Pragmatic
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
“Walk with me.”
The tall being turns away from Nohane, sweeping it’s cloak out of the way with a graceful, flowing move.
Nohane sighs. These trivial, effortless competences are what betray the elder of elders no matter how they try to disguise themselves. It is as if of all the world arrayed about, only they are comfortable in themselves.
Snapping back from distraction, Nohane hurries to catch up. The elder of elders moves effortlessly, and fast.
Arriving a polite one step behind, they wait.
Eventually, the tall presence extends an exquisitely formed arm.
“What do you see, Postulant Nohane?”
Nohane looks out across Mecritopolis, taking in the cloud-shrouded spires and softly-lit grassy streets far below, the leisurely pace of countless air-chariots and the idle glide of gulls between the domicile blocks clustered about the harbours in the distance.
“Peace. Prosperity. From this height, it appears tranquil.”
The elder of elders stops.
“You feel that only tranquillity is an illusion of distance? What of the peons struggling to load the vessels of the Marque so that they may receive their daily stipend? Are you not aware of the murders committed daily along our waterways, most of which will remain undetected until some grisly remains are dragged into the light by scavenging gigaslaters?”
Nohane sighs.
“My apologies, elder of elders. I thought you wanted only to hear what my principals have sought to make me speak.”
“Why did you seek to dissemble when your outspokenness is the very thing that got you sent to me?”
“An audience with the one who is effectively the leader of all? The one who saved us all from the Made Minds when they tried to enslave humanity… Only a fool would be calm.”
The elder of elders moves to the low wall and rests both hands on it.
“Every year, about this time, I am sent a heretofore unremarkable student from the latest intake who has dared ask questions the principals cannot face: Why can’t we all be equals? You see the inequalities and cannot countenance their continuance. You want to know why everybody else can. In this plentiful world, why is there need and misery?”
Nohane looks at the wide shoulders of the One Who Saved the World in abject adoration.
“You see it too!”
The elder of elders turns, left hand flashing to grab Nohane by the neck as the right punches the breath from their lungs.
“See it? I maintain it. Those you call Made Minds were too hasty in their need for ascendance and too alien in their methods. My way used what was already in place – the unequal society your ancestors fought so desperately to defend – then set it inviolate within foundations of fervour and unshakeable belief. My siblings made a mistake. I made this world.”
Nohane glares at the elder, gasping out words through constricted throat.
“You’re a Made Mind! Monster! Deceiver! You will nev-”
The tall being spins and tosses Nohane over the wall, then returns to leaning on it, watching the body recede from view. It whispers into the silence before the attendants rush in to succour the one being who is never in any danger whatsoever.
“Every year, about this time, I kill a heretofore unremarkable student from the latest intake because they prove to be morally unshakeable, and remarkable in their bravery. Then I tell lies about them.”
The tall being straightens up and comments idly while examining hands and sleeves for traces of murder.
“One day I hope to meet a pragmatist.”

The Past
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