theatrical_muse Prompt 249: Talk about politics.
"Doctor, I hope you don't mind me noting... you've been a little irritable lately."
"I can't help it. Politicians make me irritable."
"... This is Gallifrey, Doctor. And you're standing in the middle of the High Council."
"I would think that's rather my point."
--
In politics, there are no "rights" and "wrongs." It is possible to say that there are no "in-betweens" either. There are just the people who agree with you, the people who you want or can convince to agree with you, and the people who want to kill you because they'll never agree with you. Or vice versa. They're all very wide categories, so you usually manage to fit in one.
As you watch, you learn that politics becomes a very elaborate game that makes chess look like child's play, even the ones where pawns have rebellions and bishops go against their grace to put you in front of the enemy's knight. Politics isn't only strategy, predicting your opponent's move, it's lies and manipulations to walk your opponent right off a cliff wile making sure they're looking the other way. If you enter the game without a forked tongue, you should expect a sharp blade waiting out at the brush of your lips by the time you lose.
"Morning" could just as well mean "be careful of what you drink" just as outstretched hands of alliance and good will can turn into handles of daggers that protrude from your back, burrowing comfortably into your spine. Friendly words milked from fangs become the only things you ever hear, weighing your head down with hidden meanings and uncertainty. Who to trust. Who to eliminate.
No one. Preferably everyone. In that order.
It's not all lies. Only the stupid ones lie. The smart ones are the ones who twist the truth and yet still keep it, at the base of it all, facts.
Facts.
Fact: The only reason the term "honest politician" is so amusing is because it is, in fact, incredibly facetious, because there's no such thing. They might not lie to you, but at one time or another, they are manipulating the truth right in front of your face. The better ones might do you the better courtesy of doing it behind your back. You'll be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't attempt to edit what he's had for breakfast in fear of appearing elite, lugubrious, uneducated, lavishly opulent or arrogant.
Un-Fact: They do it for your benefit.
The only benefit that comes from politics is to themselves. Positions of higher power. A better public image. Less people trying to kill them. The latter is rather nice, but optional, if your public image is more in the "feared despot" area.
Nothing doesn't have a politic underlining. Wars that begin with pretences of patriotism and justice, beneath it all, it's not about amnesty or freedom, liberation or even revenge against assassination or terrorist attacks. It's all about looking good, it's about politics, where any lack of attack might signify an ineffectual leader. And money. Of course, it's about money. Economic boosts with the jobs created, the weapons sold, with even more waiting at the end in light of victory. And yet any talk about "they hit us first" is lapped up by the public, who're waiting eagerly at their bowls, waiting for the milk to be poured.
Daleks are probably ironically the most honest ones in this War. They just hate everyone that isn't themselves, hang the consequences and benefits. They might be genocidal xenophobes but at least they don't try to justify it to everyone. They don't wait and position members of their own race to have a reason to attack and it's a shame that 'civilised' cultures are so adamant on doing just that; it, frankly, just wastes a lot of time that could be used to butcher each other.
Lives? What are lives as long as you look good, as long as you're safe and sound in your seat obtained by harsh jerks on puppet strings, miles behind enemy lines and people who're sacrificing everything to keep their home safe? Because lives are a menial cost in the goal for power. Who cares, who remembers them? They're just another soldier that's fought and lost, while you'll be remembered for how brilliantly you managed to win a battle you weren't even present in. Or maybe the sacrifice of lives come in the complete ruin of someone to get their position. A payable price, by any means. Of course. There might perhaps be a niggle at your conscience, but you're a politician, you must have drowned that out ages ago.
Lives are discardable. Expendable. Cheap compared to money and as always, completely forgettable. When they're dead they might not be able to speak against you, but they can't support you either, so what's the use of them. Unless you're using their memories and death in the name of "what they would have wanted." There's no respect, regret, remorse, nothing. An easier way of going about it would be just to put the damned corpse on sticks and make him wave to the crowd. Who needs dignity when you're dead.
And then, at the end, you're barely even a person. Barely perceived as a member of your race, as a being with emotions and morals. Nothing holds its meaning, because isn't it fun being passive aggressive. Too much effort just to be aggressive these days. Love and devotion fade away because there's possibly no such thing, and what do you get out of it? Where's the benefit for you? Does it help you? Is it supposed to make you feel better? Is that it, is that all?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, how the just have turned twisted into gnarls. After a lifetime and seven of saving planets and so many lives, now there's just a room with people that might be mirror images staring back, as plans of war are scattered across the room with only the slightest, minimal effect on conscience. Drastic change for someone called the "Doctor", the one who saves lives, the one who helps people. But also, maybe if Narvin would shut up about the irony of that for more than a week it'd be less of a burden or an annoyance.
How is it that this life now seems almost bearable? Maybe it's true, maybe any form of anything that might have been a soul was shrivelled away as soon as politician became a familiar designation. A guilty conscience is still there, but where's the real regret? The real remorse? Hiding under distaste, hatred and loathing?
Is it gone? Then what's left? Nothing? Is this how it's supposed to be? Wasn't this done to save billions of lives? So where are they? Was this all done for nothing?
You'd better get used to those questions, Doctor.
They'll be haunting you for a few lives yet.
--
He paced her office as thought it was his own, repeating a line back and forth, his concentration perpetually focused straight ahead with no deviations.
"What made you think that I'd even be interested in this position anyway?" he asked finally, his tone clipped and short.
The Lady President sighed with both exhaustion and wearied impatience from both her job and her current company. "Doctor, you know as well as I do that the Council won't approve of any attempts to go back and rewrite Earth's history. And if you try change it without the Council's approval, well then. You'll be brought in, tried, found guilty and then you'll probably be vaporised."
"And when has that ever stopped me? The Council can go hang, Romana. You know as well as I do that Earth's history wasn't supposed to end up this way. It's wrong. I'll just be putting it right."
"Doctor, whatever's happened now, it's an established order of events. We cannot change something this drastic. History is constantly rewriting itself-"
"Exactly! History is constantly rewriting itself, so what's the problem with rewriting it ourselves?"
"You know very well the problem!"
He nearly spat the exasperated exhale from his lips. "So what you're proposing is-"
"That you stay with me. On Gallifrey. Accept the offer for a seat in the High Council of Gallifrey, and eventually, with some... negotiations-"
"Negotiations," he interrupted with a sneer. "You politicians are all the same."
She continued as if he hadn't even moved. "-Maybe you'll be able to convince the High Council to see things... your way."
"My way. You do know, of course, that you'll be appointing a renegade Time Lord? They won't like this at all."
"They can disapprove as much as they want." She inserted a terse pause. "Does that mean you're taking my offer?"
"... Yes."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I won't be looking in the mirror again for a while."
The Eighth Doctor
Doctor Who
1,441 words
"I can't help it. Politicians make me irritable."
"... This is Gallifrey, Doctor. And you're standing in the middle of the High Council."
"I would think that's rather my point."
--
In politics, there are no "rights" and "wrongs." It is possible to say that there are no "in-betweens" either. There are just the people who agree with you, the people who you want or can convince to agree with you, and the people who want to kill you because they'll never agree with you. Or vice versa. They're all very wide categories, so you usually manage to fit in one.
As you watch, you learn that politics becomes a very elaborate game that makes chess look like child's play, even the ones where pawns have rebellions and bishops go against their grace to put you in front of the enemy's knight. Politics isn't only strategy, predicting your opponent's move, it's lies and manipulations to walk your opponent right off a cliff wile making sure they're looking the other way. If you enter the game without a forked tongue, you should expect a sharp blade waiting out at the brush of your lips by the time you lose.
"Morning" could just as well mean "be careful of what you drink" just as outstretched hands of alliance and good will can turn into handles of daggers that protrude from your back, burrowing comfortably into your spine. Friendly words milked from fangs become the only things you ever hear, weighing your head down with hidden meanings and uncertainty. Who to trust. Who to eliminate.
No one. Preferably everyone. In that order.
It's not all lies. Only the stupid ones lie. The smart ones are the ones who twist the truth and yet still keep it, at the base of it all, facts.
Facts.
Fact: The only reason the term "honest politician" is so amusing is because it is, in fact, incredibly facetious, because there's no such thing. They might not lie to you, but at one time or another, they are manipulating the truth right in front of your face. The better ones might do you the better courtesy of doing it behind your back. You'll be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't attempt to edit what he's had for breakfast in fear of appearing elite, lugubrious, uneducated, lavishly opulent or arrogant.
Un-Fact: They do it for your benefit.
The only benefit that comes from politics is to themselves. Positions of higher power. A better public image. Less people trying to kill them. The latter is rather nice, but optional, if your public image is more in the "feared despot" area.
Nothing doesn't have a politic underlining. Wars that begin with pretences of patriotism and justice, beneath it all, it's not about amnesty or freedom, liberation or even revenge against assassination or terrorist attacks. It's all about looking good, it's about politics, where any lack of attack might signify an ineffectual leader. And money. Of course, it's about money. Economic boosts with the jobs created, the weapons sold, with even more waiting at the end in light of victory. And yet any talk about "they hit us first" is lapped up by the public, who're waiting eagerly at their bowls, waiting for the milk to be poured.
Daleks are probably ironically the most honest ones in this War. They just hate everyone that isn't themselves, hang the consequences and benefits. They might be genocidal xenophobes but at least they don't try to justify it to everyone. They don't wait and position members of their own race to have a reason to attack and it's a shame that 'civilised' cultures are so adamant on doing just that; it, frankly, just wastes a lot of time that could be used to butcher each other.
Lives? What are lives as long as you look good, as long as you're safe and sound in your seat obtained by harsh jerks on puppet strings, miles behind enemy lines and people who're sacrificing everything to keep their home safe? Because lives are a menial cost in the goal for power. Who cares, who remembers them? They're just another soldier that's fought and lost, while you'll be remembered for how brilliantly you managed to win a battle you weren't even present in. Or maybe the sacrifice of lives come in the complete ruin of someone to get their position. A payable price, by any means. Of course. There might perhaps be a niggle at your conscience, but you're a politician, you must have drowned that out ages ago.
Lives are discardable. Expendable. Cheap compared to money and as always, completely forgettable. When they're dead they might not be able to speak against you, but they can't support you either, so what's the use of them. Unless you're using their memories and death in the name of "what they would have wanted." There's no respect, regret, remorse, nothing. An easier way of going about it would be just to put the damned corpse on sticks and make him wave to the crowd. Who needs dignity when you're dead.
And then, at the end, you're barely even a person. Barely perceived as a member of your race, as a being with emotions and morals. Nothing holds its meaning, because isn't it fun being passive aggressive. Too much effort just to be aggressive these days. Love and devotion fade away because there's possibly no such thing, and what do you get out of it? Where's the benefit for you? Does it help you? Is it supposed to make you feel better? Is that it, is that all?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, how the just have turned twisted into gnarls. After a lifetime and seven of saving planets and so many lives, now there's just a room with people that might be mirror images staring back, as plans of war are scattered across the room with only the slightest, minimal effect on conscience. Drastic change for someone called the "Doctor", the one who saves lives, the one who helps people. But also, maybe if Narvin would shut up about the irony of that for more than a week it'd be less of a burden or an annoyance.
How is it that this life now seems almost bearable? Maybe it's true, maybe any form of anything that might have been a soul was shrivelled away as soon as politician became a familiar designation. A guilty conscience is still there, but where's the real regret? The real remorse? Hiding under distaste, hatred and loathing?
Is it gone? Then what's left? Nothing? Is this how it's supposed to be? Wasn't this done to save billions of lives? So where are they? Was this all done for nothing?
You'd better get used to those questions, Doctor.
They'll be haunting you for a few lives yet.
--
He paced her office as thought it was his own, repeating a line back and forth, his concentration perpetually focused straight ahead with no deviations.
"What made you think that I'd even be interested in this position anyway?" he asked finally, his tone clipped and short.
The Lady President sighed with both exhaustion and wearied impatience from both her job and her current company. "Doctor, you know as well as I do that the Council won't approve of any attempts to go back and rewrite Earth's history. And if you try change it without the Council's approval, well then. You'll be brought in, tried, found guilty and then you'll probably be vaporised."
"And when has that ever stopped me? The Council can go hang, Romana. You know as well as I do that Earth's history wasn't supposed to end up this way. It's wrong. I'll just be putting it right."
"Doctor, whatever's happened now, it's an established order of events. We cannot change something this drastic. History is constantly rewriting itself-"
"Exactly! History is constantly rewriting itself, so what's the problem with rewriting it ourselves?"
"You know very well the problem!"
He nearly spat the exasperated exhale from his lips. "So what you're proposing is-"
"That you stay with me. On Gallifrey. Accept the offer for a seat in the High Council of Gallifrey, and eventually, with some... negotiations-"
"Negotiations," he interrupted with a sneer. "You politicians are all the same."
She continued as if he hadn't even moved. "-Maybe you'll be able to convince the High Council to see things... your way."
"My way. You do know, of course, that you'll be appointing a renegade Time Lord? They won't like this at all."
"They can disapprove as much as they want." She inserted a terse pause. "Does that mean you're taking my offer?"
"... Yes."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I won't be looking in the mirror again for a while."
The Eighth Doctor
Doctor Who
1,441 words