The Coming Tide
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Antium, Capital of the Diocletian Republic
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Antium, Capital of the Diocletian Republic
"As you make your bed, you must lie in it" - Daniel J. Boorstin
City Hall, Antium
"There is something basic about all people - they want to be led. They want their disputes settled, they want their treaties negotiated, their jobs dispensed, their mutinies punished and they want their loyalties reward for those that lead them to what they want. They get power, it's a covenant - unspoken and elemental. And when it's broken, it needs to be fixed." The Mayor guided his young protege along the roofs of Antium City Hall, an enormous Art Deco styled building built many years ago but has defiantly withstood the test of time through some of the worst riots and civil disorders in the Republic's history. Despite being shrouded by the explosion of skyscrapers throughout the city, City Hall has remained true to itself. It was the seat of power, closer to the people than those of the Senate on Palatine Hill.
"You brought me here to lecture me on the failures of democracy?" asked the protege, Marc Fisker. He was a young, ambitious individual with average height but had the charisma that other politicians seem to utterly lack. The best part was that he was naive - he didn't truly know the nature of politics. He was an ideologue activist in college, believing the system to be "the best of all worlds." Yet that is what collegiate activism taught him.
"I want you." said the Mayor quietly, clearing his throat, "I want you to run for Councilor." There was a long pause. Fisker was astonished to say the least. He was still considered "fresh water" with his first elected position as alderman of one of Antium's wards. The Mayor simply nodded. "Sometimes, it's best to know your opponent you're coming."
"But - but I just got elected alderman!" stammered Fisker. "You think I have the resources to even sustain a campaign of that so -"
"You forget who your allies are." replied the Mayor sharply. "Look at the hand that feeds you. Wouldn't you agree that is a sufficient leveraging tool?"
Fisker nodded. "Very well. I will assemble a conference and announce my campaign." With that he shook the Mayor's hand and left the rooftop of the City Hall, leaving the Mayor to himself.
Moments later another individual approached the Mayor, holding a dossier in his hand. He was significantly younger than the Mayor, but gave off that aura of Machiavellian action and discourse. "Boss. Excellent choice on the candidate." said the man as he handed him the dossier. "I have gathered sufficient information to put together Fisker's biography at your own pleasure. It is best we know who this man really is."
The Mayor took the files and smiled weakly. "It is not the man we care about. It's the idea at hand. If anything we need to learn from this current Administration on top of Palatine Hills is that they are ineffectual. We didn't put them there for them to debate the merits of what they're passing. They forget who they belong to. It's time we send a message. Punishment is not only an act of retribution but a signal to those planning on making the same transgression. And most importantly it is a signal that nobody is exempt from the consequences. Agree?"
He nodded. "I agree. There is a formal aspect to punishment - a ritual nature. It has shape and body, yet its actions have consequences."
"They will learn soon enough."