1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.3 An Enchanting Original
1.2.3.24 Nomia
Just as Kafana was wondering if things could get any gloomier, Bungo resumed speaking.
Bungo: “It isn’t just authoritarians. The same applies to any situation where middle-managers compete against each other for attention from above. Whether they are ruthless and selfish, or just good at manipulating others, if someone isn’t a player - someone with agency who acts upon others as well as getting acted upon themselves, they’ll tend to lose against an equally skilled employee who does play the game. The game will only remain as healthy as the person policing it forces it to be. It takes constant weeding.”
Kafana: “So you’re saying that powerful organisations will always attract ruthless people, willing to do anything in the name of making the organisation even stronger in order to win personal advancement. And if the organisation is in a power struggle against an external competitor, it most likely can’t afford to sack them all?”
Bungo: “Yep.”
Kafana: “I can see that happening with self-sufficient countries, but what about companies that rely upon customers purchasing their products? Wouldn’t a poor reputation from behaving badly damage their sales figures and provide an incentive for the owner of the company to police the managers?
Bungo: “When you stayed at hotels during your singing career, would you prefer the one which got its water from Thirsty Bear or the one whose contract was with Azure Fountain?”
Kafana: “Thirsty Bear is only used by areas putting suppliers out to tender and accepting the lowest bidder. Azure Fountain has a much better reputation - I’d go with them, given a choice.”
Bungo: “Both companies are owned by the same conglomerate. Different name, different logo, different type of adverts, but the same specification water pumping stations and the same water reservoirs.”
Kafana: “Well crap. Now I feel a fool. You’ve really looked into this, haven’t you?”
Bungo: “I lost count of how many times Bulgaria told us ‘Know Thy Enemy’. So when I came face to face with how companies from around the world have been behaving in Africa, screwing the locals over and supporting all kinds of bastards, I started piecing things together, reading the things academic researchers have been saying for decades.”
Kafana: “Ok, summarise it for me. I asked you for your take on the big picture. What’s the problem you see. Elites?”
Bungo: “No, there will always be elites. Tomsk is an elite martial artist. Alderney is an elite designer. The problem is to do with elitism, which is subtly different. Elitism is rule by a power elite, rather than the ultimate control resting with the populace. Or rather, a belief that such rule is the natural order of things. Back in the days of monarchs and the divine right of kings, everybody was an elitist, but there were limits on how far even an absolute monarch could go, before the people started building barricades or the barons rebelled.”
Kafana listened carefully and waited for him to continue.
Bungo: “The problem is the rate at which technology now changes has outpaced the rate at which human nature has adapted, leaving an increasing gap between the ruler’s ability to bamboozle the populace, and the populace’s ability to resist being bamboozled. This has decreased the stability of governmental systems that use the populace to keep the power elites in check, resulting in them having free rein to use their power to warp the system to give them even more power and, worse, to also use their power to self-improve their abilities to bamboozle and otherwise keep a grip upon the reins of power. As a side effect, not only has inequality got worse, so have absolute standards of living, in many ways. We’re less able to travel, less able to speak freely, less able to get jobs, less able to express ourselves. Mostly we’re poorer, more desperate, more stressed and depressed, more lacking in hope. We’re divided, separated, spied upon, manipulated, deceived and distracted. And we’ve accepted it as inevitable, those who can bear to think about it at all.”
Stolen story; please report.
This was the real Bungo she was seeing. No hesitation, no worrying about how she’d perceive him. He was speaking with confidence and with passion.
Kafana put her approval into her voice: “But you’ve had the courage to think about it; to face the unpalatable. And if you’ve gone this far, you must have had some thoughts about solutions.”
Bungo blushed.
Bungo: “I do, but let’s get out of here first. I think the rain’s letting up, and I’ve got an idea about the stream we walked up next to.”
Kafana packed up the remains of the cold supper she’d laid out, while Bungo tried to wipe the mud off his shiny parade shield, then they set out together down towards the cleft where the stream started. Once off the peak it was noticeably darker and the time indicated that evening was approaching.
Bungo: “From the description you gave of the water spirit at Signora Moda, I think it may have been an undine. Well, from the broken arch by the pool in the botanic gardens and that painter’s story about Nomia being a daughter of Tunita, which is the big river running through Torello, I’m wondering if Nomia might be not just the name of this stream, but also the name of an undine living in it.”
Kafana: “You want me to try getting in contact with her?”
Bungo: “Yes. If she likes you, maybe she’ll let us float down the stream on one of your water platforms. It would be a lot quicker than walking all the way back.”
Kafana gave him a look: “You know, there’s a very thin line between being an efficient genius, and just being lazy.”
Bungo: “Hey, I’m being public spirited here. I could jump all the way to the bottom on a gust of wind.”
Well now, there was a challenge. She stepped into the middle of the rain-swollen stream and sent out her thoughts.
Kafana: Nomia? Nomia?
She felt something rushing up the stream, and waited for it.
Kafana: *friendship*
The top half of a female figure emerged from the stream’s surface so they were face to face. It wasn’t as distinct as Mor had been, but it was definitely feminine, and was draped in mostly opaque folds of water that approximated Kafana’s own clothing.
Nomia: Hello? Long time, long long time, since I last spoke to one of your kind.
Kafana: I am Kafana, and the dry one standing on the bank there is my friend Bungo.
Nomia: Then I will not eat him. It has been a long time, though, since any offerings were made to me. Once they sent me a fine bull every midwinter, and a fine ram every midsummer, and in return I did keep their animals healthy and free of predators.
Kafana: I think the last Covadan who remembered the exchanges died long, long ago too. We are a short-lived race. Would you like me to remind them?
Nomia bared her teeth, which were shark-like. Possibly it was intended as a smile though it was hard to tell.
Nomia: As you wisssssh. I did like the taste of bull.
Kafana: Then I shall. Oh, and here’s a small bit of beef. May we travel your length in safety?
She drew a large chunk of uncooked beef from her stash and passed it respectfully to Nomia.
Nomia licked it, letting the blood drip over her face as she took her time savouring it. Kafana created a leaf-shaped coracle out of water and waved to Bungo to board it quickly. He did, if slightly reluctantly, keeping a close eye upon Nomia.
Kafana: “No backing out. It was your idea, and I’m relying upon you to save me if I hit my head on a rock.”
The small make-shift boat gathered speed as the stream grew wider and deeper and the slope of the hillside increased. Bungo kept a one-handed death-grip on the edge of his seat, trying to madly paddle with the other when they seemed about to hit rocks. He didn’t quite twig that she had absolute control over the motion, until she brought it to an abrupt halt in order to point out a particularly beautiful flock of birds, wheeling and turning in the post-rainfall air against the setting sun. After that he relaxed and enjoyed the ride, even whooping with enthusiasm as they dodged between rocks or went crashing down over an occasional half-meter high fall.
Enjoyable, that is, until she remembered the big waterfall waiting for them at the bottom of the stream, and the pointy statue full of bees below it.