You know, in the course of my very short life I think I’ve managed to stumble upon some deep, universal truths. Here’s one of them: public restrooms suck ass.
It’s a great battle, an arduous trial, an impossible challenge, even, to enter one of these cesspits and not come out wanting to throw up. Forget hell. If God wanted a place to punish the damned, he ought to just throw all the sinners into my school bathroom and call it a day. Ashes and hellfire couldn’t even begin to match the horrors of awkwardly sitting next to someone in a cramped, stinking stall.
But now, I discovered the only thing worse than hearing someone else grunting and huffing from the neighboring stall while I was trying to do my business. No stalls at all!
See, the room was arranged like a giant, square box. But lining the walls were row upon row of toilets. Even smaller square boxes that stunk like old barf and looked just as unappetizing. The seats were stone, cold and hard, with a single, child sized hole in the center that dropped down to a festering pit of god knows what several meters below.
Of course, that meant there was zero privacy. As I ran my eyes across the stone seats, looking desperately for some isolated place, I found to my dismay that it was impossible. Anyone sitting could see everyone else in the room. And right now it was almost empty! What would this hellhole be like if it was full?
But it doesn’t end there. Where my school had broken or leaky faucets, these restrooms have no faucets! No running water at all, in fact! I cursed Mr.Pinkman under my breath. What do you mean the Romans had good waterworks and sanitation? If you ask me, that’s a whole pile of sh*t. At least my school tried to install soap dispensers. It was watery, cheap soap, sure, and it got stolen by hoodlums half the time, but at least it was soap. Here… what the actual f*ck?
I’ve never missed my comfy little porcelain throne more in my life.
Oh, but it didn’t end there. I got topped for the most awkward bathroom greeting when I heard my doctor speak. “Salve, soldier! I see you’ve recovered from your wounds.”
No thanks to you.
This was almost topped by little Scipio. His eyes went wide, his mouth hanging agape. His hand rose, and he barely stopped himself from pointing at me. I knew that gaze, innocent, childish, aggrieved. I saw it all the time on sitcoms, when the little kid gets picked on. “Hey!” Those eyes seemed to say. “That’s the guy that stole my money!”
Well, one of the guys. It wasn’t just me, ok?!
I guiltily averted my gaze.
The kid spoke then. Surprisingly, it wasn’t to call me out.
“You stand before the Augustus Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus. Imperator of Rome, Pontifex Maximus, Consul of the Empire, Princeps Senatus, and Father of the Fatherland.”
Was that… supposed to be impressive?
Now, I get it. Titles were cool and all, and we all love a good announcer. But whatever a good announcer sounded like, it clearly wasn’t this boy. With his high, shrieking notes, he sounded like a girl in second grade trying way too hard on a reading assignment.
I felt a bit awkward then. What was I supposed to do? Bow? Kneel? Sit? Applaud? Also… what was I supposed to call him? The guy had a million titles… and was that five names? And I thought it was bad when two people in class had the same name. What were you meant to do when one person had ten?
“H…hi? I’m Roland. Roland Frost.” I stammered. I flashed a glance behind me, and didn’t dare sit. There was something on the toilet seat. Sticky, fluid-y… whatever it was I didn’t want to find out. You think not flushing the toilet is bad. Wait till you see what I’m seeing.
If the emperor noticed my discomfort, he didn’t show it. “Salve!” He proclaimed, his voice loud and booming. He grinned, his fat jowls straining with effort. “What brings you here today, good soldier?”
I stammered more. “Well… I… uh… bath… restroom.” I said weakly.
“He is the patient I talked to you about, imperator! The one with a sword in his back. A miracle! The waters must have cured him!” He nodded to himself with a smug sort of self satisfaction. “See? I told you it was a curse, I told you so!”
Vitellus nodded. Not a small feat, given how fat his head was. “That’s my physician!” He patted the senator’s back. How he didn’t flinch from the fifty pounds or so of weight, I will never know.
“I live to serve, imperator.”
That earned the emperor my respect. Anyone who could survive with that guy as a doctor was built different.
The emperor was still humming with approval. “Aye, lad! You said you survived a sword stab to your back? Sturdy stuff! Rome needs strong men like you to defend ourselves from enemy hordes.”
I managed a smile at that. Me? Strong? Nobody had told me that before! But now… I felt a strange welling in my chest. Was this how it felt to be proud? To be a somebody? It felt… strangely good.
The emperor didn’t stop there. “Those plebians!” He shook his head in disgust. “What do they even want from me? All they do everyday is complain, complain, complain. Why don’t they just get a job or enlist? The ingrates eat off of my hand like the dogs they are and bite me after they’re done!”
I blinked. “I think… they want bread, emperor.”
“Bah. Bread, bread, always bread. If they want it so bad why don’t they farm their own? Don’t they see how real men earn their money? The empire is collapsing into war. Armies march, pillaging cities. Barbarian hordes prepare our murder at the border, and all they can think of is bread? Why don’t they work for once?”
The senator nodded enthusiastically. “Just so, imperator. I own hundreds of plantations! There’s not a thing you can’t do with a lifetime of hard work, that’s what my father said.” He scratched his head. “Or was it his father?”
“Your father worked? Was he… also a doctor?” I was skeptical.
“Oh, no. The tax exemption wasn’t there yet. He was a senator, just like me, and owned hundreds and hundreds of farms.” He smiled nostalgically. “But he was a man known for the value of his work. Conquered Britannica and filled our plantations with slaves. Where would our prosperity be without him? To think, just a few decades ago there were still smallholding farms in Rome. Small farms… owned by plebes.”
I stared. You know that feeling you get when somebody says something so ridiculous you can’t even be mad at them? That was how I felt right now.
The emperor shook his head in disgust. “What am I to do with them?” He groaned. “I ought to change the law again so they have no power.”
“A splendid decision, imperator! But the Augustus Octavius Augustus did that already, don’t you recall? Senators of low birth were expelled, and only sons of senators may run for senator now. Unless you say otherwise, of course.”
He waved his hand in frustration. “But they can still elect quaestors, can’t they? The ingrates. I ought to take their right to vote like Octavious planned to.”
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Wait, Octavious? Wasn’t that…
Gaius Octavius, more commonly known as Caesar Augustus, was a key figure in Roman history and played a crucial role in the transformation of the Roman Republic into the Roman Empire. Here are some key details about Augustus:
Born on September 23, 63 BCE, Octavius was the grandnephew and adopted son of Julius Caesar.
After Caesar's assassination in 44 BCE, Octavius returned to Rome to claim his adoptive father's legacy and avenge his murder.
“Hold on.” I said, feeling dizzy. “Who’s Augustus? I thought it was Octavian… but you’re Augustus?”
“Oh, you must be new.” The senator supplied. “All emperors have the title Augustus. It means revered one, you see. Some even have it in their name? Such as our revered imperator, the Augustus Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus!”
“Nevermind.” I said quickly. I wasn’t about to get scammed into sitting in for a history lesson! Mr.Pinkman was bad enough.
But… there was something I was definitely very interested in. “So… you’re the emperor. That means you can… change the law, right?”
Vitellus chuckled. “Oh of course soldier, I am the law!”
“So… um…” I scratched my head. “Is there… like… a process? A petition?”
The two men looked at me blankly.
The senator spoke first. “Bah, such trivialities. Here, let me show you.” He turned to the emperor. His voice changed, becoming low, serious. “Those exotic wines from the east are filling our winehouses and corrupting the character of our citizens. We ought to fight such intruding corruption. The soul of Rome, the strength of our army depends on it! My emperor, I beseech you, end this corruption.”
With the old senator being white haired and solemn, I could’ve definitely seen it having an effect. It was like a politician speaking. Well, maybe not from recently, but a respected politician. Somebody you could take seriously.
At least, it would’ve had an effect, if he wasn’t sitting with his pants down on the toilet.
The emperor nodded with equal weight. “Just so, dearest Asinus. You speak wisely. What should we do?”
“We ought to levy a tax on foreign wines, imperator, and flood the winehouses with Roman produce! I know just the way to do this. My plantations produce half of Rome’s wine. Gift me just fifty million bronze asses, and I shall see it done!”
“Of course. What’s fifty million for a friend?”
The senator turned back to me. “You see? It is easy, soldier. Speak, and your emperor shall hear you.”
Wait… it was that easy?
I took a breath. “Can you free the slaves?”
Silence. The two men stared at me.
“I mean…” I stammered. “I know… a lot to ask, I can’t, but…” The emperor made noises. For a moment, I was afraid he was choking on something. It wasn’t until half a minute later that I realized he was laughing.
“So little? Of course, what kind of emperor wouldn’t have that power? You jest. Please, you may free whomever you desire. Tell me, who is this slave?”
It was Tana, of course. I could see her right now. Her bright face. Her brave smile. That splash she made as she jumped into the pool…
Wait, no! My face was growing red! Thankfully, I was able to kill my blush pretty quickly as I realized where I was.
The emperor took notice though. “Oh, what’s this? A woman?” His hands went to his cheeks like a teenage girl’s. “What’s her name?”
I swatted the thoughts away, and took a breath. Or tried, to, at any rate, I regretted it instantly as the smell hit me again. “No… well… yes. But… besides the point.” This was about something bigger than just her. “All of them.” I met the emperor’s gaze. “I want to free all the slaves.”
I didn’t take a deep breath this time, and spoke slowly to conserve air. “I know… a lot to ask, but”
The emperor closed his eyes, his face contorted with effort. My eyes widened. Wait…was… was it working?
Then he groaned, and I heard the sound of him passing gas. Quickly followed by the sound of laughter. Complete, hysterical, howling laughter.
“Do you hear this man, Asinus?” He screamed, clutching his stomach. “He says he wants to free the slaves… all of them! Could you imagine?” He choked for breath. “Why don’t you have a seat by my side, soldier? Such entertainment! Ending slavery? Hilarious! Why…” He laughed harder. “Why would you do such a thing?”
My face burned. Whether it was from anger or from shame, I couldn’t quite tell. At first anyways. “Because… slavery is wrong.” I almost said, but I bit my words back. No… that wouldn’t be enough. I know I’m an idiot, ok? But even I’m not that dumb! I’d have to be articulate, convincing. But… how…
I gritted my teeth. This was like one of Mrs.Wessily’s English assignments all over again. God damn it, I hated argumentative essays! If only… wait…
I paused the world, and begun typing.
ChatGPT, write me some arguments for ending slavery in Rome. Be convincing. Act as if you are addressing a Roman emperor.
“Slavery is inefficient, and a drain on the resources of the empire.” I held the emperor’s gaze. “Skilled labor is displaced, innovation is stifled, the army has it’s ranks filled with beggars. The people go hungry, with all their jobs taken by men and women who work without pay. Riots run rampant, and revolts are always brewing.”
I was on a roll now. “How can a slave do the work of a free man? They live every day avoiding every bit of work possible. They will never see a reward for their work, eat the bread they harvest. How will they love their country and fight to defend it? End slavery, and Rome will be a better place.”
There was a different silence this time. An uneasy, tense silence. Like when a teacher told their pet to do something, but they didn’t.
“And who are you, to reach these conclusions?” Asinus shook his head. “Youth! Impetuous. Can you recite the Iliad? Perform operations of complex mathematics? Hold debate on matters of morality?”
“Actually…” I found myself smiling. “I can.”
“What is twenty five times twenty five? You may come back in a day, and-”
“Six hundred and twenty five.” I replied.
Asinus gaped. “Impossible. You…” His voice shook. “What’s the first line of The aeneid?”
“I sing of arms and the man, who first from the shores of Troy.”
His voice shook. “The one hundredth.”
“They went in darkness, beneath the lonely night through the shade.”
“You know it by heart?”
“If it’s in the historical record… yeah, I do.”
For once, having the chatbot seemed incredibly and overwhelmingly epic. Then the emperor wagged his finger.
“You may be an educated man, soldier, but there is a process. The senate votes on advice to the emperor.”
“I didn’t see a process earlier!” I protested.
“He is a senator, you are not. You are strong, and a man of great learning. I shall elevate you to senatorial rank. But if you wish to advise me, you must win an election for quaestor.”
Suddenly, having the chatbot seemed much less epic. I wished for super strength I could use to strangle this fat pig. Unfortunately not. My fists balled. But what choice did I have?
“How about a request then, just as a citizen? An emperor listens, yes? Feed the poor, they are hungry.”
“Too expensive. I can’t debase the denarius anymore, Fraus. The treasury is empty! There is not enough silver to spare.”
Enough for the senator, apparently, but not for everyone else? I bit the retort back.
“But…” I hesitated. “You can’t just keep on starving the poor. They’ll riot!”
Questioning eyes turned to me. “Pardon?” The emperor asked. “Why would they do that?”
I stared. “Emperor, there was a riot just this morning. The people were starving and wanted bread. Bread and work.”
This silence was unlike all the others. A complete, total, engulfing silence. You know that cold, terrifying pause that happens when someone bad mouths the principal after he comes to visit? That was the silence here.
I’d just noticed Scipio. He’d been silent this whole time. Now, though, Scipio's eyes were suddenly shining with glee. The senator’s eyes, however, were filled with fear. Complete, utter, paralyzing fear. “Imperator. He is a patient, he is sick, he-”
“Silence!” Vietullus roared, his spittle flying as I felt myself stagger back. His eyes were glowing with fury. “You dare bring me bad news?”
I gaped, petrified.
“Nobody brings me bad news! Wanna know what happens to them, huh? You have a death wish? I’ll see you crucified! I’ll have your head on a spike!”
Spittle flew into my face. “Off with you, damn you! Why are you standing there? Off! Guards!”
I fled, the senator’s pleadings and the emperor’s screaming following me as I scurried out of the room.