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So it is done: ...the saddest day...
🕑 Added 2023-08-27 14:09:47 +0000 UTCThe minutes dragged on and on, meaningless compliments turning into a molasses of futile words. Talks about new projects, dead relatives, and weather forecasts passed Jonathan's mind, disappearing between the third and fourth drink. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, his metabolism, restored and strengthened by the ritual, didn't even allow him to feel the pleasant warmth of the alcohol, forcing him into his own thoughts.
There's really no reason to not draw a line here, Jonathan. Every idealist who follows any philosophy has to draw a line somewhere, to mark the final boundary of his ideals. It is unlikely that even the greatest philosophers of the past, when they came up with the next theory explaining the whole underlying nature of the world, would plunge into it so abruptly. They would not forget all their previous learning, attitudes and morals they had learned over the years. That's normal, Jonathan, isn't it?
Of course, it's normal. It's perfectly normal, it's just…
Just what, Jonathan? Just what?
Jonathan realized with a rational part of his mind that there was nothing unusual about the current situation. Moreover, his desire to stop now, not to cross some invisible line beyond which there was no more morality but his own, was in general a highly moral action, a positive one, something a good man would do… Sacrifice one to save ten.
Wouldn’t it be immoral instead to do it the other way around, killing ten to save one?
And yet it was as if something was clinging to his mind, as if something was interfering with his consciousness, something undeniably unpleasant. Jonathan could not understand what it was that was preventing him from taking that next step, or even just standing still.
Wasn't it good to stop before, in the pursuit of his own ideology, he would have violated something else. It was so easy to give out that order, so short, already prepared, and only waiting for the right hour.
Jonathan knows all this, and yet he could not put his mind at rest.
Why, Jonathan? Why?
Was there anything wrong with stopping now? Certainly, there was. Left unsupervised, Ghira, especially being in Ozpin's orbit of influence, would pull away from Glenn in the near future. The consequences of such a move would have economic, military, political results, a multitude of them, and for both sides, each of them very negative in nature.
It might not be fatal, but it would be extremely unpleasant.
And Jonathan needed nothing more to prevent this problem than to give Ghira Belladonna a… ‘firm warning’ on the subject. In fact, he didn't even need to perform any actions leading to any harm, except for moral or emotional ones.
But Jonathan didn't want to do that.
Which, also, in and of itself, was nothing incredible, Jonathan never wanted to have that kind of dialogue at all, let alone subject his 'friend' to it.
But something kept scratching Jonathan's mind.
Something inside him was stirring with doubt and indecision, something extremely unpleasant for his mind, and Jonathan couldn't get a hold of it.
So, he apologized to the horde of guests crowding around him, who had come, at least formally, to meet Kali Belladonna, not him, but were bothering him anyway. He left the gathering to go to the bathroom, citing the alcohol he had drunk earlier to freshen up, a reason as good as any.
However, having made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him, he made his way to the sink, leaning his cane against the wall before leaning himself on the sink with his hands. His body bending slightly, as if it was pulled to the ground by the weight of his reflection. Before, almost forcibly, pulling his face away and raising his gaze, facing his doppelgänger in the mirror in a mute struggle.
Is something wrong, Jonathan?
The reflection in the mirror mockingly repeated all of Jonathan's actions, the same pose, same expression, but a completely different look. The reflection did not suffer the little question or underlying feeling of wrongness besieging Jonathan's own mind. As if his reflection already knew the answer to the question, when not only was the answer not available to Jonathan himself, as if he hadn't even formulated the question yet.
I don't understand.
What exactly don't you understand, Jonathan?
The reflection moved away from the mirror, forcing Jonathan to do the same, standing up straight and looking into Jonathan's eyes intently.
If you don't know something, Jonathan, think it through. Weigh all the facts, find all the connections between them, carefully construct an imaginary model, weigh the arguments, rearrange the theory, and there, in the end, you'll get the answer. Isn't that how it works, Jonathan? Isn't that how it has always worked for you?
Jonathan glanced at his reflection, but that reflection only waved its hands and shrugged, seemingly not considering Jonathan's problems to be anything significant at all.
Or do you want an answer, served on a silver platter with a golden spoon? Why would I give you that, Jonathan? Has anyone ever brought you such a simple answer, an answer you didn't move toward with long agonizing musings, sleepless nights, constant reflection? Was there ever a moment when, through a coincidence, you got an answer, just like that? Out of nowhere?
However, the seemingly almost supportive tone of Jonathan's reflection suddenly changed to an almost mocking tone.
Or, wait, wasn't that exactly what was happening? You were sinking into a long reflection until, poof! There's your answer, on a platter, now all you have to do is apply the one answer you've found, to all the questions in the world, and all the questions will fall away, unnecessarily. How nice it is to have one answer for everything, Jonathan, isn't it?
Jonathan gritted his teeth, looking at his smirking reflection in the mirror.
I don't have one answer for everything. Every time I've reshaped myself anew, every time, hundreds of thoughts, every time I've reassembled my entire worldview over and over again…
And what?
The disarmingly simple question of the reflection made, interrupted Jonathan’s burgeoning tirade, which the Jonathan in the mirror did not fail to take advantage of.
So what, Jonathan, so what? Let's say you've done a lot of mental work, and… So what? What if all that work was useless? If all your work was just a meaningless pouring from an empty cup to another empty cup, what then? In that case, your work had no meaning!
Jonathan clenched his fists so tightly that he could feel his cane cracking under the grip of his fingers.
It wasn't meaningless!
Wasn't it?
Jonathan from the mirror asked, as if surprised by Jonathan's exclamation, or maybe not even by the answer itself, but by how quickly, almost automatically, Jonathan had said it.
Then tell me, what was its point?
Jonathan clenched his jaw until he could feel the fibers of his chewing muscles grinding against each other.
If this work wasn't meaningless, if it was important, if it had a beginning and an end, then… Then why are you even arguing with me?
Slowly, as if to bring his argument to Jonathan's mind to an end, his reflection made its way over the mirror before settling down in front of the sink. He was sitting down, folding his arms in front of him, holding his chin, as if to prepare for further conversation.
Come on, Jonathan? I'm waiting.
Jonathan, looking into the eyes of his double, gritted his teeth so loudly that for a second it seemed as if he had involuntarily broken several teeth.
I…
Jonathan prepared himself for the most caustic and venomous answer he could think of, but the words wouldn't come to him.
I…
He's… He's what?
I…
He had become the ruler of Glenn, the absolute ruler. King of Glenn, a powerful mage and influential ruler, what had got him to reach this high point? His thinking? No, simple coincidence and the serendipity of his actions, It was Aisa and the situation that had elevated him to this Olympus. His magic played a part, but without the Grimm Tide and Aisa, he wouldn’t have gotten this far.
I…
Did he raise Cinder because of his thinking? No, Jonathan didn't devote any time in his strict moral model to Cinder's upbringing, nor did he elaborate on the matter within his paradigmatic setting. He simply lived, taught Cinder and turned a blind eye to the emerging problems in her perception, until it was too late. Or maybe he simply didn't want to notice it at first, how that thought fit into his…
Into your so precise, ordered, static picture of the world…
Jonathan was always trying to do his best to put things in order. To assign roles, to explain phenomena, to measure a set of rules against a ruler, and finally to create some perfect model of everything in the world. Magic, morality, government, relationships, Jonathan always acted to create some perfect model that could explain everything.
Time after time, he would abandon sleep and leisure to revisit a manual he had already assembled and checked for the umpteenth time. To check it against the list of rules in front of his eyes, and if the rule book he had assembled did not answer the question he had asked, Jonathan would recreate it again.
He discarded his previous works and started a new description of his own morality, again trying on new facts and deriving new theories based on new facts and logic.
I…
From a scientific point of view, Jonathan was an outstanding example of a scientist, albeit in the field of philosophy, the best that could exist. Every new fact was the reason for a new mental experiment, and any contradictory facts were tested again and again. Old, outdated models were discarded, leaving no more than a dry set of facts, on the basis of which Jonathan began to create new theories, this time more complete and well-founded, much more accurate and verified, however…
However, did the scientific approach apply to all facets of life?
Jonathan exhaled slowly, pulling away from the sink before glancing at the mirror, at himself, who was looking back at him from the mirror with a sneer.
Well, let's go all the way round again, it wouldn't be the first time, would it, Jonathan? The decision had been made a long time ago, so long ago that you hadn’t really thought about it in the past, had you? All those long reflections, lofty theories, they weren't tools for reflection, they were just tools for justification, weren't they?
Jonathan's reflection sighed, shrugging his shoulders, seemingly completely disinterested in his own speech.
Every time, didn't you do it this way, Jonathan? Each time, having arrived at this point, you already possessed the answer to your question, didn't you? Whether to betray Mantle, whether to become King of Glenn, whether to rescue Cinder Fall from her foster home, each time you made the decision before you thought of the actions in its fullness. And yet each time, having arrived at that point, even before it was executed, you subjected yourself to a new sort of torture, ‘rationalization’.
As the reflection spoke, each stage of Jonathan’s life flashed before his eyes.
Rather than trying to come up with a suitable plan of action, you instead drew a line, to explain to yourself, and to the whole world, why your chosen plan of action is the best, the most correct. That it actually completely fits into your absolutely logical, ordered picture of the world.? Even if you have to rewrite that picture from scratch in order to fit your new action into your worldview under new, altered conditions. Where you so desperately need a justification for your behavior. A complete picture of the world that describes everything at once.
Jonathan couldn't answer, couldn’t deny the reflection’s assertions, instead clenching his jaws so tightly that it would probably take a jack to unclench them at this point.
Does that work, Jonathan?
Jonathan's gaze, against his will, trying with all his might to hold his eyes back, travelled upwards, to the mirror, to the reflection looking back at him with his own eyes.
It's certainly working. That's the problem, isn't it, Jonathan? The fact that it works.
The Doppelgänger shrugged his shoulders.
Let's just do it again, Jonathan. Let's once again go back to the beginning and open up your whole paradigm, let's go through its nooks and crannies and solve every problem that arises. Introduce new postulates and laws, rules and entities, and eventually arrive at a new iteration of the paradigm, even better, and even more convoluted than before. It’s a process that can be repeated endlessly, can't it? To go through such hard, unadulterated, monumental labor of creating a newer and newer moral paradigm from the scraps of the old one each time, and… For the sake of eventually scrapping it too, when we encounter a new fact that doesn't fit it, no? Commendable, Jonathan – an eminently commendable position from a scientific point of view.
The entity in the mirror smiled mockingly.
But life is not a scientific endeavor, and the scientific method is not suitable for life. At least not if you still want to call it a life, the existence you will continue to have.
Jonathan, after enduring a few more moments of silent condemnation from his own reflection, turned away before he almost forgot his cane and headed out of the toilet, after an inordinate amount of time.
Isn't that right, Jonathan? Isn't it? Trying to justify my whole life to myself, ‘no, no, no, come on, I don't want to do that, it's just what the rational grain dictates to me’. Inside, I'm a soulless robot living by the tenets of absolute rules, don't you dare think I'm just a human being wanting to do what he wants to do! Oh the horror, what will happen if one day it turns out that not everything in life is reduced to postulates, not everything in the world fits into the one only possible truth!
Jonathan made his way to the door, he was about to open it before stopping, for a moment, hearing the words of the mirror flying at his back.
You've become rusted, Jonathan. Entrenched in your worldview. Why try to learn about the world when everything in the world can be fit into the old, trusted framework? Knowing the world is more than counting formulas, but no, not for you, because you're smarter than everyone else. Ruler of Glenn, ruler of worldly destinies, if you are not perfect, who else is? Everything in this world is subject to you, other people's lives and other people's destinies are simply things to be put into the equation. The paradigm has devoured you, leaving a dry skeleton of what you once were… But Ascension? That takes more than just paradigms.
Jonathan took a step out the door, grasping the doorknob, squeezing it so tightly that the hard metal beneath his hand gave a low, pitiful sob.
Where is the good man, Jonathan Goodman?
Jonathan slammed the door shut with force, causing it to slam loudly and a gust of wind to rush out from under it. The noise attracted the attention of a waiter moving down the corridor to stop for a moment, looking at Jonathan to see if he was all right.
If he could, he wanted to destroy the door outright, to shut away the words resounding in his ears. But he suspects that even destroying the whole building wouldn't drown out the words reverberating in his ears.
***
Ghira exchanged idle words and smiles with the Mistral ambassador who approached him before disappearing from the buffet table, pushing a canapé of olive, salmon, and some sort of salty cheese down his throat. He did it even when he was without appetite. How could he?
Under normal circumstances, Ghira would not have failed to savor the taste of the delicacies to the fullest. Although Ghira retained his outstanding figure, thanks to rigorous exercises, of all kinds, he still hadn't managed to fully retain the muscular body without a single drop of extra fat that he had possessed years ago. Tempted by all kinds of delicious food, Ghira had found himself indulging in the tasty morsels that he had never tasted before, deprived of resources as Menagerie was.
But at the moment his appetite was ruined, and even if he had wanted to take his mind off the current situation by eating, he could not taste the food on his tongue.
Ghira’s gaze skittered over the heads of the visitors, trying to find the target of his observation, and after a few moments he had found him. Ghira could see Jonathan appearing from the small side passage leading to the washrooms, causing Ghira to involuntarily look away when he did get a glimpse of his target.
In all other circumstances, Ghira would probably even be glad to see Jonathan. After all, Ghira respected Jonathan, really respected him, as an equal, if not higher, as his own moral compass. A boy desperately persecuted by the world, who had carried two adopted daughters on his back and sacrificed his own health for a settlement that was foreign to him. And, after all that had happened, had decided to take the crazy gamble of declaring himself king, in order to save these strangers once again.
And all this, while being a cripple, who had accepted the challenge of fate with honor and dignity, and had not only advanced, never once demanding regret from the world. Until he himself was able to rebuild his own body, How could Ghira not respect such a man?
But respect might be one thing that Ghira could grant Jonathan, Menagerie was quite another.
It wasn't that Ghira himself, in general, had such doubts about Jonathan's talents and aspirations. Jonathan didn't seek to create a totalitarian machine of repression or to inflict pain on certain parts of society…
It just somehow worked out that way, on its own.
Probably, as a politician and ruler, Jonathan was far superior to Ghira.
But that didn't mean that Ghira was a follower of his political philosophy.
One of Jonathan’s creations, RATS, was virtually already an all-powerful organization. In terms of the resources available to them, nothing and no one was completely immune to the RATS’ reach. How could anyone be completely safe from them if at any moment teleporting agents could appear in any house, and, having disposed of their target, disappear, without a single sign of forced entry or evidence left behind?
A perfect crime at any moment in time, an executioner's punishing blade hovering over every potential target, from one's own state… Or even a foreign one.
But, the scariest thing was not that RATS had the technical ability to do such a thing, every soldier holding a weapon and every Hunter with Aura was no less a danger to the ordinary people…
What was more frightening was their legitimate power. An army would face a court-martial should they impinge on the right of the common man. A Hunter would be branded a criminal, and be hunted by other Hunters for doing the same.
But RATS?
RATS had legal powers which, by the mere fact of their existence, questioned whether Glenn was a free democracy.
Which was fair enough, given that Glenn was a monarchy.
And yet, even as a monarchy, Glenn was always the most democratic and free version of monarchy possible in this world.
Or at least that's how the brand called ‘Glenn’ marketed itself to the common man.
Remembering the sloganeering and political news, Ghira chuckled to himself.
An elected parliament, free media and open debate of different ideas…
Until someone dared to voice their opposition to Glenn's policies and the image of King Goodman. After that, the much ‘democratic’ Glenn would get rid of such an ‘undemocratic’ element, before returning again, to ‘open democracy’.
RATS agents were effectively unaccountable to the ordinary courts, being held answerable solely to the scrutiny of the internal organs of RATS, hidden from the eyes of outside observers. The job description of RATS was vague to the point of impossibility to discern – ‘to maintain the constitutional order and internal stability of the State of Glenn’. With the permissible scope of actions was a dry statement of ‘a RATS agent has priority in selecting means to counteract the violation of the constitutional order of Glenn and to maintain it in accordance with the mission performed’.
In effect, this meant that RATS agents ‘in view of the importance of the mission’ could do whatever they wanted, to complete any objective by any means necessary, without regard for the loss of life, limb, or health. Much less the secrets or emotions of any other Glenn resident, who would garner scrutiny from other RATS whatever they do to the common man.
Did it work? Yes, very well, in fact. It certainly worked.
RATS agents stayed out of the news, their ‘misdemeanors’ didn't reach reporters, and the people of Glenn lived their lives without even thinking about what was going on under their very noses.
And they are very effective.
Certainly the RATS were effective, how could they not? Unconstrained by anything, be it laws or funds, the RATS got rid of the remnants of Robyn's followers in record time, and with record efficiency. After three years, it was easier to find a live dragon on the street than it was to find anyone supporting Robyn ahead of Jonathan.
Even if some people could remember Mantle's revolution with fondness, they always added afterward that they were quite happy with the current situation.
Sometimes with a quick glance around in fear, but more often with a sincere, indifferent shrug of the shoulders. At all times, all peoples lived their lives, striving for simple and understandable things, food on the table and smiles in the family…
So what if a couple of thousand people had disappeared in recent years under a variety of circumstances? Mantle and Atlas were full of unspoken grievances, not to say either of them hadn’t crossed the line in the past, so definitely each of them got what they deserved.
If Ghira relented, even if he didn't relent, but simply didn't act, let Jonathan rule Menagerie if by proxy… What then?
A couple of thousand more, a couple of thousand less… What does it matter? It's just a statistic.
Those people who believe in him, how will he be able to look their families in the eye?
Would there be any families left that he can look into the eyes of?
His most loyal followers, some, are powerful tycoons with real patriotism at heart, albeit only because patriotism is nicely monetized. The others are penniless, with nothing in their lives, except faith in Ghira Belladonna, an indecisive politician who once made a plea to the world for equality.
Is it possible to betray one's own people, and say that you’re doing it out of their best interest?
Those who supported him, it is they who will suffer.
Loyalists, the most loyal, those who supported him through all his failures and victories, continuing to believe in his naive promises of peace and equality.
That Faunus would one day stop hiding behind the patronage of people who cared, and would be able to openly communicate with the world. About a new, if naive, but maybe at least a little brighter world in which there would be a little more equality and a little more kindness to each other.
But everything had a price, and so did Ghira’s naive dream.
After all, Ghira wasn't foolish enough not to see Jonathan's actions, and its consequences, but by and large, Ghira didn't judge Jonathan. Jonathan also strove to support his own citizens, those who had chosen to put their trust in him. Protecting his people, promoting their well-being, and doing nothing out of his own greed or cruelty.
Ghira respected Jonathan, whatever the conflict between them.
So please, Jonathan… Give me the opportunity to respect you to the very end.
Ghira’s gaze came across Jonathan again, but this time Jonathan also raised his gaze, looking into Ghira’s eyes.
For a brief moment that stretched, a long silent dialogue between two rulers who simply wanted the best for those who had trusted them began. Before being interrupted by the sound of the doors opening and a waiter entering, approaching Ghira.
Ghira naturally took his gaze away from Jonathan and then, after being informed by the waiter that the banquet was ready, then raised his own voice. “Attention please, the banquet hall has been prepared, and the formal dinner will begin in ten minutes.”
Kali appeared from behind the waiter inaudibly, causing Ghira to grin wryly, his wife's old training could not be etched out of her by any years of housekeeping. Kali glanced at him with a questioning look.
"Nothing," Ghira shook his head, trying not to poison his wife's already less than stellar birthday with his sad thoughts. "Come on, dear – we've got a whole day ahead of us..."
‘And afterward…’ Ghira added to himself, finding Jonathan's figure moving forward, and exhaled inaudibly.
‘Whatever happens, happens…’
