Peace
Señora Ama de Casa turned off the television. She had just spent an hour watching the evening news and somehow knew less about the world than when she had switched it on. There might be a war. There might be a ceasefire. There might be peace. Or there might be another emergency summit to discuss why none of the previous emergency summits had achieved anything except better catering.
The Black Cat jumped onto the armrest and looked at her.
“So… did the war end?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did a new one begin?”
“I still have no idea.”
“Then what exactly did they report?”
“They reported… progress.”
“In what?”
“In statements.”
The Cat nodded thoughtfully.
“Ah. Humanity’s most renewable resource.”
The following morning one side declared victory. The other side declared victory too. A third nation called for peace. A fourth approved another shipment of weapons in the name of peace. A fifth announced new sanctions to defend peace. A sixth proposed another round of negotiations so the war could continue just long enough for the eventual peace agreement to be marketed as historic.
“Remarkable,” said the Cat. “Everyone wants peace.”
“They say they do.”
“They just can’t agree on the inconvenient detail of starting with it.”
Outside, the Archons sat around their familiar round table, sipping coffee while studying reports and glowing charts.
“Status report?” asked the eldest.
“Excellent.”
“Panic?”
“Stable.”
“Outrage?”
“Self-sustaining.”
“Division?”
“Growing organically.”
“And common sense?”
The youngest Archon checked his tablet.
“It continues to lose every election.”
“Splendid.”
One of the others smiled behind his golden mask.
“People still believe they’re choosing sides.”
“They are,” replied the eldest. “They’re choosing between headlines.”
Inside, Señora sighed.
“I miss the days when the news was about people.”
The Black Cat stared at the dark television screen.
“It still is.”
“It is?”
“The people just aren’t the main characters anymore.”
“They’re not?”
“No. They’re the audience.”
“And the politicians?”
“The cast.”
“And the war?”
The Cat paused.
“The most expensive stage production ever financed by people who never bought a ticket.”
Silence settled over the room.
Outside, the Archons quietly added another successful day to the report. There had been enough fear, enough noise, enough certainty from people who knew almost nothing, and enough carefully manufactured outrage to keep everyone staring at the stage.
The eldest Archon closed the folder.
“The experiment continues.”
The Black Cat looked out into the night.
“The greatest trick was never convincing people to hate each other. It was convincing them that the show would end if they kept watching.”
