use_everything | Voice Testing Post

Canon

A.

[You may find yourself facing large, heavy gates. Behind the bars, you can easily see the enormous, austere residence spread both tall and wide against a backdrop of a lake, stables and a small, private cemetery. The unbridled horse grazing, unhitched beside a carriage, by a liveried servant is in direct opposition to an obviously futuristic lightflier not far from it.

Even the guard that narrows to nervous attention holds both a sword and a strange, small device.]

And you are?

[The voice comes from behind.

Aral, for his part, neither looks, nor feels the part of the lord. Having taken the long way, treacherous and unmonitored paths and foothills back to the residence, he smells of sap, a chemical tinge of smoke and the exertion it took to get back. His green dress uniform had survived in all but the pressed edges, looking as if he'd intended the slight look of disarray and set jaw.

He lifts a hand, stilling the guard from comment on him, and focuses all of his attention on this newcomer.]

B.

[The Counts and Minsters poured out of the building first. The debates of the evening being traded in words so sharp that they might as well have been blows. Aral followed much more sedately, having taken a bit of time to brief his intelligence officer and leave orders for the evening.

It's by chance he stumbled across a stranger, enough out of place to inspire both caution and curiosity in equal measures.]

You seem lost.

Mask or Menace

C.

[It helped to liken the city to a space station. It had the bustle of a large hub.. the rowdy clash and wild fusion of fashions and cultures that defied any easy identification of a trend or perhaps some anthropological hint as to the people - and species... intelligent and alien, the very thought sent his mind into fits of fantasy and planning at once. It was like water, as far as he could tell. Formless, impossible to grip, but could fill the air around you and sweep one far away should he let it. There were colors and layers fitting the ghem Cetagandan... lack of modesty known to the Betans... the maliable gathering of anything adorned by a Jacksonian mindset...

And yet, nothing that fit anything else.

There was only one way to begin. Diplomatically.]

Might I ask a question?

OTHER

[Pick your poison, or let me know and I'll cater a starter to you.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He raises his eyebrows, expression mild and doubtful.]

What do you suppose it depends on?

Historical circumstances, for the most part.

[ She crosses her arms. ]

We've got a democracy here not because of any inherent characteristics of this country, but because people, in the past, put it in place.

That seems ... simplified.

[It's pronounced in a way to make it a synonym of "naive."]

[ Oh. Her chin snaps up. And her eyes narrow. She looks suddenly rather dangerous. ]

Does it, now. Which you can judge thanks to all your experience with democracies, can you?

[He lifts his cup, as if acknowledging a point.]

As you judge from what seems to be your vast experience outside of one.

Without the infrastructure of communication technology, lack of an entrenched ruling class and an educated or even existing middle class... I would only imagine a quick, violent breakdown and recentralization of power.

Regardless of who, in the past, put it in place.

[ And her eyes narrow even further. ]

Oh, really. And why is that? Is it the middle class alone who gets to involve in representative democracy? I'm fairly certain that the lower classes can cast rational votes as well.

[He stifles a sigh before it escapes. It was like talking to a Betan.]

Tell me, Miss Jones, what percentage of your world's lower classes are literate?

There's no survey been done, but -

[ She thinks about the people she knows, tries to measure it out. About a third of her class in school got taught to read, the higher-achieving students, and when you figure that against the number of people who didn't go to school at all... ]

Twenty percent. Perhaps. A bit less.

[The dismissive air lifts slightly and his regard turns keen.]

And you've a representative democracy there? Government appointment?

Well...

[ She could just lie. But - ]

No. But we did have one, once upon a time. Before the current...militaristic oligarchy, I suppose, would be the best way to describe our system now.

You seek to change it, then? You seem to carry that passion.

Too right I do. I've been working to restore the old Parliament and democracy for years. Since I was a girl.

Edited 2016-01-20 19:02 (UTC)

A military oligarchy is not particularly easy to unseat or even change from the outside.

Your progress this far, if I might inquire?

...I have it on good authority that we end up succeeding.

So, it happened without you?

Not exactly. It's more that it will happen. [ Then, before he can question that - ] One of the many weird things that goes on here is time travel. Someone I know is from my future and told me about it.

Hm. [Aral sits back at that. His arms fold and face pinches in thought. Good sense would deny it, but where did such a thing live in a place like this? In the end, he says nothing at all to that.]

[ What - that's all she gets? No exclamations of disbelief? No cool-headed acceptance followed by a continuation of their conversation? Just hm?

Eurgh, fine. ]

Anyway. So democracy does have the potential to work even in a world like mine, where our rates of literacy are very low. Where education has been deliberately sabotaged. And that's amongst the urban population, too - who even knows what it's like out in the country.

[He puts aside those thoughts for now to reexamine them again later.]

Were you told how dear the war was in cost? I've some curiosity in this.

[ She lifts her eyebrows at him. ]

Oh, yeah? Why are you curious? [ The faint irony in her voice asks the question that she doesn't: are you scared? ]

[It is returned in a dry half smile and sardonic answer.]

What you propose as the future of your world would be little more than a play of suicide in three acts on mine.

But I do enjoy a thought exercise.

[ She narrows her eyes slightly. ]

Suicide. Why suicide, exactly?

For regardless of the many ways the first two acts would play, the final is inevitable.

The first sign of prolonged civil unrest, Komarr would fall - the planet nearest the other side of our wormhole. The revolution would be quick, far less bloody and bitter than what would be necessary to destroy the current ruling class on Barrayar.

Our trade would be cut off and our military injured if not halved, depending on the galatic arena at the moment.

When we are at the height of our battle and before a centralized power could establish itself, the Cetagandan invasion would begin. They know from experience that they cannot hold us, so the entire population would be eradicated prior to colonization.

[ A rather thin, skeptical smile answers that narrative. ]

That's the story they tell us, too. Enemies waiting at our borders, poised to strike. Imperial holdings lost if we don't let them maintain the reins of power. I understand that we do well enough once those reins are dropped.

Were that they were phantoms.

No, that was not propaganda; that was analysis. I would put my word to that.

(no subject)

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