Part 133, Chapter 2281
Chapter Two Thousand Two Hundred Eighty-One
23rd February 1974
Plänterwald, Berlin
“I suppose that you will include all of this too in your diary?” Suga asked Anne who played the role of unofficial Observer of the Imperial Court for the last few decades having seen two Emperors and three Empresses. Today, Anne was among the group walking with Suga along the river as they discussed matters ranging from the plans for going to University, possibly abroad, that the current Kammerfräulein, Kat von Mischner’s daughter Marie was making to the handsome members of the First Foot Guard Regiment who had been walking a respectful distance in front and behind them. Presently, the soldiers were having tangle with the strange geese who had appeared along the banks of the River Spree over the last few years, big brown birds with black heads and a white chinstrap. As it turned out, these geese were aggressive and territorial. Anne supposed that they would have to be to expand their range into new places. The Guardsmen were not thrilled to have such difficulty with the geese who had the option of retreating into the river if confronted directly and having an audience composed of the Empress’ inner circle.
A lot of thoughts ran through Anne’s mind as she considered how to answer Suga’s question. Everyone knew that Anne kept extensive diaries, chronicling everything that she heard and saw to the best of her memory. Only Kris Lehrer, the head of the BND’s secretive Falkensee School, could claim to have read the portion of Anne’s diary that included much of her early life. No one else had ever been allowed near to the dozens of volumes kept on a high shelf in Anne’s home office in the decades since. While there was a part of her that wanted to burn the collection of notebooks because much of what was in them was deeply personal. Whenever Anne went back through them, she discovered that they contained some of what she considered her best writing. Beyond her late childhood, her diary included things like her marriage and the birth of her children. Lately though, the double-edged nature of having it had made itself most keenly felt with the recent breakdown of her parent’s marriage.
Anne’s mother had said that with Anne and her sister Margot being grown there was no longer a need to maintain the pretense. Anne’s mother had known about her father’s infidelity for ages and had grown tired of it. When Anne had gone through the earliest volume of her diary, it was very clear that Anne herself had known about it from the time she was eleven or twelve. There was no escaping that. Her mother also said she had had enough of how she and Anne’s father led totally separate lives and all the divorce had done was make it official. In the back of Anne’s mind, she couldn’t help but consider that she was getting a preview of her own future when she had heard her mother mention that second part. While she had not found any reason to suspect that Martin was cheating on her, it was clear that they had been drifting slowly apart for years. At least her children, Otto, and Lina were old enough to understand that…
Anne was lost in her thoughts and not paying attention until she noticed that one of the geese was hissing at her from less than a meter away. A member of the First Foot was trying to shoo the goose away as he looked at Anne apologetically. The First Foot Guard Regiment took their role as the protectors of the Imperial family extremely seriously, the idea that they would have any difficulty with ill-tempered waterfowl as a bit of an embarrassment.
“I try to include as much detail as I can” Anne finally replied to Suga. “That way I can go back to my thoughts at that exact moment.”
“That sounds wonderful” Suga said. Anne could tell that the Empress didn’t really understand what it entailed. How writing was a meditation as well as a compulsion. If she couldn’t think of anything to write with her novels, she was scribbling in the latest volume of her diary. If she were unable to do either of those things, it swiftly became a source of anxiety.
New York City, New York
Ironies abounded here in the Big Apple.
The bastion of Free-Market Capitalism where the Stock Exchange had been practically built atop a Slave Market. Andreas had known little about America before he had landed in New York and frequently thought about how if he had a full understanding of the country he probably would have gone elsewhere. Now he was stuck here because he lacked the means to travel further. The Owner of the bodega where he worked was what Andreas had figured out was typical of the sort of opinionated self-styled revolutionary found in Manhattan. All about the “Revolution” but only so long as it didn’t cost him anything. That apparently included paying Andreas peanuts and holding his immigration status over his head if he ever complained about it. The truth was that the man was a Kulak and totally unaware of the role that men like him had actually played in history. With the store closed for the night, Andreas was mopping the floor while listening to the Owner pontificate at length about the events of the day and the uproar over something that had happened a few days earlier in Los Angeles.
From long practice Andreas had tuned the Owner out and considered his present lot in life. He had once actually struck a major blow for the revolution, and it apparently meant fuckall. Judging by what was on the covers of the trashy magazines on the media racks, the Hohenzollern Family was still firmly ensconced in Germany. Them along with their even more useless English and Italian cousins provided plenty of voyeuristic thrills for Americans. You might think that a nation which prided itself on having won a war whose entire purpose involved getting rid of a King wouldn’t worship those parasites the way they did.
“You missed a spot” The Owner said with the sneer that Andreas had long grown accustomed to. With it being winter, all manner of crud was tracked in off the street and the floor tiles were an odd color of grey which were impossible to keep clean for some reason.
With that, the Owner went back to reading the magazine that featured the schedules for upcoming horse races. It was nice to know that he worked for a self-styled revolutionary who shamelessly exploited the Working-Class while the crumb bet on the ponies, Andreas thought to himself sourly. How had it come to this?
23rd February 1974
Plänterwald, Berlin
“I suppose that you will include all of this too in your diary?” Suga asked Anne who played the role of unofficial Observer of the Imperial Court for the last few decades having seen two Emperors and three Empresses. Today, Anne was among the group walking with Suga along the river as they discussed matters ranging from the plans for going to University, possibly abroad, that the current Kammerfräulein, Kat von Mischner’s daughter Marie was making to the handsome members of the First Foot Guard Regiment who had been walking a respectful distance in front and behind them. Presently, the soldiers were having tangle with the strange geese who had appeared along the banks of the River Spree over the last few years, big brown birds with black heads and a white chinstrap. As it turned out, these geese were aggressive and territorial. Anne supposed that they would have to be to expand their range into new places. The Guardsmen were not thrilled to have such difficulty with the geese who had the option of retreating into the river if confronted directly and having an audience composed of the Empress’ inner circle.
A lot of thoughts ran through Anne’s mind as she considered how to answer Suga’s question. Everyone knew that Anne kept extensive diaries, chronicling everything that she heard and saw to the best of her memory. Only Kris Lehrer, the head of the BND’s secretive Falkensee School, could claim to have read the portion of Anne’s diary that included much of her early life. No one else had ever been allowed near to the dozens of volumes kept on a high shelf in Anne’s home office in the decades since. While there was a part of her that wanted to burn the collection of notebooks because much of what was in them was deeply personal. Whenever Anne went back through them, she discovered that they contained some of what she considered her best writing. Beyond her late childhood, her diary included things like her marriage and the birth of her children. Lately though, the double-edged nature of having it had made itself most keenly felt with the recent breakdown of her parent’s marriage.
Anne’s mother had said that with Anne and her sister Margot being grown there was no longer a need to maintain the pretense. Anne’s mother had known about her father’s infidelity for ages and had grown tired of it. When Anne had gone through the earliest volume of her diary, it was very clear that Anne herself had known about it from the time she was eleven or twelve. There was no escaping that. Her mother also said she had had enough of how she and Anne’s father led totally separate lives and all the divorce had done was make it official. In the back of Anne’s mind, she couldn’t help but consider that she was getting a preview of her own future when she had heard her mother mention that second part. While she had not found any reason to suspect that Martin was cheating on her, it was clear that they had been drifting slowly apart for years. At least her children, Otto, and Lina were old enough to understand that…
Anne was lost in her thoughts and not paying attention until she noticed that one of the geese was hissing at her from less than a meter away. A member of the First Foot was trying to shoo the goose away as he looked at Anne apologetically. The First Foot Guard Regiment took their role as the protectors of the Imperial family extremely seriously, the idea that they would have any difficulty with ill-tempered waterfowl as a bit of an embarrassment.
“I try to include as much detail as I can” Anne finally replied to Suga. “That way I can go back to my thoughts at that exact moment.”
“That sounds wonderful” Suga said. Anne could tell that the Empress didn’t really understand what it entailed. How writing was a meditation as well as a compulsion. If she couldn’t think of anything to write with her novels, she was scribbling in the latest volume of her diary. If she were unable to do either of those things, it swiftly became a source of anxiety.
New York City, New York
Ironies abounded here in the Big Apple.
The bastion of Free-Market Capitalism where the Stock Exchange had been practically built atop a Slave Market. Andreas had known little about America before he had landed in New York and frequently thought about how if he had a full understanding of the country he probably would have gone elsewhere. Now he was stuck here because he lacked the means to travel further. The Owner of the bodega where he worked was what Andreas had figured out was typical of the sort of opinionated self-styled revolutionary found in Manhattan. All about the “Revolution” but only so long as it didn’t cost him anything. That apparently included paying Andreas peanuts and holding his immigration status over his head if he ever complained about it. The truth was that the man was a Kulak and totally unaware of the role that men like him had actually played in history. With the store closed for the night, Andreas was mopping the floor while listening to the Owner pontificate at length about the events of the day and the uproar over something that had happened a few days earlier in Los Angeles.
From long practice Andreas had tuned the Owner out and considered his present lot in life. He had once actually struck a major blow for the revolution, and it apparently meant fuckall. Judging by what was on the covers of the trashy magazines on the media racks, the Hohenzollern Family was still firmly ensconced in Germany. Them along with their even more useless English and Italian cousins provided plenty of voyeuristic thrills for Americans. You might think that a nation which prided itself on having won a war whose entire purpose involved getting rid of a King wouldn’t worship those parasites the way they did.
“You missed a spot” The Owner said with the sneer that Andreas had long grown accustomed to. With it being winter, all manner of crud was tracked in off the street and the floor tiles were an odd color of grey which were impossible to keep clean for some reason.
With that, the Owner went back to reading the magazine that featured the schedules for upcoming horse races. It was nice to know that he worked for a self-styled revolutionary who shamelessly exploited the Working-Class while the crumb bet on the ponies, Andreas thought to himself sourly. How had it come to this?
Last edited: