the technological state of my time. He often referred to Arlo as being a primitive attempt at artificial intelligence. I never divulged that Arlo was the culmination of my life’s work. There was no need. I had grown to know the minister to be a sensitive man, and his shame wouldn’t change the fact he looked down on my achievements.
Over time, it became clear the signal was as much an enigma to them as it was to me, so I shifted to asking more about the new world I found myself in - but still, the ministers declined to answer. They didn’t even give the courtesy of deflecting. Instead, they would tell me such matters should be of no concern and then move on to their next line of inquiry. Most of my days during those weeks were spent wandering the tower halls, always under the watchful gaze of the Capital Guard. At night, my room was locked from the outside. What they feared I would find if allowed to roam freely, I did not know, but it gave me hope there were still answers dwelling beneath the gilded surface.
I stumbled upon a library tucked away down some marble-coated corridor, filled with a curated collection of works across every genre. It was a gold mine for intellectual curiosity. However, after reading several works of fiction and volumes of historical accounts, the overall uplifting and optimistic tone quickly stood out. It was often said that the best works of writing reflect the societal tones of the time - but in the literature, I found in that library, nothing was portrayed in anything but a positive light.
Days began to blur as time went on. I was far more content than I had ever been on the station, but the monotonous cycle of life here took on some of the same underpinnings. Wake up, shower, eat breakfast, often alone but occasionally with the wandering mind of a minister or two, and then off to the library until dinner. I found that the dinner party that abruptly slammed me against my hosts’ customs was a regular occurrence. Not every night, but once, if not twice a week, we would all be summoned into that same room. And as always, I was the guest of honor. My exit from these dinners before the festivities was now down to a science. I could slip out, unnoticed by most, back to my room while the ministers took to their traditions. I was never truly alone, though. The watchful gaze of the Capital followed me into even the most remote nooks of the palace.
I made a point, after the first dinner, to ensure my maid saw me exit and not partake. I didn’t know her name, but she began to grow on me. I relished the short exchanges we would have whenever my tunics needed changing. My glances toward her were not as discrete as I’d hoped, as Claudius soon took notice. He cared little but would often offer his own advice, pointing out that the laws of man did not bind the residents of this tower. I knew what he was getting at, even if he didn’t say it outright. During this time, I still felt I wasn’t long for this world, and everything that had happened to that point, everything of interest especially, was a windfall on borrowed time. I didn’t protest, but I began to loathe.
One morning, following my same routine, I slinked off to the library after breakfast. When I walked in, I found Augustus sitting in a leather-bound armchair, deep in thought. His presence took me off guard. Until then, there hadn’t been another soul in that room. The library had proven to be of little interest to the inhabitants of that tower until now. I froze, unsure if he wanted to be left in peace. Before I could make a move, Augustus decided for me.
“I was told you spent your days here.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, no. That’s quite alright. You aren’t intruding at all. I was hoping to catch you here.”
He could’ve just called for me.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss?”
“Yes, but admittedly, I don’t exactly know how,” Agustus said, rubbing his hands together. “I’d like you to read this text,” he continued, tapping on a hard-covered book resting on a table beside him.
“What’s it about?”
“The world is much different than you remember, Jack. Beyond these walls, down there, society has evolved, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
“Does this mean I’ll be allowed outside this tower?”
“In time, Jack. Until then, I want to prepare you. Governing so many is nearly an impossible task. But it’s a burden that must be born. I’ve read extensively about your time. Some concepts and ideologies purveyed those antiquated forms of governing that could not persist - not if we wanted to ensure the longevity of our species. This book is a historical account on how the nations of the world united to save humanity.”
“That’s a lot to capture in a single text.”
“It’s long but comprehensive. Please do look it over. You don’t have to read it all in one sitting. It would be far too dense. Between other works, maybe?”
“Of course.”
“Good, Jack. In a week’s time, let us, you and I, privately dine and discuss your findings.”
“Before you go, I—”
“You have a lot of questions. I know. We do as well.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said, accepting the heavy book from his grasp. Augustus smiled, his weathered cheeks creasing from mouth to eye. “I’m looking for a way back.”
“Back to your time, I know.”
“Before then.”
“Oh?” Augustus’s brow raised.
“Not by much. Just a few years.”
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Augustus tapped the book with his wrinkled finger.“Read the text, then we can talk more. But don’t raise your hopes. I don’t have all the answers you seek, admittedly. I’m hoping, in time, we can find the answers together.” He smiled slightly and clasped his hands behind his back before leaving.
I studied the cover. It was hardbound, dull grey, and inlaid with gold lettering: “Societal Efficiencies and the Means to Achieve Them.”
Nestled into the warm armchair, I turned the first page.
Chapter 1: Background on the Societal State
By the dawn of the twenty-first century, the world had seen the outcome of two competing societal ideologies, ending with the demise of communism. Over the ensuing two decades, capitalism reigned unfettered. Through its mechanisms, vast swathes of the human species were lifted out of their perpetual poverty and, for the first time, had access to the prosperity much of the Western world had enjoyed the previous century.
A wrap on the wall near the doorway pulled me off the page. I saw Claudius leaning against a Roman pillar framing the entry.
“What are you reading this time?”
I picked up the book Societal Efficiencies and the Means to Achieve Them and presented it to him.
“Ah, one of my father’s favorites. He left it for you, no doubt.”
“He recommended it to me.”
“When?”
“Just now. Did you not pass him in the hall?”
“No. We must’ve come from different directions. No matter. It’s a great honor to have a piece of work personally recommended by the General Secretary.”
“I suppose it is, yes.”
“Did he mention why he recommended that book?”
“No. He wants to discuss it when I’ve finished. He didn’t say anything beyond that.”
“It’s an excellent text. It certainly excels at… painting the right picture.”
“As opposed to the wrong one?”
“If you take five painters, you’ll receive five vastly different works given the same description.”
“All pieces of work, literary or not, have subjectivity, I suppose,” I confirmed, unsure where Claudius was taking this conversation.
“And those that govern will have vastly differing policies, given the same conditions.”
“And it’s the people’s place to choose those that make the policies. Wisdom of the crowds.”
Claudius paused momentarily, scanning the surrounding shelves before replying, “Read the first chapter. Only the first. Once you do, I’d like to take you down below before you continue on.”
“To the lower city? I didn’t know I was allowed to go.”
“You’re not. But I can escort you down.”
“And your father?”
“Forgiveness, not permission. That was a quote in your time. You should be aware of it.”
“I am.”
“Good. Tomorrow, after breakfast, you’ll come to this library like you would any other day. I’ll meet you here and take you down.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Claudius grinned, “I’m not.” Then he turned and walked out.
I spent the remainder of the morning with the book Augustus left. Claudius’s comment played out in my head periodically, taking me away from my reading to contemplate.
What’s down there for him to dread going?
The rest of the chapter didn’t illuminate any grand revelations. For the most part, the text contextualized the centralization of power and the rise of the United Nations. Mass famine was becoming commonplace in my time within what we considered third-world countries. Food-producing parts of the world began hoarding their output, unwilling to ship elsewhere without significant financial return, be it in currency or commodities. Poor nations with little to no natural resources bore the brunt of this new scarcity. As the world moved away from fossil fuels, especially with the rise of nearly unlimited fusion-generated power, large swathes of the Middle East and North Africa lost their one revenue-driving commodity. What ensued was a refugee crisis of a magnitude never seen in the history of our civilization. There was, however, no Red Sea to part. Proverbially speaking, those caught in its wake drowned. The nations once considered the first world desperately tightened their grip on prosperity, unwilling to share their resources. Our species was in decline, not from the lack of resources but from an inability to cope with the change in how those resources were distributed. Coupled with the rise of automation and advances in artificial intelligence, advances I helped pioneer in my time, the need for skilled and unskilled labor became scarce. The first to fall was the global banking system. Even in my time, I saw the beginnings of its demise. Cheap capital backed by nation-states and not commodities quickly became a novelty of the past. As the text put it: The foundation of the global economy, that was the international banking system, cracked, tumbling the house of cards built upon it. Credit dried up, and only nations with hard commodities staved off starvation.
I had read books like it before, all purely theoretic with undertones espousing utopian ideals of societal structure. I chalked it all up to bullshit haphazardly written in some dorm room next to a Che Guevara poster. Humans are complex. A Utopia only exists where we are free to make our own decisions and live with the consequences. To achieve these aims, no societal architect could design a social system integrated into a self-governing body. But that certainly didn’t stop people from trying. The result was always the same, though. Famine and war were the calling cards of any Utopia.
Maybe they figured it out. Perhaps it just took another four centuries.
The chapter omitted any mention of the birth rate decline and all the fertility issues that plagued so many families. In my time, this was one of the foremost issues. You couldn’t look at the news without seeing an article or video about spikes in miscarriages. The text spoke to the issue of overpopulation, not its decline. Although I was eager to continue reading, subtle intrusions of propaganda aside, I gave Claudius my word I’d only read the first chapter. Having finished, I closed the book, tucked it under my arm, and left the library. I wandered the halls, examining the different works of art proudly displayed throughout the tower floor. The tone and subject matter of the pieces stood in stark contrast to the classics of my time. Gone were the biblical references, replaced by elected gods bringing prosperity to the people. One, in particular, depicted an angelic figure descending from the heavens, clad in a bureaucrat’s tunic, passing down regulations that transformed into loaves of bread in the outstretched hands of the people below.
A sudden urge to escape overcame me. My gaze locked onto the expansive wall of windows in the great room that connected the various corridors.
If I can just break the glass.
I’d somehow normalized this sideshow. Without answers or any progress to speak of, this new world was an amusement ride, and I was quickly becoming an unwilling rider.
It should be Richardson or Bradshaw here.
“Sir,” drifted a muffled voice. “Sir.”
I looked back to find my maid standing at the hallway entrance. “Yes— sorry I don’t think I ever asked your name.” Her dimpled cheeks rose above a delicate smile.
“My name is Ancillae— at least that is the name I was given when I arrived.”
“What’s your real name?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No. It’s alright. We leave our old names behind when we come to the capital.”
“I understand. Well, I don’t. But I won’t press you,” I assured.
“I’m sorry, but—”
“No, what is it?”
“I was in the hall and overheard you speaking to Master Claudius. Are you going to the lower city?”
“Yes, I believe so. ”
“Would you be able to take this? There are blue tubes scattered about the city. If you could slip it into one, I’d be very grateful.”
“OK,” I said, unsure of her intention. Still, the glimmer in her eyes pulled my hand forward to accept the package. “Are these tubes difficult to find?”
“No, they’re on every corner.”
“Consider it done. Is it a letter?” I asked, examining the solid back sheet.
“It’s correspondence, yes. They don’t allow contact outside the confines of the tower.”
“No? Even prisons allow communication with the outside world.”
“This isn’t a prison. I chose to come here.”
“Can you leave?” I asked.
“No. That’s not allowed once you enter the premises.”
“And you say this isn’t a prison?”
The young woman dropped her head and disappeared down the hall, her shadow tracing the wall from the crystal light fixtures as she walked. I examined the parcel. Its matte finish hid faint golden lines arcing across its surface. The material was light but strong, resisting the pressure of my thumbs as I cradled it between both hands. I slid the object into the cover of my book and left for my room for the remainder of the night.