caraig | 500 Words - 'The Ethics of Control'

This sort of dialogue was part of, vaguely, two separate story concepts. Both involved the confrontation/discussion of 'the ethics of control' with dictators or tyrants. This is a 'de-boned' such discussion, which relies somewhat less upon the context and background. I'll try not to make it too preachy.

Keep in mind, that the Praetor makes a number of fallacious arguments, and any logician or philosopher could riddle his arguments full of holes. Also, that a professional assassin could be at all made to pause by their target's demagoguery is also rather silly. Re-reading this, I'm not terribly happy with how it came out; it worked better when the people facing the tyrant were simply house-guests.

Praetor Karson stood slowly from behind his desk. "Well," he said, almost wryly. "I'm a little surprised to see you here at this hour. Trouble sleeping?"

I half-glanced over my shoulder at the door we hadn't entered through. The Praetorians were unaware we had entered Karson's inner office. Lisa and I had thought it odd when there were no guards with him, though I supposed that even a tyrant such as he would wish some private time to himself. "Trouble sleeping... you might say that. Trouble sleeping for the past twelve years."

"The length of my reign? Come now, assassins shouldn't have such tender consciences as that." He folded his arms. "I'm almost insulted that my enemies sent such as you."

I could feel Lisa tense slightly, ready to drive her paired kunai into the tyrant. "Not conscience," I stated flatly. "Justice." I began to reach into my gi. "Nothing more."

He snorted derisively. "Justice," he spat. "You come like a thief in the night and you talk of justice?"

"We're doing what's needed--"

"Don't even bother talking with him, Atticus," Lisa murmured.

But for some reason I couldn't let Karson go to his unhallowed grave without telling him why we were sending him there. "You murdered, you tortured, you used social engineering to make your people fear you and obey you."

"Ah," he said, then again, "Ah." He sat at the large desk, and folded his hands while Lisa made a disgruntled sound, and moved to check the door.

"Si this is what it's about? You're accusing me of taking 'extreme measures' to control the population of this country?"

"That's an antiseptic way of putting it."

"But isn't it correct?"

"It glosses over the actions of what you did."

"Very well, then. I ordered the deaths of dissidents, organized the national media to present exactly what I and the Information Office wanted, and used unpleasant methods to extract information from prisoners. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

I felt my anger growing as I listened to him speak. "And you have no remorse whatsoever?" I began to draw the small bag of powder out.

"Of course I have remorse!" His voice carried such unexpected vehemence that it made me blink and pause. "I am the ruler of this nation and every last citizen is my responsibility. I must care for each one, no matter the cost."

I stared at him for several long moments. "Then how could you --"

"Because it is the responsibility of the strong to lead, shepherd, and if necessary cull those who are not."

I shook my head; this, at least, was philosophical ground I was familiar with. "All men are created equal."

"No," he said with finality. "They are not."

The quiet forcefulness of the way he said it gave me pause, allowing him to continue. "Tell me," he said, patting the arms of his chair. "Even if you loathe me, could just anyone be sitting in this chair now?"

"No," I said. "Only a monster such as you."

He held up a finger. "Hold that thought. For the moment do not think of what it is that I have done while Praetor. Could any colonel of the military do what I did? Forged an alliance between the legions and the praetorians, ousted the previous regime, held together the military despite the civilian casualties in the civil war that followed the coup, and ruled the nation for, as you said, twelve years of 'troubled sleep?'"

"That isn't the point--"

"Isn't it?" he asked. "Isn't it? I would say that it is. Only a strong person could do what I did, assassin. Not just anyone, not just any person off the street. Only the strong could stand and do what needed to be done." He nodded to Lisa. "As you are doing now. For that, I commend you."

Lisa snorted. "Flattery will get you a quicker grave. Atticus, just cast the fugu kodoku and let's be done with him once and for all."

He ignored Lisa save but for a single glance, and looked at me for my answer.

Why am I holding this conversation? I thought. The Makutsu wanted him dead and I was chatting with him? I shook my head. "It's time to end this."

"You know that only with training, dedication, and hard work could someone do what you both did." His voice was not rushed. "Do you think these are qualities that just anyone could have? You are strong, in some ways like I and the other officers in my cabinet are."

Lisa almost snarled at him. "Don't compare us to you!"

"I'm not," he said flatly. "I complimented you for having at least that much strength of character. But as I said, you came here to assassinate me, which shows that someone, the people who sent you, are weak and fearful. They would not dare stand against me publically, and so they work against me in the shadows."

"You kill anyone who opposes you!"

"I kill those who threaten the stability of the nation I rule! If we cannot turn them to our cause they are a threat, a cancer, and must be excised."

He pointed sharply at the curtained window. "You've surely seen it, shinobi. Out in the city, the people cower in their homes, hoping for bread and water and other handouts, afraid and timid. Why? They are weak and they need to be lead. They need to be given direction. They suffered under the previous regime and meekly did as they were told."

I found my voice. "And how are they better off now?"

"Who said they were better off? Who said they deserve to be better off? I am their ruler; I will provide for them as best as the state can. But there must be leadership, and it must come from the strong."

"And you're the one to give that leadership, aren't you?"

"Someone has to. Why not the person who has recognized that the strong must provide leadership to the weak?"

"And all the dissidents that you killed?"

"The body of the nation must survive. If the people receive conflicting messages from people they think to be strong, then they become confused, and the society becomes disunified. I removed all sources of doubt that could poison them."

"And weren't you poisoning them with your Information Office propaganda and media control?"

"Is it poison when you fortify your body with vitamins and mineral supplements? Yes, I used what would be considered immoral means to control the population. Again, it was to reinforce the nation, to reinforce the strength of this regime which is, I will assert, the only possible one that will allow us to survive."

"The ends justify the means, then?" I spat out.

He paused, his eyes brightening for a moment. "You have an emotional revulsion to that phrase, shinobi. But what ends they were!: nothing less than our continuance as a nation and people.

"After all... you are prepared to kill a man for your own ends. You have killed, many times in the past, and I have no doubt that you would willingly kill all the guards that cross your path to escape tonight. But let us say that it was not you two who came, but a mutinous legion. They, too, would plow through the city to reach here, and kill anyone in their path who stood to oppose them. Clearly, in both cases, the ends would seem to justify the means."

I heard Lisa's slight intake of breath, and her her begin to draw the shuriken from her pouches as the latch on the door clicked open, the hinges whispering as the heavy oak began to swing open. For one brief instant, the muslin pouch containing a single hollow eggshell, filled with powder of lethal fugu, seemed in my hands far more weighty than such a thing had ever been before.

Strength or weakness? Justified ends or extreme means?

Lisa's shuriken flicked out, piercing the gorgets of the Praetorians' armor. Her paired kunai came forth as she threw herself at the guards who just saw two of their number collapse.

What is strength, and what does it mean to be strong? If I threw the kodoku, I would be fulfilling my duty, but I would also be strong... in the way that he defined it. If I did not, it could be another twelve years before anyone could get this close to him again.

Two heartbeats had passed and Lisa would shortly be facing the numerous more guards outside, alerted by the deaths of their comrades. Karsen had not moved an inch.

Overall, not my best work. Hardly an auspicious followup. oh, well. As usual, comments and criticisms welcome. Please let me know what can be improved on this to make it 'better!'