BOOK 2: COMMUNITY / CH. 22:PLANNING FOR SATURDAY
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 9TH
“Have you heard from Hagar, Karen?” Her father greeted her from the breakfast table.
“About the job offer? That was very good of you, Daddy!”
“Good? It was an opportunity too good to pass up on! But yes, any answer, or guesses what the answer will be?”
“Is there a problem?”
Her father rubbed his face, a sign that Karen recognised. He needed more data for a decision, and he hated that. “Not really, I suppose. It's just if she's on staff then she and Yosuf come to the banquet, if she's not, they don't, and that affects the seating arrangements and who we invite.”
“What banquet?” Karen asked, curiously.
“Oops!” Maria said from the door, “James, have you been making decisions without consulting the people involved again?”
“Only slightly.” He gave Karen a guilty grin. “Sorry, Karen.”
“Come on, Daddy, own up. What've you done already, what can't be cancelled even if I kick and scream at you, and what important facts have you forgotten, other than these crutches and the fact that George is in hiding?”
“I remembered your crutches. You reminded me of them quite well yesterday when you almost took the vase off the table and my head from my shoulders.”
“And?”
“And I haven't actually sent the invitations out yet.”
“That's a relief,” Maria commented. “James, we both love you dearly, and I'm very glad you can be so decisive. But not in this sort of thing, please? You didn't need to have it all organised before breakfast.”
“I didn't manage to, fortunately it seems. OK, love. I'll see if I can cancel the food,” and he got up quickly and strode towards the door to his office.
“Wait a moment, Daddy!” Karen managed to call before he left. “Discussion first, please?”
“I thought...”
“That's nice dear, normally you do the deciding first then make up the reasons later,” Maria observed as she sat down.
“Now come and sit still for a bit, and we'll talk it all through.”
“Urm, am I interrupting something?” George asked hesitantly. “I can come back later.”
“It's OK, George! The girls are just ganging up on me again. I just need to repent in dust and ashes, let them have their fun at my expense and then the world can start turning again.”
“No, James, we're just happy that you're your own predictable self.”
“George, my beloved Daddy, thinking like the ambassador he is, decided that his daughter's engagement warranted a banquet. That might sound extravagant but actually given the size of the staff here anyway is a bit like John and Sarah deciding to cook pizza for everyone at the Institute twice in one week. But for a real banquet there need to be invitations, somewhat special food and so on, and guests.”
“Which is the bit where things get tricky, since presumably you'll want George there, James?”
“Urm, it'd be a bit odd without him.”
“I don't think that him being guest of honour exactly fits with him keeping a low profile, as in witness protection, does it, dear?”
“No, not really. Sorry. Forgot that significant detail. Not to mention that the default guest list now includes a known associate of cousin Roland.”
“Now, Daddy, quick question. What's the check-list look like?”
“Here, precious,” and he handed her a piece of paper. George was surprised to see real paper being used. Oh, it was still used for all sorts of things, but for keeping a list on? He asked Karen, [Real paper? Why?]
[Normal practice. Can't hack into it. Especially with Daddy's writing. Easy to destroy, too: add flame and it's gone. Plus not everyone has a wrist unit here.]
[Oh. Makes sense.]
She finished reading through the list. “OK, Mummy, Daddy, here's my suggestion. First off, we invite the people I grew up around. Retired staff, long term friends, people whose lap I crawled into. But not the high profile people you'd normally invite with their bodyguards and so on. Total guess thirty people on that list. Then it looks we've got enough meals for present staff and the soldiers too. So either we get the soldiers along to the banquet or they can stay in their own mess hall if that's no good for some reason, then their cooks can have a day off, and the soldiers get to eat the miniature portions you get at a banquet these days and appreciate the food their cooks normally provide. How about that?”
“Not bad, dear,” said Maria, “not bad at all. We'll have to save some food for the lads and lasses on duty, unless we make it some sort of prize to come.”
“Rights and duties mark two? That reminds me, have Henry and Sam — I guess Samantha — applied to marry yet, Daddy?”
“Oh, you had a hand in that, did you? Apparently they went straight off the plane to the base commander's office.”
“Not me, Mummy. She pointed out how silly it was to save for ages and then spend it all on a big wedding, when if they married they could be getting extra pay and enjoying each other's snoring.”
“I don't quite remember putting it like that, dear.”
“I know, Mummy, but it's a bit safer if we don't think other things they could be enjoying. Sorry, George.”
“Oh well. We can always elope if the feedback gets too bad,” George said.
“Feedback? And what's this about eloping?” James asked.
“Almost an occupational hazard,” Karen said.
“Depends on the occupation!” George said, blushing.
“Should we change the subject?” Karen giggled and blushed too.
“I don't think so, not without an explanation, my daughter,” Maria said sternly.
“Sorry, it's not funny, really it's not,” George said. “When we touch, or both touch the same piece of iron, our emotions get transmitted as well as our thoughts. The closer we are the better that emotional contact is.”
Karen continued: “We see it as a moral hazard this side of the wedding. As we grow deeper in love, our emotional reactions to each others’ feelings get stronger. George loves me, I love George and when I sense his love for me my reaction is to love him more right back, then he senses my love, which makes him love me more in response, and the emotions grow stronger until we break apart or, urm, get overwhelmed, I guess.”
“By their wedding day, John and Sarah couldn't hold hands for more than a second, let alone kiss.”
“So what happened in the wedding?” James asked.
“Well, Sarah had gloves on, or it would have been really tough, but when the pastor told them to kiss, well there were more than a couple whistles but they didn't care a bit,” George said.
“Longest, most passionate kiss I've ever seen in church.” Karen added. “Apparently it only seemed like a few seconds to them, they were so blissed out on each other.”
“And that ‘moral hazard’ awaits you two, does it?” James asked, concerned. “If it weren't for the trial and Karen's leg in plaster, we'd probably be thinking of marriage before the start of term. Just because we're certain about how we feel and don't want to play with temptation,” George said simply.
“We don't know if the proximity to the wedding day makes it stronger, or if it's more to do with how long we've been in love. Maybe just how much we love each other.”
“So, do you need to have more arguments?” Maria asked.
“Probably not. Given that argument followed by reconciliation is supposed to help the average romance,” Karen replied.
“And Karen would probably count deliberately triggering an argument to stop feedback as a self-sacrificial loving act,” George added, with a smile at his beloved.
“But really, it's not so bad. People have been coping with hormones for millennia, after all,” Karen said.
“Or not, depending,” Maria said.
“In some ways I think this might actually keep us safer,” George said. “We can't spend hours holding hands or give long hugs to each other without triggering this alarm clock called feedback. If we're going to avoid that, then avoiding the other is easy.”
“I see what you mean,” James said. “You've got such an obvious precipice that it's not the temptation that a gentle but slippery slope is?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Karen agreed. “Exactly. The problem is that the precipice encroaches and encroaches as time goes on, or as the wedding day approaches. So waiting for graduation doesn't sound sensible.”
“Nor is marrying while a student, really,” James said. “Finals are stressful enough without adding the stresses you get from getting used to sharing your lives together.”
“But maybe in your case, with you able to share thoughts, those stresses won't be as great, and the stresses of being apart are pretty massive too, if you remember, James. Let's hope all will be resolved in time for a Christmas wedding,” Maria suggested. “Though quite how you wear that dress in winter, Karen, I've no idea.”
“No outside photos?” suggested George.
“Fly the guests here?” James offered. “After all, there's that tradition of it being at the bride's home.”
“Ouch. That would cut down on the number of guests, wouldn't it.”
“Not as much as eloping would. What was that about?”
“That's Sarah's suggestion to escape organising the reception. We were thinking that if we ran off to get married we'd at least tell people where we'd be running to and when. But that maybe we'd just tell everyone to bring some food to share and avoid that side of it.”
“That sounds eminently sensible for a couple of students, but not so great for an ambassador's daughter. So it depends what you want to be,” James thought aloud. “Which reminds me. Different topic entirely, have you given any thoughts to your eventual career paths?”
“You mean, am I still thinking of geology, Daddy? Not really. It was a pretty dream, but not exactly sensible. Actually we were doing some thinking after Mummy's impromptu speech on the plane. Maybe the best place for us both is somewhere in the civil service, not that that narrows things down very much.”
“Well, that's a change of direction! And I can't say I'm not pleased that you're considering it. You'd certainly have job security and I think that even your normal abilities would be assets to the service. Maria, what do you think?”
“George has done some good work already and from what I've seen so far he'd do well in or out of service. Out you'd have more freedom of what you did and where you lived, but probably not that much more. In the service you'd equally have the opportunity to switch from one branch to another. Karen, see if you can guess where I think you'd fit well, my dear.”
“Analysis, Mummy, pulling facts together. Seeing patterns.”
“Yes, you're pretty good at that. I was also thinking you're good with people too. And numbers. So don't just think analysis, dear. It's a good start, but I think you've got the potential to move beyond that.”
“What are you saying, Mummy?”
“I'm saying that if you're serious about serving your country, dear, and if I'm not being biased by an extreme case of motherly pride, then I'd say you've probably got the potential to take over my job when I retire, or run another department. Not immediately of course, but eventually.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Mummy, if I were to take over your job, then there'd be accusations of nepotism.”
“Oh, all right then!” Maria laughed. “Take over your father's, no one would worry about a bit of nepotism here!”
“Daddy, in your professional opinion, what would the political classes here think of a woman ambassador who was a truth-sayer?”
“I think they'd run for the hills, precious, run for the hills and from there they'd declare war, so that they could kick you out.”
“So maybe that wouldn't work,” Maria sighed.
“Oh, I don't know. It might. We'd have to ask their majesties what they thought of empire building. I mean, just because the politicians have declared war on their biggest trading partner, there's no reason the people would obey.”
[George, don't look shocked. It's been a running joke for centuries. Said in almost every embassy. 'All we need to do is scare off their corrupt politicians decadent rulers etc. and the people would be happy to have us rule instead.' Page one of the guide for new ambassadors says, ‘Do not give us an empire — it's hard enough to run one country well, thank you.']
[Oh. Thanks, Karen, almost reacted badly there. Extreme ignorance again, what does an ambassador do?]
[Other than throw banquets, you mean?]
[Yes.]
“Daddy, George seeks enlightenment. Can you make him wish he'd never asked what an ambassador does while I grab Mummy for a few minutes?”
“What, he doesn't believe we're plotting a coup?”
“Oh, he did, but I persuaded him otherwise. You can finish the rest of the brainwashing.”
“Well, George, it's like this...” Karen heard as she and her mother left hastily.
“That was cruel, Karen.”
“Oh, I think Daddy will forgive me running out on him like that.”
“And George?”
“He wanted to know!”
“Maybe he wanted to know from you, dear.”
“Yes, Mummy, but you know how Daddy loves telling it. If I tell George he'll get the information but not the passion. I heard it so many times as a teenager that I could probably still recite it, but I'd be saying it flat.”
“OK, dear. The worst it can do if it goes wrong is limit your feedback for a bit, I suppose.”
“I suppose it might if George gets all enthusiastic and wants to talk about it more.”
“Karen, are you serious?”
“Not really, Mummy. No, not at all really. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. What's going on with uncle Roland? How is he managing to bribe his way out of prison, when all his assets were confiscated? How is he in contact with nephew what's his name, and who's in charge do you think?”
“Karen, in what role are you asking this? As interested observer, victim, one victim's friend and another victim's fiancée, truth-sayer curious to know more? Potential analyst in my department?”
“I'm not sure. But thinking of Pris, how's she doing?”
“Very glad to have the eye motion control, I can tell you. I'm glad George thought of that. As for her working on analysis, well, she's trying, and she's improving.”
“I'm glad. And uncle Roland?”
“I tend to agree with whoever it was that thought he was being pushed.”
“And the whole spill the beans thing makes a lot of sense if he was in contact with nephew, who would have got the disclosure document.”
“Yes. And what about your kidnap attempt? Give me a guess.”
“My guess, based on insufficient data. Evil nephew Ibrahim — it is Ibrahim, isn't it?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Evil Ibrahim somehow learns that he's got a kindred spirit in uncle Roland. Lusts after me, decides that if evil uncle Roland can capture me then that'd be great, bribes the probation board guy so he gets out of jail quickly and then after all the careful planning he fails to collect me, I don't know why, maybe because I didn't follow the map from the A.I., or maybe his plane gets delayed or something. Then Roland hears about me getting rescued. That is beyond his understanding of the power so he needs to do a quick experiment, hence Pris. Meanwhile evil Ibrahim has been building some kind of extra cellar for us. The crazy melodrama version is that he planned to fill it with explosives so that he could use it to force me to marry him, but I don't really think so. I wonder if the plan was to make it look like we had a hidden cellar and escape tunnel filled with incriminating evidence they could suddenly ‘discover.’ In any case Ibrahim has a cellar that Roland knows about and having sent out the gangs to cause chaos he sets out to cause some himself too. He gives Pris a message that can only get found by someone with the gift, and plans to do the same with George, and he's getting sloppy and the message is designed to get your 100% attention. I don't know why. Maybe it's his version of suicide, or it's a distraction from something else. I really don't understand why he or Ibrahim would worry about people being told about the power when the culture here has truth-sayers.”
“But did you take them seriously? Or were they a quaint cultural myth?”
“Good point. A very good point. So actually, Daddy's jumping the gun by employing one, isn't he?”
“Ooh, that's true, he should wait for publication, really, but never mind. He's had the disclosure document.”
“So, somehow Ibrahim is after something that disbelief about truth-sayers or mind-readers will play an important part of. Let's assume it's power, that he wants the presidency. How would the outside world not believing about truth-sayers help him get it?”
“Why just the outside world?”
“Pardon?”
“The president himself was educated back home. Maybe he doesn't believe in truth-sayers.”
“And therefore is vulnerable to manipulation too? But surely he'd have been told of the disclosure document?”
“You check with Kate who got it, dear. I expect it was Ibrahim, as he's the president's security advisor too now.”
“He is? I thought he was just an over-promoted policeman.”
“Yes, he was, but you know the system here, Karen.”
“Keep it in the family, yes. So, based on this, do we need to ask the president about truth-sayers?”
“Among other things. Yes, it would be promoting the public good. He's getting old, and young Ibrahim is pretty high on the list of successors.”
“I still don't understand how there can be such a thing as a hereditary presidency. Isn't that just a monarchy?”
“Well, it would be, except the country is still officially a republic. And there are still elections every ten years.”
“Mummy, I don't think people would really call them free and fair though, do you? ‘Dear name, living at your address, you do support the current president, don't you?’ doesn't really encourage dissent, does it?”
“Of course not. But over the decades the president has been reducing his powers to the extent that he's more of a constitutional monarch anyway. It's a pretty good approach I think.”
“I wonder what Ibrahim will do if he gains power.”
“Oh, almost certainly whatever he wants. That's the problem with a weak legal system and a poor constitution. Not to mention heirs being chosen because of their power-base rather than their dedication to service.”
“So while we don't stage a coup, letting the president find out about the rotten apple would be a good thing.”
“Of course, dear. We represent the view of our country, and our country can't stand by and let corruption go unchallenged.”
“So, if I remember correctly, I caused some diplomatic embarrassment by climbing onto his lap and asking him to sing me a song when I was three or four.”
“And told him that his beard tickled, and didn't he think it'd be better if he shaved it off. Yes.”
“So does he get invited to the banquet as an old friend?”
“I think perhaps it would be a good thing, but ask your father too.”
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“Mr ambassador, you asked to discuss a personal matter. I trust everything is all right? Or are you finally deciding to accept our offer of citizenship?”
“Yes, Mr. President, everything is all right. But you will I'm sure remember my daughter climbing on your lap and asking you why you didn't shave off your beard?”
“Yes, my friend. She has turned into a beautiful young lady. I am surprised that she does not have an army of suitors around her, but your ways are not ours.”
“No, they are not, my friend, but she has chosen one nonetheless. He has asked my permission to marry her. Who am I that I should deny my only daughter her choice, since he is a good man who will be able to care for her well?
So it is on this matter I come. We will not have a formal banquet with many important people to celebrate, instead she asks that we invite people she grew up with, friends who she has known for many years, who read her stories when she was little or sang to her. My friend, she remembered you in this category, and asks if you would like to come, not as president, but as a friend.”
“That is truly a happy event for you and I am very happy for you. When is the celebration? Soon, I expect?”
“Yes, she must be back at her job soon, the start of next week even. So I was thinking we would celebrate on Saturday evening.”
“I think that Saturday evening I am free, but I will make sure. I thank you for this invitation. My bodyguard may come?”
“Of course, my friend. We do not put you in danger. But if I may, my friend, I think I will also share with you, there, some things that are not for others’ ears.”
“My ears are yours, my friend. These things cannot be said now?”
“No, my friend, some are not yet sure, and I would not wish to share unverified rumour.”
“Speaking of unverified rumour, you asked for the release of the prisoner, I hear.”
“Yes, my friend. It is most unfortunate, the man had no guilt but his honour. If that man we found had tried to dig or to move earth then the doctors say he would very soon be paralysed, his back is so bad. It is impossible that he dug. He would not name the person he was talking to from honour, but clearly the digger was another. His wife tried to tell this to a guard at the embassy, almost every day, but the guard from pride did not admit that he did not understand. It is my shame that I only checked what she was saying yesterday. The real digger we also interviewed. He knew who had hired him, but had started to realise he had been tricked. They told him he was digging for gold, but there was none to be found.”
“I am surprised that he came forward.”
“Our cultures are very different, my friend, but it seems we from the west can learn from yours. I was surprised recently to meet a truth-sayer of great power and integrity. She was at the embassy when the digger came with his father. His father told the digger that he should allow the truth-sayer to read his thoughts.”
“Truth-sayers are a myth, my friend, a superstitious myth.”
“So I believed also once, but now I believe otherwise. Did you not receive the letter from the Institute for the Human Mind six weeks or so ago?”
“No, I do not recall one. What did it say?”
“That after centuries of looking they have found someone with the ability to read thoughts, and they were researching the person's abilities.”
“And they agree with the truth-sayer stories?”
“The letter said little except that gloves prevent it. But this I now know: they cannot really tell truth, but instead hear a person's almost-spoken thoughts. To do this they must have touch, or touch through iron, though other metal will work, even foil on a hard surface like wood. Like with hearing, they cannot stop this if they touch someone. And even without touch, it is hard to surprise them, for a decision is like a shout.”
“You have asked further then?”
“My friend, I spoke to the truth-sayer I spoke of earlier, but also to my wife. She had not said anything for fear of ridicule, but her brother who causes so much trouble, he also had this power as they grew up. She also spoke to the Institute when she was there last week. You have always seen her wearing gloves. This is the reason.”
“Ah, the power of ridicule. So she knew the stories rang true, but when everyone says they are superstition, she stayed silent?”
“Yes, my friend.”
“And I myself ridiculed the daughter of my friend, when she told me that she had some ability as a truth-sayer. She is a trustworthy girl to whom I have given a job after her father died. She cleans here. Will you stay? I would seek your advice in how to test her.”
“It is no difficult thing. But if it is your wish, of course.”
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The girl came in with trepidation. James guessed she was about Karen's age, but while she was quite pretty she looked like she had been tired and insecure for a long time. Now, she was outright terrified. It was not in her experience to be summoned by the president, for all that he had offered her the job when her father died.
The president spoke kindly to her. “You need not fear, daughter of my friend. You have done no wrong, though perhaps I have wronged you. When I asked what you could do you said you could cook and clean and thought you could become a truth-sayer. Am I right?”
“Yes, honoured President. That is what I believe.”
“And I did not believe you.”
“No, honoured President, you did not believe that truth-sayers were more than tricksters.”
“But you do not agree with me? Answer honestly.”
“I have had no training. I know no ritual or incantation, but if there is touch, I hear what is not said.” There was a little defiance in her final statement, as if daring the world to deny her this to her face.
“My honoured friend tells me what I would not believe before, that such a thing is possible. So I ask that you bury my last doubts.”
“Friend of my father, this I will seek to do if you wish it. Though how, I do not know.”
The president looked at James. “I suggest, Mr. President, that you think of something that you do not mind her knowing, perhaps a song or a poem. Perhaps you could shake the hand of this unmarried-one who is daughter of a friend to you, and she will tell you what you thought.”
“This is a good plan. Do you agree, daughter of my friend?”
“Yes, I agree. You are friend of my father, there is no impropriety.”
The president thought for a moment and then extended his hand and took hers.
“You do not trick me? You mean it? Friend of my father, are you truly serious? You provide me with such a dowry?”
“You are the only daughter of my good friend. I know he planned for you to have a good dowry, but the hospitals and doctors took what he had saved for you. You are an honest worker and trustworthy. You deserve a dowry, and a thousand is not really so much.”
“It is more than my father had saved, friend of my father.”
“But he should have had more years to work. I am sorry I did not think of it before. Choose your suitor wisely.”
“I know who I would choose, friend of my father, but his parents would not let him marry a girl with no dowry.”
“I also offer you a new job, daughter of my friend. You shall be truth-sayer to me, if you are willing.”
“But I know no ritual or incantation!”
“Ritual and incantation are of no help except to scare the ignorant. You can tell me what my relatives think as they come with plans to try to increase their power, this is enough.”
“I thank you, honoured President. I should tell you that I have heard the thoughts of one such, while I worked.”
“Tell me, daughter of my friend, if you think there is ill will.”
“Friend of my father, there was great disrespect. One told me that he was too busy to leave his room but wanted me to clean anyway. Then as I cleaned, he watched me and made a decision about me, and I heard it. He thought ‘the — term of disrespect I do not repeat — protects this one, but when he dies and I rule, then I shall rape this one also.’ I asked her who assigns tasks, and I do not clean in or near his rooms now.”
“I am glad that you have told me. Will you tell me his name?”
“My friend,” James spoke before she could answer, “before she speaks, I will write a name of one who has not controlled his eyes near my daughter. Perhaps it is the same man.”
“You do not fear her reading your thoughts and speaking what you write?”
“It is the liar who is easily caught, my friend. We can ask her who assigns tasks where this honourable daughter of your friend asked to avoid.”
“This is true, my friend. Then write who gazes without honour and we shall see if it is he who makes vile plans.”
Once Karen's father had written the name, she spoke. “It was Ibrahim, your nephew, honourable friend of my father.”
“That is he whose name I have written.”
“It is curious, my friend, that it would have been his task to tell me of the letter from your country also. I wonder what else he hides from me.”
“Honourable friend of my father, his bodyguard is rumoured as having the power of a truth-sayer among the staff. She who assigns tasks has warned me of this.”
“And perhaps this is the reason his bodyguard is with him so much, and he tells his bodyguard to act as a servant. It is not good. I think, my friend, that I must deal with this nephew of mine, before he decides he will not wait any more. I thank you for all you have said and for the invitation. Would it offend if I brought this one with me as well as my bodyguard? If she could talk to your truth-sayer, I think it would help her confidence, and I wish her to stay safe also.”
“It will not cause offence, my friend, and I will try to see to it that she sits beside the truth-sayer I wish to employ. I await her husband's permission, but I hope that he will agree.”
“The one you spoke of earlier?”
“Actually no, the one I spoke of earlier was only visiting. But I learned that the faithful wife of the wrongly imprisoned man is also a truth-sayer.”
“Hagar? You speak of Yosuf's wife, Hagar?”
“You know her?”
“Yes, honourable sir, yes. She is a friend of mine. I did not know she was a truth-sayer, though.”
“Her father-in-law thought that truth-saying was from evil spirits, and she did not want to offend him. Now he knows better and told her she must use her gift for good.”
“That is good news. I must speak to her!”