lieutenantantichrist | [21] Video/Action for Goldenrod

[In a square in the center of Goldenrod City, a small crowd has gathered. A show is about to start.

There's a crude stage that's been freshly hammered together. Near the back, a little Snubbull is tapping in the last few nails. The platform wobbles but holds as a man climbs up it, then takes a place at a podium in the center. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and, in concession to his ambitions, a tie. He looks toward the camera.] Hey, Newt. You got that thing running?

[The camera's view nods up and down.]

All right.

[He holds his arms up for silence. Then, when no one quite pays attention, he barks,] Hey! All of you! Shut up!

[That's much more effective. When the eyes of the curious onlookers are on him, he plants his hands on the sides of the podium and clears his throat.]

All of you. Locals, people from the real world, people from the fuckin' moon. You know me. See, I've been here a long, long time. Two damn years, and I know some of you have been here longer. I was thinking about that, and you know what I realized?

[His voice gets louder and clearer as he finds his rhythm.]

I realized I'm not a fuckin' tourist. None of us are. This is our world as much as it is theirs-- and nobody is doing dick to run it.

Look around. Everybody does whatever they damn well please, and that's real nice right up until the minute some idiot starts planting bombs around. The closest thing to somebody in charge is the police, and they're a goddamn joke who give terrorists a week picking up garbage and then set them loose again. There's nobody calling the shots.

That changes today.

[His boots thud on plywood as he tramps back and forth along the stage, and his speech takes a turn toward harangue.]

When bees and sharks came crashing through people's windows, who smacked them right back out? Me. When some moron went around shooting lasers at the city, who knocked him out of the sky? Me. When a couple armies of fire and water idiots tried to wreck up the place with giant monsters, who went out to stop them? [He jerks his thumb to his chest.] Me.

[His voice is getting louder and louder. The cords stand out on his neck.]

And I'm not some jumped-up fourteen-year-old who thinks he's magic. I've been around the block in the real world. I have decades on the front lines. I haven't just lead people, I've lead them into tenements full of crackheads with shotguns. That has to mean something, even here.

Somebody around here has to get shit in order, and I'm done waiting.

[His tread takes him back to the podium. He grips the sides with his coarse-knuckled hands and leans over it to look straight into the Gear.]

I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.

From now on, I'm the head honcho around here.

[He jabs his finger at the camera.]

Stand with me or get out of my way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hell, who'd leave that out? The ugly stuff's the only interesting part.

[Not as though his own records back home have a lot of ugly things conveniently elided...]

It's not just interesting, it's important. People who forget their past screw up their future.

[If there's one thing to learn from that fiasco the Earth Federation caused, it's that.]

[Something in his expression sobers.] Then again, there's the real ugly shit. People get weird about that.

Admitting it happened is one thing, but all the talk shows, the re-enactments, the books - what good does that do anybody?

Depends on the goal and quality of talk shows and books, doesn't it? A lot of people won't even hear about the bad parts without those, so they're needed.

[All that glorifying propaganda can go, though.]

[There's bitterness in Blake's voice.] Hah. That's what they always say, they're informing the public. All they really want to do is rubberneck and get all the dirty details. Knowing all the grimy shit about exactly how somebody died, what good does that do anybody?

Friends and relatives can't truly grieve and move on without knowing all the details, sometimes. ...But I guess there usually are twenty vultures for each mourner out there.

There's details nobody outside the investigation needs to know. Nobody needs a damn camera crew in their faces when they're trying to get their lives back together.

[He snorts humorlessly to himself.] The shit they call "journalism" today, is that what they're gonna call "history" tomorrow?

[Ash's answering laugh is bitter, bitter, bitter.]

No. What they call history is pretending billions of people died at once, to avoid admitting that they were abandoned and cut off from any potential support. Two sides demonizing each other to the point that children dream of a successful genocide, a glorious victory.

[Blake's heard plenty of things in his time, but that's a new one.]

Holy shit. You must have some fucked up grade schools.

That's the thing: they're not. But when adults around you casually talk about the Vagan or Earther enemies and how they all deserve to die, well... And it's been going on for over sixty years, with no hope for peace until about two hours before I showed up here. That doesn't help.

Christ, even Israel and Pakistan take a break every once in a while.

So you know what can go wrong. You figure that gives you a handle on how to make it go right?

[It's a genuine question.]

...I have a decent idea, but the problem is that you already don't have what I'd consider some of the basics. If you'd waited another six months or so...

[Then again, even those six months wouldn't have been the same as twenty-seven to build up a reputation.]

[21] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "I'm gonna rule this world."

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