EMPIRE: Renewal

by Richard F. Weyand

  “Yes, sir. We are talking several thousand credits.”

  “Of course. Suitable for an audience with the Emperor.”

  The manager just nodded. It was a colloquialism, almost a slogan.

  “The overall effect we are trying to achieve? Celebrity? Politician? Businessman?”

  “Academic. Historian.”

  “Ah. Very good. And our timeframe?”

  “You have all afternoon and into the evening if you need it. Then a refresh tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. He can leave the new clothes here tonight and you can redress him in the morning. His appointment with His Majesty is at ten, and we have to be at the Palace entrance by nine-thirty.”

  The manager did a double-take at that. He recovered and gestured Ardmore to follow him.

  “Very well. Come this way, Mr. Ardmore.”

  “Go ahead, Jimmy. I’m going to run some errands and be back later. Just trust them and do whatever they say. See you later.”

  The remaking of James Philip Ardmore began with putting a facial mask of some kind of goop on his face. They then took him into a bath and had him strip down and get in the water. He kept his hands under the water as instructed. They left him there for half an hour, then a couple of fellows came in and moved him to a shower, where he sat in a waterproof chair.

  They scrubbed his hair, twice, then added a conditioner. They washed off the facial mask. Then they scrubbed him down, head to foot, paying special attention to the calluses on his feet, elbows and knees. Finally, they dried him off and applied a skin moisturizer over his whole body. They had him put on a pair of boxer trunks and took him to a tailor.

  The tailor took a complete set of measurements from Ardmore, hmming and aahing as he worked. The tailor then took him to a hair dresser’s chair in a private room.

  The stylist looked at his unruly hair with a clinical eye. He measured the diameter of a strand of Ardmore’s hair, inspected its curl, eyed the spin of the hair on the crown of his head. He projected on the wall in front of Ardmore the photograph of a hair style.

  “If I might suggest this, sir. I think it would be best for your purposes out of what is possible.”

  It looked great to Ardmore.

  “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  While that had been going on, a pedicurist had been going after his feet. She continued to work while the stylist snipped away at his hair. It felt really weird to be handled at both ends like that, but he just sat back and relaxed. He would look like he did, however this came out. It’s not like he didn’t make the effort.

  When the hair stylist was done with his hair, a barber came in and shaved Ardmore very closely and carefully. He left. The pedicurist set her tray aside and washed her hands thoroughly. She picked up another tray and started working on his hands. When she was done, a facialist came in. She laid his seat back until his head was almost in her lap, then went over his face one square inch at a time, with lighted magnifiers, scrubbing this and poking at that and scraping at the other thing.

  An aroma therapist came in and applied anti-perspirant to his armpits, then aftershave to his face. A makeup artist came in and offered Ardmore a choice of skin hues. She recommended just a slight tan, to be achieved with a medication.

  “Are there side effects to this stuff?” Ardmore asked as she prepared a pulse injector.

  “If you go dark enough and persist long enough, yes. For a light tan for a few days, no.”

  She injected him, and then left. The manager entered.

  “This way, please, Mr. Ardmore.”

  The manager took him back to the tailor, who had Ardmore get dressed in clothes he had acquired in the hours since he’d last seen him. The business suit he’d selected would have been appropriate for a professor at the Imperial University of Center, at least if you were talking about a department head or the president of the university.

  The tailor stepped back and looked Ardmore up and down.

  “It needs a little something.”

  He cocked his head.

  “Do you have some sort of pin or something for the lapel?”

  “They gave me a PhD pin from IUC when I got the doctorate.”

  “This is the logo of the university with ‘PhD’ on it, on a little banner, yes?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “This I have seen. It would be perfect. Please bring it with you tomorrow.”

  They took Ardmore to the mirror so he could check their work. He couldn’t believe it was himself standing there, but when he moved his hand, the apparition in front of him also moved. He was still big, but not slovenly. In fact, he looked like a successful businessman.

  Fullman came in then, looking around. Ardmore heard him and turned to look at him. When he did, Fullman did a double-take.

  “My God, Jimmy. Is that you?”

  “I was just asking myself the same question. Apparently so.”

  “Well, you look good. Damn good.”

  “Everyone approves?” the manager asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Fullman said. “That’s perfect. Nice job.”

  “Thank you, sir. If Mr. Ardmore would care to change back into his street clothes, then, we can hold these and see you in the morning.”

  “And what are the damages for this triumph?” Fullman asked.

  “Thirty-seven hundred credits.”

  “Pay him, Jimmy. Make it forty-five hundred. Such a wonderful job deserves a commensurate gratuity.”

  “All right,” Ardmore said.

  He pushed the bank transfer to the store.

  “Very generous, sir.”

  Ardmore went off to change while Fullman and the manager waited.

  “And we’ll see you in the morning for the touch-up?” Fullman asked.

  “Of course, sir. I did calculate that into today’s charges as well, so there will be no additional fees at that time.”

  “Perfect. You really did a wonderful job.”

  Fullman walked Ardmore to the salon the next morning, then on to the Imperial Palace West entrance.

  “You really look great, Jimmy.”

  “I feel good. I don’t know, Bob. Something about knowing you’re looking good just gives you an uplift somehow.”

  “Now you know why people do it. OK. Here we are. When you’re done and on your way back out, send me a message and I’ll come and meet you, alright?”

  “OK. See you then. And, Bob? Thanks for everything.”

  Ardmore walked through the sliding smoked-glass doors in the black marble facade, under the brass letters spelling out IMPERIAL PALACE. He walked up to the counter on the right. The clerk clearly had pictures of this morning’s appointments, and a good image search algorithm.

  “Good morning, Dr. Ardmore. Just one moment, please.”

  A page came out of a side door behind the counter.

  “Dr. Ardmore to see His Majesty,” the clerk said.

  The page nodded.

  “This way, please, sir.”

  The page led Ardmore through the back sliding doors of the lobby to a people mover station. A car sat there waiting. They got in and sat down, and the car zoomed off through a tunnel for a few minutes before pulling up at another stop, this one marked Imperial Palace.

  The page waved Ardmore off the car and led him through another set of sliding glass doors and across a broad cross-corridor to an elevator bay. They rode up in the elevator in silence.

  At their stop, the page led Ardmore to a receptionist.

  “Dr. Ardmore to see His Majesty.”

  “Thank you,” she said to the page, and he left.

  “Dr. Ardmore, come this way, please.”

  She led Ardmore through a glass door into an office hallway. They walked down the hallway to a door, on which she knocked once and then entered.

  “Stephanie, Dr. Ardmore to see His Majesty.”

  “Thank you, Marge. Dr. Ardmore, this way, please.”

  She went to a door in the back of
the outer office, knocked once, and opened it.

  “Dr. Ardmore to see His Majesty, Mr. Moody.”

  “Excellent,” Moody said. “Come in, Dr. Ardmore, come in. It’s good to meet you.”

  “And to meet you, sir.”

  They shook hands and then Moody walked back around to sit behind his desk, waving Ardmore to a chair.

  “I’m Edward Moody, His Majesty’s Personal Secretary. Just a few things before I take you in to His Majesty.

  “The first time you speak to him, you should address him as ‘Your Majesty,’ after that address him as ‘Sire.’ Every time you speak to him works best. His Majesty does not shake hands. You should stand until he asks you to sit, and remain seated unless he asks you to stand. Of course, if he stands, you should stand as well.

  “I think that’s about it. Keeping your answers short is usually best. If His Majesty wants more, he will ask. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, Mr. Moody. I think that’s clear enough.”

  “Excellent. We’ll go right in, then. His Majesty is most anxious to speak with you.”

  Moody got up from the desk, walked over to a side door and knocked once, then opened it.

  “Dr. Ardmore is here, Your Majesty.”

  The Historian And The Emperor

  When Ardmore walked into the Emperor’s office, Drake waved him to a seat in front of his desk.

  “Be seated, Dr. Ardmore.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,”

  The Emperor Augustus VI was clearly very old. He reminded Ardmore of his great-great-grandfather, which brought a wave of nostalgia and remembrance. It also reminded Ardmore of how he had gotten here. One didn’t see many people the Emperor’s age, because the nanites that allowed such advanced age were no longer available to the common man.

  For Drake’s part, Ardmore was more impressive in person than in the photographs Drake had seen. He was solidly built, and more than a little overweight, but he had clearly sought professional help in preparing for this meeting, which spoke to his– something. Professionalism, perhaps? Common sense? Many men would not seek assistance on appearance matters.

  “Dr. Ardmore, I have been reading your book, ‘Power & Restraint.’ I find it well researched and compelling.”

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “I want to talk to you about it, but I need to ask you to be as honest as you possibly can. And as frank. I do not need sugar-coating or sycophancy. I’m rather oversupplied with those at the moment.”

  Ardmore smiled. He could well imagine. Honest answers might be the most valuable and rarest of commodities to an Emperor.

  “I understand, Sire. Yet honest and frank answers may not be what others might consider appropriately complimentary to His Majesty and his immediate predecessors.”

  “That is their problem, Dr. Ardmore. I need honest and frank answers from the one and only person in this Empire who has thoroughly researched and documented, against considerable odds, the early Emperors. I need to know what they did, why they did it, and how to replicate it.”

  Ardmore’s eyebrows shot up. Replicate it? Really?

  “I think I see, Sire.”

  “Which is to say you don’t. Dr. Ardmore, I am not unaware, though no one will tell me so, that the Empire is in a spiral of decline, and has been for a hundred years. That is your position as well, I take it.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “I have been on the Throne now for fourteen years, Dr. Ardmore. I have tried to stem this decline, to reverse it, with measures here and there, none of which have made a damn bit of difference. Yet I sit here, at the center of power, and I swore oath before the Throne to do the best I could for two and a half quadrillion human beings. If anyone should be able to do something to stem the decline, I should. I must, to fulfill my oath. I could never figure out how to do that. But you have figured out how, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Sire. That is, I know how the Four Good Emperors ruled, and I know the differences between that and how the Empire is ruled now. What I don’t know is which things are necessary and which things aren’t. I can’t say, ‘Oh, of the things they did, you should do this and this. These other things aren’t important.’ That is a very complex analysis, and would take considerably longer.”

  “An analysis they must have done themselves, Dr. Ardmore, through trial and error if nothing else.”

  “Yes, Sire. Over a period of decades. And they relied on the centuries of experience of the Empresses of Sintar, as well.”

  “Which, in a hundred years, we have managed to squander, Dr. Ardmore?”

  Ardmore squirmed in his seat. This edged close to what had recently been considered treason.

  “Honest and frank answers, Dr. Ardmore, please. You are not in any personal danger for anything we discuss today. I need the truth.”

  Ardmore took a deep breath, released it slowly.

  “Yes, Sire. We have squandered our legacy, and will reap the just deserts if things are not put right.”

  Drake nodded.

  “I noted in your book at least one of the two, Emperor or Empress, had degrees in history for all four of the Good Emperors, as you called them, Dr. Ardmore. And none since.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “A deficiency that has earned dividends, I’m afraid.”

  Drake sighed before continuing.

  “Let’s talk some specifics now, Dr. Ardmore. Let’s start with your book’s title. I certainly see the wielding of power, in such a way as the Emperor has not in a hundred years. Wherein lies the restraint?”

  “The Four Good Emperors typically wielded power against other branches of the government, Sire, as well as against internal and external forces intent on damaging the Empire. But they did not exercise power against the people of the Empire. Instead, they enforced restraint on the government itself, to protect the people from the government.”

  “Expand on that, Dr. Ardmore.”

  “Yes, Sire. In ending the Wollaston Insurgency, for example, the Emperor Trajan bombed the city of Savannah, the center of the insurgency, killing something like twenty million people. In the Sintar-Alliance War, aware of the Alliance’s war vote, he preemptively attacked the Alliance navies as they assembled, killing, as near as a count has been made, some ten billion members of the Alliance armed forces. In the Democracy of Planets-Sintar War, he killed all three and a half billion occupants of the DP capital planet of Olympia, including women and children, rendering the planet uninhabitable for centuries. The Emperor Trajan II executed five sector governors at his coronation by bombing the sector governor residences on five planets, right in the middle of their capital cities, killing hundreds. There are numerous examples of the exercise of Imperial power throughout what I might consider the Golden Age of the Empire, but all against threats to the Empire.”

  Drake nodded. Ardmore was in his element now. His eyes shone.

  “And restraint, Dr. Ardmore?”

  “There were hard caps on taxes, at the Imperial, sector, provincial, and planetary levels, imposed by the Emperor. The sector governors’ authority was strictly bounded. Failure to stay within those bounds after repeated warnings often resulted in removal from office, if not treason charges and summary execution. No tariffs were permitted within the Empire, and no bans on sector imports were permitted. There was no censorship of any kind, much less of a book that might discuss nothing more than the facts of history. The Four Good Emperors restrained their own government from any such actions against the interests of the people writ large.”

  “I see, Dr. Ardmore. The restraint was composed of the restraints they imposed on the government.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “The caps on taxes I find interesting, Dr. Ardmore. How did they manage to rule and do such great things with a smaller levy?”

  “Consider, Sire. How much money does it cost to preemptively examine and censor everything published in an Empire of two and a half quadrillion human beings? How many people are involved in that? Surely,
computers do keyword searches and the like. But every book, every newsfeed, every video entertainment? How many people does that take? How much tax money is squandered on this suppression of the people’s expression? Could that money – the people’s money – not be put to better use?

  “Another expense they did not have is the bureaucracy. Four thousand department heads reported directly to the Throne. They each had their charter, and they did their jobs without all the management overhead and interference. Supervisory groups existed at the top – Projects, Budgets, Oversight, Troubleshooting, Investigations, and Consulting – but there was no intermediate management. Trajan actually executed the bureaucracy the day he took the Throne, for conspiring to murder his sister, the Empress Ilithyia II. He didn’t separate the wheat from the chaff, he executed them all, several layers deep, and he never replaced them. We didn’t get the reestablishment of an expensive, meddling, and corrupt bureaucracy until Augustus II.

  “For another great waste of tax money, consider the Imperial Press Office. In Emperor Trajan’s day, the Imperial Press Office was one fellow who wrote very terse press releases. In the book I give several examples, my favorite being: ‘The Imperial Guard and Imperial Marines today carried out death warrants against one hundred and twelve individuals who conspired to murder the Emperor, his family, and staff. List follows.’ When that fellow went home for the weekend, the Imperial Press Office was closed until Monday. Today there are thousands of people in the Imperial Press Office. It’s a twenty-four hour operation, with daily press conferences. There’s a video division that produces pabulum PR videos at ridiculous expense. There’s a tourism division that does brochures on the Imperial Palace and Imperial Park, also at ridiculous expense. And what is your current popularity rating, as compared to that of either Trajan I or II, or Antoninus, or Augustus the Great?”

  “I’m not within thirty percentage points of any of them, Dr. Ardmore.”

  “You see, Sire. The whole Imperial Press Office operation is a colossal waste of money.

  “As for tariffs and import bans implemented by the sector governors, and now, increasingly, by the provincial governors, they hamper the efficiency of the economy and reduce the gross domestic product. The Four Good Emperors were levying a lower tax rate against a larger tax base per capita. They actually collected more money from each person, but it was a lower percentage of their incomes.