by E. M. Foner
“I won’t use the images if the collection is just random nonsense,” the reporter said. “I’ll ask somebody at the paper to check.”
“The Vergallian titles are all legal books and treatises on governing, mainly written for queens. The only English titles Flower thought worth stocking are from the For Humans collection.”
“That’s even better then,” Dianne said, spotting the distinctive spines of the trademarked series. “They’re published by a division of the Galactic Free Press so it’s good publicity for us. Did Flower pick out the furniture as well?”
“Initially she did, but Vivian made her take most of it back, and then insisted I go shopping with her,” Samuel said, looking even more embarrassed. “This desk cost more than I saved working for the Vergallian embassy last year.”
“Well, I did hear that the Human Empire is backed by the All Species Cookbook, so I don’t imagine a little splurge on office furnishings is going to hurt.”
“Vivian paid for the new furniture herself. She says if we get fired, we can take it with us and start a new business.”
“That’s right,” Vivian announced her presence from the door. “If the Human Empire gets into financial trouble, we’ll move out the furniture we own and replace it with rentals from Flower. I’m going to put the coffee on but I’ll be back in a minute. Do you take anything in yours, Dianne?”
“One sugar,” the reporter replied, and Vivian disappeared again. “She seems to know a lot about business. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Her brother and my sister are pretty sharp too,” Samuel said. “I seem to take after my mother when it comes to business sense.”
“So what did the future first administrator of the Human Empire want to be when he grew up?” the reporter asked, settling into the chair next to the expansive desk.
“First Administrator,” Samuel repeated as if it was a formal job title. “I like that. It doesn’t make it sound like we’re putting ourselves on the path to royalty, and it could work as a permanent job title for whatever my position here turns out to be. Like the first officer of a ship, or First Consul on a Vergallian Fleet world.”
“Feel free to use it,” Dianne said. “In fact, we can roll it out in my article if you want. But seriously, readers like to see a little background in an interview with somebody important who they’ve never heard of. What did you want to be when you were growing up?”
“A space engineer,” Samuel replied, figuring it would sound better than admitting his early aspiration to become a Vergallian gentleman and a consort to a queen. “But a year at the Open University convinced me that I was wasting my time. The math was just too much, even with my background from the station librarian’s experimental school. And I guess I had an aptitude for statecraft after growing up with an EarthCent ambassador for a mother. When I started taking the diplomacy courses, I knew it was the right decision.”
“Some people would call your mother THE EarthCent Ambassador,” Dianne prompted.
“She’d be the first one to tell you that’s not the case,” Samuel said. “Mom doesn’t know herself how she ends up in the middle of so many historic events, but all of the EarthCent ambassadors have pretty impressive track records. It may be as simple as the fact that the Grenouthian news network is headquartered on Union Station so it’s a logical place to stage diplomatic summits.”
“The Galactic Free Press is also based out of Union Station,” Dianne pointed out.
“Humans are the only ones who read that,” Samuel said, and then corrected himself. “Humans and some Open University students, because it’s free and it has a great local classified section that lists all of the bands playing in off-campus bars, plus coverage of the LARPing leagues.”
“I understand that you chaired the Open University committee responsible for vetting student business proposals for Flower while she was being refitted for her current mission at Union Station. I interviewed the Grenouthian director of Everyday Superheroes last season, and he said that if you hadn’t selected his proposal to start an immersive training studio on Flower, he would probably be eking out a living on the regional theatre circuit.”
“He made a very strong proposal, though from what I’ve heard, Flower immediately roped him into starting multiple theatre groups as team sports. Then they went into the anime business together so his original concept never really got a chance. Do you know Razood, the Frunge blacksmith?”
“Everybody knows Razood,” Dianne said. “When you visit Colonial Jeevesburg, you can usually hear him hammering away at the forge.”
“Our student committee actually passed on his business proposal but Jeeves decided to sponsor him directly. In the end, we only approved around a dozen businesses, so it’s not like we had a major impact.”
“I think you’re too modest,” the reporter told him. “I interviewed Flower about the new Open University campus she launched during our last circuit, and it turns out she began planning for it after your committee visited her. It took a deal of convincing and years of good behavior on Flower’s part to persuade the Stryx to expand the franchise.”
“They take the Open University seriously,” Samuel said. “I suppose they wanted to make Flower work for it enough that she would do the same.”
Vivian entered with a tray and handed Dianne a coffee. Then she set the tray on Samuel’s desk, took her own mug, and sat in the remaining open chair. “What have I missed?”
“We were just talking about the student committee for outfitting Flower at the Open University,” Samuel told her. “How did you make the coffee so fast?”
“I don’t really know myself,” she admitted. “It’s the first time I’ve used the new machine, and as soon as I poured the beans in the top, coffee started coming out the bottom. I didn’t even hear the grinder.”
“Oh, this is good,” Dianne said after taking a tiny sip. “It’s hot, but not too hot.” Without setting the mug down, she used her other hand to navigate through a couple of menus on the reporter’s tab on her lap. “Do the two of you mind if I record this?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” Samuel said, and looked at Vivian.
“I can always ping Aunt Chastity and beg her not to run the story if we say anything stupid,” Vivian said.
“Don’t worry, I’m not the gotcha type of investigative journalist,” Dianne said. “I’m mainly interested in what your plans are for getting the Human Empire off the ground. I understand that you’re waiting for your mentor to show up before making any big decisions, but you must have some idea of where you’d like to start.”
“I think for the next few years it will basically be an exercise in learning,” Samuel said. “We’ve been studying the other empires on the tunnel network, and EarthCent Intelligence has tasked an analyst to help us identify best practices. Some of the administrative departments are about the same across everybody’s empires, some are more species-specific, like the Horten Bureau of Hygiene, or the Verlock Ministry of Volcanoes. The two of us aren’t going to change the galaxy on our own, so the first goal is to hire the right people to head up an exploratory team for each department.”
“And I believe I heard you’re looking for young people, rather than experienced diplomats.”
“It probably sounds funny, but we think that’s the best way to avoid accidentally falling into the same old ruts that humans have been carving out since the Bronze Age,” Samuel said. “And then there’s the whole longevity thing.”
The reporter motioned for him to elaborate.
“One of the things that we’ve learned working with aliens is that they place a high value on building relationships with individuals, both in diplomacy and intelligence,” Vivian answered for her husband. “With the exception of the Vergallians, who are always rotating queens through their ambassadorial postings, the aliens consider a few hundred years on the job to be the minimum for a serious career diplomat.”
“So by hiring young diplomats and administr
ators, you hope they’ll stay in place long enough for the aliens to take them seriously,” Dianne said.
“That, and we’re so young ourselves that it might be hard for professionals with more extensive experience to work under us,” Samuel admitted. “And we really expect that the next few years will be spent re-educating ourselves to see things from the perspective of an empire. It will almost be like going back to school again.”
“I could offer a course in empire building through the Open University,” Flower announced via an overhead speaker. “I have extensive experience working in an imperial structure myself, and it will be easy to bring in guest faculty. I’ve read up on how Earth trained people for careers in public service and there were several schools of government associated with famous universities.”
“That’s not a terrible idea,” Vivian said, either not noticing the expression on her husband’s face or choosing to ignore it. “Leveraging the Open University’s infrastructure makes more sense than our setting up a parallel effort with the classrooms, administration, and all of that.”
“We aren’t talking about making hundreds of hires right off, or even dozens,” Samuel protested. “If we could just find a few good people—”
“And here we are,” a voice announced from the door.
“How did you get in?” Vivian demanded. She jumped up from her chair to confront the woman who walked right into Samuel’s office. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”
“Sit-ins don’t work that way,” the woman said, slipping around Vivian and dropping into the just-vacated chair. Then she grabbed the still-warm mug of coffee from Samuel’s desk and downed the remains in one gulp. “That’s an excellent brew. And to answer your question, we walked right in when the doors opened.”
“Flower?” Samuel inquired.
“I told you I could provide twenty-four-hour security but you turned me down,” the Dollnick AI responded. “The Wanderers began entering Human Empire headquarters just forty seconds ago when the doors opened to allow in the delivery man with the lamps Vivian ordered from the Frunge distributor.”
“Why didn’t you close the doors after the delivery man came through?”
“Because the first Wanderer lay down in the opening and I didn’t think that chopping him in half would be an auspicious start for the Human Empire.”
“What do you want?” Samuel demanded, turning to the woman.
“I’m just here to hold the seat for Ronald, he’s a bit old to rush around,” she said. “And here he is now.”
The senior storyteller from the group of human Wanderers shuffled into the office and exchanged positions with his assistant while that worthy prevented Samuel’s wife from recapturing her seat. Ronald crossed his legs and began stroking his white beard, obviously in no hurry to speak. Vivian was visibly fighting to restrain herself from inflicting bodily harm on one or the other of the unwanted guests, but then a crash from the reception area sent her running out of the office.
“What do you want this time?” Samuel asked wearily.
“When a week went by without you processing our refugee application, I wrote it off to the newness of your administration and the demands of young love,” the old man said. “But it’s been almost three weeks now, and we don’t even know what sort of UBI you’ll be providing.”
“I don’t have a clue what that is.”
“UBI. Universal Basic Income. How else will you support the non-working citizens in your empire?”
“I’ve already told you a hundred times that we don’t have any citizens in our empire yet, other than my wife and myself. We’re just in the planning phase.”
“And I refuse to accept that,” Ronald said. “Just look at me, will you? What species do you think I am?”
Samuel took a moment to reply, looking for a trick. “Human.”
“And what’s the name of your empire?” the old storyteller demanded triumphantly.
“You’re missing the point. I’m not saying you won’t be welcome to join someday, I’m just saying we’re not in a position to do anything for you right now. Flower is taking care of all of your needs and I just don’t understand what you hope to get from me.”
“More than Flower is giving us,” Ronald replied bluntly. “Sure, we get free food, a place to sleep, and there are plenty of people wandering around in outlandish costumes to make fun of, but man does not live by bread, blanket, and free entertainment alone. We need cash.”
“I’m not in a position to give you any cash. Why don’t you get jobs?”
“I offer them work every day, but they won’t even take well-paid positions restoring their own ship,” Flower interjected.
“You stay out of this,” the Wanderer said irritably, glancing up at the ceiling. “There’s nothing worse than a bossy Dollnick AI that won’t let us sleep in the morning.”
“We all have to do the calisthenics,” Dianne put in. “They’re mandatory for everyone on board, including the aliens.”
“Well we don’t do them, but she plays loud music in all of our cabins every morning in an attempt to force us out into the corridors to stretch. It’s inhuman, and I want to file a complaint.”
“With who?” Samuel asked.
“With you,” Ronald declared in exasperation. “You’re our official government, aren’t you?”
“I have no power to accept or process your complaint, and I do not acknowledge being your official government. My job function as, uh, First Administrator, is to get the ball rolling for the sovereign human communities which were tendered empire status by the Stryx under the rules of the tunnel network treaty. You are not a part of a sovereign human community, nor have I seen any evidence beyond your own claims that you represent the humans from the Miklat. Please leave my office and stop wasting my time.”
“Not very diplomatic of you.” The old man sniffed and produced a roll of parchment. He handed it to his assistant, who spread it out on the desk.
“What is this?” Samuel asked.
“A list of demands. We refuse to leave the Human Empire headquarters until they’re met.”
“They knocked over one of the new lamps,” Vivian announced angrily as she stormed back into the office. “I’m going to contact Captain Pyun and ask him to send security to clean them all out of here.”
“What an interesting idea,” Ronald said, stroking his beard. He turned to Dianne. “I see from that I.D. hanging around your neck that you work for the Galactic Free Press. How much would you pay for an exclusive interview?”
“With you?” the reporter asked.
“Of course with me. I’m eighty-three years old, the legitimate leader of a sovereign human community whether or not we ever applied to EarthCent’s little club, and I’m about to be forcefully evicted from a peaceful sit-in protesting the inaction of the Human Empire on the behalf of refugees. How could you ignore a story like that?”
“Her aunt owns the paper,” Dianne said, pointing at Vivian.
Ronald smiled, then began to laugh, and it took him a full minute to regain his composure. “I’m glad to hear that. I was beginning to think that you were a couple of lost kids playing empire, but now I see that you’re as well connected as they come. How about we start over?”
“The lobby is full of Wanderers,” Vivian reported. “There must be over a hundred of them in there. It’s a good thing that you agreed to let Flower operate all of the individual office doors on voice identification or we’d never get them out.”
Samuel pulled the scroll closer and began to puzzle over the script. “It’s English, right? What are all of the little curlicues and connecting lines? I can barely make out the words.”
“Calligraphy is a valued art among the Wanderers,” Ronald said. “My own daughter invests at least three hours a month in practice.”
“Three hours a month!” Vivian practically exploded. “Samuel and I spent that long every day practicing our ballroom dancing for nearly ten years.”
“To each hi
s own,” the old storyteller said. “Perhaps if you had spent more time reading and less time dancing you wouldn’t be having so much trouble with a perfectly good scroll.”
“Number one,” Samuel said, having finally deciphered the odd hand. “I cannot give you control of this ship because I’m a guest here myself. Number two. I cannot stop Flower from playing loud music in your cabins every morning unless you agree to go out in the corridors and do your stretching exercises like everybody else. Number three. I cannot agree to represent your group to Flower because you have no standing as members of the Human Empire. Number Four—”
“Now that’s where we disagree,” the old man interrupted. “You keep saying that we aren’t part of the Human Empire and I keep saying that we are. Is there a test we need to take? Do you need blood samples, family trees? What will it cost you to just listen to our problems and offer your help? I’m beginning to think that you just aren’t cut out for a career in government.”
“You aren’t our constituency,” Vivian said coldly.
“We aren’t leaving either,” Ronald said. “How’s the take-out on the ship? Will they charge it to the room?”
“I didn’t want to do this, but desperate times lead to desperate measures,” Flower said. She triggered the office door to open again so they could hear her making a public address announcement in the lobby. “Attention all Wanderers. Flower Entertainment has opened a second LARPing studio on the Con deck. The first five hundred players will receive a starting bonus of—”
The rest of the announcement was drowned out by the Wanderers shouting at each other and trying to squeeze out the doors of the Human Empire headquarters at the same time. Ronald’s middle-aged assistant shot him a pleading look, and he gave a sigh and waved his hand for her to go.
“This isn’t over,” Ronald said, rising slowly from his seat. “Dirty trick that, breaking up a sit-in with a new entertainment attraction. Still, I can probably work it into a story one day. Just so you aren’t surprised when you hear it, I’ll be the hero and you’ll be the villains.”
