Chapter 14 Take your Daughter to Work Day!
In the United States and Canada, an unofficial holiday/movement called Take Your Daughter to Work Day was started several years ago by feminists who wanted parents to encourage their daughters to think about future careers by taking them to work. This morphed into Take Your Child to Work Day, where people are encouraged to take daughters or sons to their jobs, especially if those jobs are nontraditional for certain genders. Vash's American girlfriend, the state of Colorado, probably mentioned this, and Gilbert thought it was an awesome idea. Read on to see if it really was or not.
"Remember what I told you," Gilbert said to Maria as they prepared to get off the train in Berlin. "It's going to seem like a big family gathering, but it's not a party. It's business. If you get bored, you've got your tablet and headphones, and you can go out to the hallway if you feel restless. But I want you to pay attention to some of what's going on because this is what you'll be doing in a few years." The train lurched to a halt and the two got off and began walking through the Charlottenburg neighborhood.
Maria nodded. Even though they came to Berlin often to visit Onkel Ludwig, she still always felt a little overwhelmed by the tall buildings and masses of people and cars. She was glad Vati was so familiar with the city; all she needed to do was hold his hand and follow him. Maybe she would have felt babyish doing that at home—she was ten and in her last year of Grundschule after all—but she didn't want to get separated from him here among the crowds and traffics of Berlin. Besides, she had to admit she still liked holding his hand; it made her feel confident and special to know she was with him.
"We'll drop off the suitcase at Onkel Ludi's, but he probably won't be at home. And then we'll have a lunch meeting with the other Eastern German states. You remember who are the Eastern ones, ja?"
"Ja, Vati!" Maria sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Onkel Gisil, Onkel Günther, and Tante Magda." He had drilled her about this for days before the meeting.
"Except remember this isn't a family gathering, it's business! So you'll address them as Herr Saxony, Herr Saxony-Anhalt, und Frau Thuringia. And don't keep calling me Vati; it's Herr Brandenburg."
"And what will they call me?" Maria didn't think it would be fair for her to pretend they were strangers while they patted her on the head and called her Spatzchen or Mariele or Mitzi.
"Maris Stella, Königin der Ostsee, Großherzogin von Mecklenburg-Vorpommern."1 He grinned at her and she knew he was playing. "They'll call you Frau Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, of course. But this is mostly watching and learning, so don't expect much beyond greetings."
They arrived at Ludwig's house. Maria looked longingly at her uncle's crated dogs, but her father reminded her that they were meeting the other Eastern German states for lunch in Prenzlauer Berg. All this back-and-forth, she thought as they took another bus, and not enough time to settle in with her headphones and movies. Before she knew it, Vati was telling her they were at their stop and they were getting out to eat at Anna Blume's Cafe. Maria looked longingly at the pastries and cakes under the glass counter. Maybe she could enjoy one while the adults talked business, she thought.
"Look, there they are!" She recognized Tante Magda's voice as they headed to the back of the restaurant. Maria was surprised at how formally everyone was dressed, the men in coats and ties, Thuringia in a tailored coatdress. She was glad now that Vati had insisted she couldn't wear jeans or leggings; she would have felt childish and out of place.
"Brandenburg." Onkel Gisil—no, make that Herr Saxony—nodded brusquely. He turned to Maria. He reminded her of an older, heavier Onkel Ludi, one whose spectacles and pulled back ponytail seemed to say he was a scientist and an artist. "Fraulein Mecklenburg-Vorpommern?" A small smile relaxed his gaze.
"Bitte, Saxony, she's not some little old maiden auntie. Call her Frau," Vati snorted. Maria noted how her father refused to meet Saxony's gaze as he pulled out his tablet from a briefcase.
"Frau Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, then." Saxony studied her. "How are your studies going, Frau?"
"Very good, Herr Saxony." Maria could feel her face turning red. "I have the highest marks in German and maths in my class. And we had a biology unit and I did a report on fish populations of the Baltic Sea!"
"A budding marine biologist, ja?" Saxony chuckled and Maria blushed further. She had told her mortal friends that she wanted to study that or else go into forestry and study wolves.
"That's good knowledge to have for your region," Onkel Günther—nein, Herr Saxony-Anhalt—said. Maria felt a little more at ease with her younger, handsome uncle who dressed fashionably. He showed her how to make simple videogames and animations. "Maybe you should see what kind of programs your state's universities have in that field and—"
"Frau Mecklenburg-Vorpommern's educational plans are not on the agenda I sent all of you," Vati interrupted. He had put on his reading glasses, and clinked his water glass with his knife. "Now let's get our food orders taken care of, and then we can review and approve our last meeting's minutes while we wait." Maria was surprised at the change in her father. He had gone from teasing, playful Vati to a serious-looking young man who scanned the other entities with the cool gaze of someone used to commanding others.
"Jawohl, mein Herr Brandenburg." Even Maria could sense the sarcasm in Saxony's voice. She edged her seat closer to Tante Magda—nein, make that Frau Thuringia—and studied her menu.
Within ten minutes she was bored. All the adults did were make motions, second them, discuss them, and vote on them. They batted words like "Soli tax," "equitable distribution," "electoral reforms" and "top ups" about like wads of paper in a game whose rules she didn't understand. She did understand that the game had opponents: Vati and her uncle Saxony. Thuringia and Saxony-Anhalt chimed in, mostly asking questions. After finishing her ham-and-cheese crêpes, Maria wondered if it would be rude of her to take out her tablet and start drawing. All the adults had their tablets out, supposedly skimming over the documents Vati had sent them. She looked over at Thuringia's tablet and saw her earnestly following along a chart that looked like a mountain. Then she looked over at Saxony-Anhalt's and saw he was playing solitaire. Suddenly she felt a lot better about doodling on hers.
Finally, Vati looked at his watch (silly Vati, he could use his tablet or phone like everyone else to tell time) and announced that they needed to finish up. "So, we are agreed on a strategy about countering the Western states on the redistribution plan of the Soli tax?" He asked. The other adults made motions and voted. The waiter came with the bill, each state paid his or her share, and it was time to get out and take another bus to the Alexanderplatz and the meeting of all the states.
Maria studied her father. He seemed tired and she didn't blame him. He had run the meeting, getting constant objections and challenges from Saxony. It saddened her that Onkel Gisil and Vati didn't seem to like each other very much; whenever they met, Onkel Gisil always asked about her artwork and he admired how well she drew. He told her she had real talent in drawing animals and people. "You're as good as Poland and almost as good as Northern Italy," he had said. She had been flattered, but when she had told Vati the compliment, she had noticed how he had bitten his lip before he had said anything. "You are a good artist, Maria, with your own talent and style," Vati had finally said. "You shouldn't be compared to anyone but yourself." It sounded like a compliment, she admitted, but she felt hurt, as if being compared to Poland or Northern Italy was a shameful thing.
"We're here!" Vati's crisp voice shook her out of her memory. Maria looked at the modern building that seemed built of nothing but glass panes and metal lines. Like a game of tic-tac-toe, she thought, before it starts. She followed him in and recognized some of the other German states, talking with each other or reviewing material on their tablets. When she saw Onkel Ludi, she couldn't help herself.
"Onkel Ludi!" She cried and ran towards him. Usually, he would smile and cry "Meine Lieblingsnichte" as he bent down to grab her in a bear hug.2 But today, she stopped when she saw how seriously he stared at her, as if she had thrown a snowball at his back. "I mean, Herr Deutschland," she mumbled, wishing the sleek marble floor would slide open and swallow her up.
"Frau Mecklenburg-Vorpommern." Her uncle held out his hand and she shook it. "It's a pleasure to see someone actually excited about our meetings for once." When he smiled, she felt better. It was like a joke between equals and she no longer felt as if she had committed a terrible mistake.
Vati caught up with the two of them. "I hope Frau here hasn't been bending your ear about her own plans for revamping the Solidarity tax."
"Nein, Brandenburg, she has not given any of your secret attacks away." Maria noted the mischief dancing in Onkel Ludi's eyes. "Tamp down on that enthusiasm and she might be able to play as deep a game as you!"
Maria felt the conversation soar over her head; worse, she felt as if she were the ball being volleyed back and forth between the two males in a game that amused them but confused her. She didn't like it. "I'll sit outside and read, if you don't mind," she sniffed.
"Nein, Spatz—Frau, stay until the first break. You'll learn how we conduct meetings and what are some of the current issues that face our mortals." Germany wasn't laughing at her anymore; his pale blue eyes were sincere. "You'll also learn how your father has taken care of your state over the past few years, to get it ready for when you can officially represent it."
Maria studied both of them. They looked so different, and yet the same expression of pride shone on both their faces. She wanted to feel as happy as they apparently did, but she felt uncomfortable. "When will that happen?" She asked.
"Eighteen." "Twenty-two." Vati and Onkel Ludi spoke at the same time and then glared at each other. "That's something we'll need to discuss," Onkel Ludi growled, and Vati huffed and nodded.
Normally, Maria would have found it funny, but she calculated the differences. She had eight or twelve years of freedom left, before she would also attend these meetings, making and seconding motions, and arguing about boring things as if her life depended upon it. No marine biology, no ground-breaking study of wolves, no graphic novels written and illustrated by herself, no sailing around the world, no winning the gold in swimming or fencing in the Olympics. Just meetings and reports and mind-numbing politics with the same family members forever. Her favorite uncle and her beloved father were doting guards coaxing her into a glass-and-steel jail. She suddenly wanted to run away, far to her forests and beaches, where no one would ever find her.
So what do you think of Maria as she's getting older and more aware of her future? What do you think is coming down the road?
1 Latin: Star of the Sea. German: Queen of the Baltic, Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern.
2 German: My favorite niece