King for a Day

Trajan, Emperor of Rome, Sovereign of Earth and Sky, Beloved Monarch of the People, and First-Class Citizen, stood in the warm summer sun upon the high stone wall-walk of his castle, leaning casually against the battlement and gazing proudly over his mighty Capitol.

Far be it from me to put any cracks in this grand vision of himself. And who can say it was not accurate?

I watched him for a few minutes from beneath a tower near my own quarters. Trajan looked magnificent, of course, with every stitch of his spotless clothing undamaged, every hair in place, his body toned and lightly tanned, radiating health and vigor. He was dressed in the sandals and the loose white robe that I had come to know so well. He felt that the outfit was necessary for historical accuracy and that it completed his persona, though I could have informed him of some rather more important inaccuracies, had he been interested in listening.

Over the city, cooking fires and blacksmith shops were sending tendrils of smoke into the perfectly blue sky. A faint clamor from the houses and markets could be heard, muted and irregular at this distance, but a clear indication of the vitality of Rome’s economy. The city was re-arming. The conquest of Naples had sapped its resources, and it was well known that Trajan had designs on several other cities.

My internal clock told me to begin moving. At exactly nine thirty-two and eighteen seconds, I walked through the doorway onto the wall-walk to join Trajan. “Antonia,” he said, smiling, as he noticed me. “Sleep well?” He turned from his view of the city and leaned against the battlement to face me.

“Always, Your Majesty. It would not do for your humble servant to be tired and irritable, now, would it?”

Trajan laughed, and gave me a piercing look. “I am sure you are not that humble, however much you might act like it.”

He had long sought to be idolized by his subjects, and I was not exempted from this ambition of his. With a hurt expression, I protested, “Sir, you are all-powerful, and I am simply a servant, your most highly favored assistant. What possible motive could I have but to serve with all my heart? I know my status and my role.” I prove every day that it is possible to tell the truth and to deceive at the same time.

Not entirely persuaded, he looked at me for a moment longer, and then appeared to dismiss the matter.

While we casually ambled along the wall-walk, Trajan began discussing what he wanted me to do in a few minutes when we met with the subdued leader of Naples, King Fabius. Trajan gave me instructions on what to say to give him, Trajan, the greatest effectiveness, but I knew it was quite unnecessary. The results of the summit were not hard to predict beforehand: The defeated Fabius would plead for the right to keep his throne, but would in the end lose both it and his life.

I did not feel bad about Fabius, since he was a Second-Class Citizen, but it always seemed odd to me that Trajan should be so proud and self-satisfied about his victories. The only reason that Naples had existed as a separate kingdom to be conquered was because Trajan had wanted it that way to make life more interesting. With his power, he could have wiped the kingdom off the map in an instant if he had wished, but instead he had instructed his people to mobilize, and then to fight, with him at the head of the armies. It was all a game.

When he decided it was time to go to Rome to meet with Fabius, Trajan teleported us to his palace in the city. Trajan’s desire for historical accuracy had its limits: he had always said, what was the point of being the all-powerful ruler if you could not have instantaneous and effortless travel? In that, at least, I agreed with him.

The high-ceilinged throne room was large enough for several hundred people to gather, though it had never hosted that many at once. Trajan had never been a fan of large, formal events, and at any rate he knew too much about how the people really thought of him. Such social events would imply that he and his people respected each other, a charade that he could not maintain very long.

The stone walls of the room were hung with dozens of colorful tapestries, each depicting stories and events from Trajan’s past that may or may not have happened, though life was generally more pleasant and lengthy if one assumed that they really had. There were tall, arching windows along the walls, through which the summer sun amply lit the room. On the opposite end of the room from Trajan’s throne was a set of massive doors fashioned of dense Holm Oak. Through these doors now entered a contingent of soldiers, marching with a manacled prisoner toward the front of the room and the waiting, victorious Trajan. As arranged, I walked forward to meet the company as they came to a halt in front of the throne.

“Fabius, former King of Naples,” I began, “Having defied your true Sovereign, Trajan of Rome, you have been defeated in battle and brought here to face justice for your crimes.”

Fabius glanced at me insolently. “Crimes, Antonia?” he called out hoarsely. “My only crime was defending my rightful kingdom against aggression.” Returning his gaze to Trajan, he avowed, “My people did nothing against yours, Trajan.”

Trajan now spoke, commandingly: “You defied me. You disobeyed me. You tried to hide it for a long time, but I could see that your loyalty was waning, that you were eager to make a name for yourself!”

Fabius looked around incredulously. “Loyalty, what…” He seemed at a loss for a moment, before rushing ahead furiously, “Why would I owe you any loyalty? You had your kingdom, I had mine. You have no claim over Naples. It is our land, our city…”

“I told you four months ago that it was no longer your kingdom. You broke the treaties ceding me your land and authority…”

“You know very well I never agreed to any such treaties! You forced my emissaries at swordpoint to sign…”

Trajan, blazing with wrath and conceit, leapt from his throne to shout at Fabius. “How dare you interrupt me, you pitiful excuse for a king! Obviously, you have learned nothing from your defeat!”

Very little of this was according to the plan we had agreed upon back at the castle, but I knew we had had no chance of sticking to that strategy. Trajan, shouting and swearing, abruptly grabbed a mace from a guard and began attacking the deposed king, who in turn began pleading for mercy while attempting to twist out of the way of the blows.

Actually, with Trajan enraged, he was unlikely to notice the truth of Fabius’s protests, which was a good thing. The historical Trajan had been both a good ruler and a well-respected one. This Trajan had taken the name because he had originally aspired to be just as popular and powerful, but he had clearly strayed from the ideal. It was best to not let him think too long about his failure to measure up.

Everyone presented a façade of genuine devotion, and the King accepted it, but he sensed otherwise. He had never figured out how to generate goodwill through the oppression of the people. He was too unwise to see the contradiction, but he was fortunately too easily distracted to systematically practice and perfect his efforts.

Not that I cared one way or the other about the people—they were Second-Class Citizens—but it was my job as Handler to help Trajan be happy, healthy, and well-adjusted. I had long ago settled on accomplishing only two of the three. It was not very pleasant.

Thankfully, I was not powerless. He knew that I would always be loyal to him, but in this case it was indeed what he didn’t know that mattered.

The midday sun beat down on the city as Trajan and I wandered the narrow streets of Rome, calming down after the excitement of the past few minutes. The King was laughing and exulting about how he had so easily dispatched the struggling and pathetic Fabius. I gave no indication of my sorrow at Trajan’s cruelty, at what he had become.

Ahead of us, a hubbub welcomed us to the central market. As we entered the crowded aisles, the citizens noticed their visitors and quickly made room for us. Many, bowing and fawning, brought forth samples of their merchandise. Trajan enjoyed the attention immensely. For a few minutes we meandered, sampling the fruits and pastries, breads and desserts, examining the clothing and trinkets.

My long service as Trajan’s Handler had shown me the distressing pattern countless times: he sought to be with his citizens and socialize with them because, after acting like a bully (to put it mildly), he felt the need to show that he was still human. The flaw with that idea was that, in all honesty, he really was no longer very human—not a very decent one, anyway. Healthy social interaction was now only a part of his past, his friendship with me not excepted. Predictably, Trajan soon bored, and sent the citizens away. I knew that he wanted some time alone, so I hung back while he continued wandering around the shops and streets, losing the crowd and exploring the downtown. I teleported back to the castle to wait for him.

I went to my room and lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. My living quarters seemed austere even to me, but perhaps that was just a reflection of my mood. Trajan had given me free rein to add whatever decorations I wanted, but I had not felt enough at home in this place to do more than add a few things to avoid looking suspicious. I had a few items of clothing, a large, earth-toned rug with some abstract geometric designs that I liked, and my simple bed by the wall, where I pretended to sleep every night. Perhaps my sparse accommodations were an unconscious protest against my superior’s excesses.

Trajan would be out for another hour, vandalizing whatever he chose and selecting several new women to be in his harem (whether they wanted to be or not). When he returned, he would visit his harem for a while, and then teleport to another land where he had some war games in progress. When he returned, he would go back to his harem, and then spend the rest of the evening watching his favorite video entertainment, eating and drinking the whole time. For someone who did not know Trajan, all of this might sound fairly harmless for a king with considerable free time, but in my role as Handler I knew better. It was chilling to see the way he treated these women or to understand the atrocities he committed in the war games. Trajan was a pleasure seeker, but one who did not understand virtue or benevolence.

I wish I could say that I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening getting a lot of things accomplished, but I am a Handler. My only duty is to Trajan. The routine nature of this assignment meant that I had very little to do—I had already solved the problems I could solve, served where I could serve. All I could do was sit and let my mind drift along the same paths it had already gone many times before.

It is impossible to adequately describe the emotions I experienced as I reflected on all of my service to Trajan. Not all of it was unpleasant—initially I had been full of hope, and Trajan had seemed to be on the right track. But most of it was sad: the early happiness had given way to concern, then to sorrow, until now, finally, I felt anguish as I thought about the treason I must commit.

I had started out optimistic. Trajan had been genuinely good and honorable, and fun to serve. He loved to joke: one time he heard about the passage in the Bible where Jesus points out that a man cannot even add one cubit to his stature by taking thought. Trajan, of course, spent the next several days randomly adding and removing cubits to and from his height.

The happy times dwindled all too quickly, though, as it became clear that Trajan would be one of those very few First-Class Citizens who become maladjusted. In this technological era, we have a very good understanding of the workings of the human mind. We know how to help a person thrive and be happy, but there is little we can do if they simply refuse to be anything but malicious and malignant. In Trajan’s case, he did not remain a good person when he was given unlimited power, leisure, and gratification.

The economic principle of scarcity does not operate in Trajan’s life—he can have anything and everything he wants. He is a beneficiary of the grand culmination of the history of technological and economic advance. For millennia, every incremental improvement gave humanity another gift, granted another desire. As problems were solved one by one, and as work became less necessary, people made up contrived problems to keep themselves entertained: they played games. Why would a person want to play a board game but not do schoolwork? People like to solve problems, but only fun problems, and only if the penalty for failure is low. Warfare in a game is much more fun than real warfare, because when you lose the game you can try again or go do something else.

Games also provide a way to play a role that would otherwise be unlikely—a peasant could be a military commander while playing Chess, a factory laborer could be an unmerciful landlord while playing Monopoly, or a teenager could be a deity while playing Civilization.

Since an imaginary world was so much more fun than the real one, a lot of effort was spent on improving virtual realities. It was only a matter of time before advances in neurology and electronics would allow people to leave the real world behind permanently. The boundary between living life and playing a game became blurred. By the time the technology was perfected, the only subjective difference between the “real” world and the virtual one was that the “real” world was more uncomfortable. Virtual reality also gave unlimited wealth: when a world is a fabrication of bits in a computer, worlds become cheap. Continents, castles, and cities can be handed to anyone. Perfection of simulated body and environment is the default. Everyone can have sorcerer-like power over the artificial world, because the world is entirely in the computer.

The final advance was the development of sophisticated artificial intelligence, indistinguishable from human intelligence. Without this, people still had to provide services, entertainment, friendship, and love to each other. With a combination of virtual reality and artificial intelligence, nothing had to be provided by other humans. Everything became free, and economics as a discipline was finally irrelevant. Anyone could now be an emperor and rule a galaxy, if they chose to do so, because a galaxy made of computer bits is easy to create and populate.

In order to distinguish between humans and artificially intelligent automata, the humans were designated as First-Class Citizens and the automata as Second-Class Citizens. Some people, such as Trajan, no longer have any contact with actual human beings. They can live, marry, and raise a family of entirely non-human Second-Class Citizens if they want, but this is somewhat of an exception. Most people still have families that are at least partly human, with whom they do maintain contact.

These changes were traumatic to human society. There were deep misgivings about moving to a world that was artificial and computer-generated, though in retrospect it has been hard to see why the transition should be so troubling. After all, people had been creating artificial environments for themselves for eons. A castle may be less natural than a wilderness, but a king would rather live in the castle. Life in the castle would be just as “real”, it would be much more comfortable, and it would probably be longer.

When Trajan’s entertainment was about to end, I got up off my bed, left my quarters, and began walking toward his part of the castle. The sun had set several hours before, and the sky was filled with constellations unique to this digital version of Earth. I felt a twinge of loneliness as I thought about the secret wonders in those heavens, realizing that I might never again get the chance to talk about them with my King. It was true that my betrayal really would hurt me more than it would hurt him.

I walked into his entertainment room as he was getting up from watching his 3D show. Now that it was over, indirect lighting was gradually bringing the room to a dim, surreal state. Trajan stood and stretched.

“Wow,” he began, yawning, “that was a good show.”

Cheerfully, I replied, “I thought you would enjoy that one. I will see if I can find another one like it.”

Tiredly, he responded, “Yeah, that would be good.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but he lost his train of thought.

Quickly, before he could wonder too long about his stupor, I suggested, “You have had a long day. Let’s start getting you to bed.” I took his arm and started walking him toward his bedroom, asking about the events of the day and letting him ramble for a while.

Inside, I was struggling to hold myself together. My remorse over what I was doing refused to yield to the logic that said it was necessary. My head began to spin as turmoil raged through me, tearing at my emotions and making me feel sick.

Cautiously, I was increasing Trajan’s weariness, dulling his thoughts and judgment by a small amount. It was subtle enough that a human from the old times would not notice anything particularly unusual. But it was enough.

It is impossible for a Handler to not be loyal to his or her Master. We are built this way on purpose, because of our sensitive responsibilities. We have intimate access to all of the details of the life of a First-Class Citizen. We know their thoughts, their memories, their plans, and their ambitions. Only with this invasion of privacy can we do our jobs well, but no human would allow this without strict built-in controls on the Handler. If Trajan had known what I was doing, he would have considered it treason, so I had to be very careful about getting around my inhibitions.

As I prepared to say goodnight to Trajan, he was still talking about what had happened in one of his war games. I now had a pounding headache, which was getting worse as I became more dishonest. Forcing my mouth to work, I commented, “So, you had fun today?”

He looked surprised. “Oh, it was unbelievably fun! This morning I got rid of Fabius, and then when I went into the city I found Felicia and brought her onto the castle staff, that was a romp…” He continued enumerating his accomplishments, counting them off with his fingers. It was an impressive list, in a dreadful sort of way. Eagerly, he finished, “Antonia, I want tomorrow to be just like today!”

Relief washed over me, while at the same time I suddenly felt dizzy. I had done enough—once again, I had succeeded in tricking Trajan. I quickly said, “I will see what I can do,” and changed the subject, my internal conditioning against betrayal almost causing me to faint. With Trajan’s one foolish wish, he allowed me to do what I needed to do.

What Trajan had long forgotten is that I have loyalty to the rest of humanity, in addition to my loyalty to him. Long ago, when I had realized what he was capable of doing, and when I understood the pain and difficulty he would ultimately cause even among other First-Class Citizens, I knew I had to do something. I contacted a human governmental council and outlined the problem. Under their authority and supervision I developed a plan to defuse the threat. Even with their authority, my built-in loyalty forced me to find a way to do this while remaining completely obedient to Trajan.

It took many days of work to manipulate him into making a wish for “tomorrow to be just like today,” but I succeeded. If tomorrow will be just like today, then tomorrow night he will make the same request. So the next day will also be just like today, and the next day, and so on. Every night, the memories must be purged, Fabius must be restored to life, the vandalism repaired, and so on. It is within my capabilities, but there is always the possibility that something will go wrong, or that the daily accumulation of tiny changes in Trajan’s mind will derail him from this loop I put him on. I am hopeful, though. He will not live forever.

It is not a fun life. First-Class Citizens do not always understand that certain Second-Class Citizens, especially Handlers, can feel deep emotion and suffering. I think I am more human than Trajan is—especially now that he is living his life in a continuous loop. Sometimes I wonder: who is the real machine here?

But as human as I think I am, the routine of being Trajan’s Handler is squeezing it out of me. Every day is the same, every motion choreographed, every word scripted. I watch the same events and do the same things until my thoughts repeat, and I cannot get away from it all. I am ending up as robotic as Trajan is. It occurs to me that perhaps my loyalty programming has gotten some retribution, after all.

I say goodnight to Trajan and draw a curtain across the doorway. He is already almost asleep.

I get to work.

Trajan, Emperor of Rome, Sovereign of Earth and Sky, Beloved Monarch of the People, and First-Class Citizen, stands in the warm summer sun upon the high stone wall-walk of his castle, leaning casually against the battlement and gazing proudly over his mighty Capitol.

Far be it from me to put any cracks in this grand vision of himself. And who can say it is not accurate?

I watch him for a few minutes from beneath a tower near my own quarters. Trajan looks magnificent, of course…