Chapter 261: Live Studio Audience (Dead Interviewee)
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"Thank you for joining us today, Miss Mar," said the host.
"Thank you for inviting me, Jennifer," said Mar. "And, please, just Mar. You'll make me feel like I'm teaching again."
Which wouldn't be a bad thing in and of itself. Mar had enjoyed that aspect of her life, for the most part. But she wanted to be firmly in this moment.
She glanced at the studio audience. This moment, which had the potential to be very sweet indeed.
"You were a teacher?" asked Jennifer.
Mar let her weight settle against the couch, a deliberate act at odds with the natural tendency of ghosts to float. "Yes," she said. "Before my death. I've done a few different things since then."
"What kinds of things?" asked Jennifer.
"Well, for a while, I was a laboratory assistant," said Mar, trying to keep her words slow and level, measured and understandable. "But that wasn't a particularly good experience. You see, I'd formed in an area called Missing Theory, which was severely disrupted in the wake of World War Two, and as a new ghost, I had to find someone stronger than myself for protection."
"World War Two? How would that affect the Ghost Zone? I was under the impression that there wasn't any way to travel between our worlds easily until recently."
"Well, before anyone starts trying to dig up secret Nazi experiments," said Mar, "remember, we're talking about ghosts and the Ghost Zone. The Dead don't leave behind their grudges when they cross over. Most of them don't, anyway."
Jennifer blinked rapidly. "Are you saying there are Nazi ghosts?"
"Not so many anymore. The tribes of Israel have a significant presence in the Infinite Realms. But, yes. Any group that large is going to have ghosts eventually. Ah, but back to your original question. I was a lab assistant for a while, but I had some irreconcilable differences with my employers, and left as soon as I felt it was safe. Then I spent some time in the Digressed Tower, which is a building that lets people inside it experience different realities – not like drugs, but some people use it like that, I suppose, and there is the cheese floor, which is really unethical in my opinion – and was able to stay there long enough to teach myself about portals and get some more basic knowledge about the Realms. The Zone, I should say. After that, I got passage to Method, a different Realm, and spent a year taking various classes in exchange for, well, essentially drudge work. I wandered a bit after that, largely in places where time doesn't travel in straight lines, and after that I went back to Missing Theory and made a permanent portal between there and Method."
Mar's aura rippled in embarrassment as she realized that she had, once again, rambled on at increasingly high speeds, forgetting to pause. Sometimes not having to breathe was useful. Sometimes it made it difficult to follow conversational courtesies.
"Ah," said Jennifer. "Could I ask why you'd want to do that?"
"Partially to help people in my situation. Partially because a lot of people in Method – it's another science-focused community – were interested in the ruins. And some scientists do still live there, and they like to collaborate, sometimes."
"I see, I see," said Jennifer. "But then you decided to become an ambassador."
"Well, I was asked to join the embassy," corrected Mar. "I suppose I could have refused, but since Prince Phantom himself made the request, it really wouldn't have been proper of me."
"Right, Prince Phantom. You've met him?"
"A few times, yes."
"What's he like?"
"He's very interested in astronomy," said Mar. "Our last conversation, before we left was about reestablishing the Spherical Observatory of Gyldennaese. Gyldennaese is still rather taken with the geohelicentric model of the solar system, but his data collection and collation skills are something else – not to mention all the phenomenon he's discovered… And the observatory! I never saw it whole, of course, only after the science wars came through, but what you can see of it is remarkable! It took dozens of astronomers to make the first time around. It's really sad that everyone focuses on the geoheliocentrism and won't help him fix the observatory… Although I suppose that could also have something to do with the state of Missing Theory in general – I hope the plan to clean up the area works. Did you know—?"
Jennifer cleared her throat. "Can we take this back to the prince?"
"Oh, yes, sorry about that. Sometimes my thoughts get away from me. But Prince Phantom is really an amazing person. Really dedicated to the good of his people, and it shows. It'll be amazing to see how things change, now that he holds the throne."
"He became ruler of the Ghost Zone – of the Infinite Realms – only recently, didn't he?"
"Yes," said Mar, "the Council of Ancients only selected him between two or three months ago, and his coronation and the Ring Ceremony happened even more recently than that."
Jennifer leaned forward. "Now, this is what a lot of our viewers—" she paused to wave at the cameras, "—are interested in. How exactly does your government work?"
"That's a very broad question," said Mar. "And social sciences are not my strong suit. But, hm. Before I start, it's very important for you to understand that ghosts aren't human, and the physical laws that govern the Ghost Zone are very different from those that govern the Earth."
"You and your colleagues at the ghost embassy have mentioned floating islands, among other things."
"It's more than that," said Mar. She ran her fingers down the edge of one of Lie's false hems. "Many ghosts can, and do, subsist off nothing but ambient ectoplasmic energy. Air itself. Our society, such that it is, is essentially post-scarcity. I'm not saying that suffering, danger, and competition for resources don't exist there, because they do, but the average ghost in the Zone isn't going to be worried about their next meal or where they're going to sleep at night. For ghosts, the main instinctive drive is fulfilling their Obsessions. That changes a lot."
"I can imagine. Now, this is something that I'm not entirely clear on, but what are Obsessions?"
"They're…" Mar hesitated, trying to determine how to explain to a human. "They're the reason a ghost exists. For the Dead, they're the reason you come back. Your passion, sometimes, most of the time. But in some cases, it's obligation. Duty. Revenge. Stuff like that. But, uh, that means that ghosts usually don't need to have communities quite the way humans do. And when you do have communities, they're often… themed, almost. There are Realms like Elysium, modeled after ancient Greece, and communities like Method and Missing Theory, that are focused on science, and places like the Far Frozen, where everyone is one type of ghost."
"It must be difficult to govern all of these different places fairly," said Jennifer.
"Yes," said Mar. "Which is why, most of the time, Realms sort of act like independent city-states. They have their own laws, that might conflict with the laws of other Realms, their own systems of government, their own culture, everything. They even go to war with each other, a lot of the time. But, ah, war in the Zone isn't… it isn't the same as war here. It is very hard to end a ghost."
"Hard to kill something that's already dead?" There was a smattering of laughter from the audience.
"Well… in some cases, yes, but it tends to be a little more complicated than that. All this to say, ghosts in general are very independent. So, what you might call our central government tends to let individual Realms and communities sort out their own internal issues, unless they're invited or petitioned to intercede, the safety of the Infinite Realms as a whole is at risk, or someone broke a Taboo. Which… saying it like that makes it sound like a lot, and it is when you take all the Realms together, but looking at a single Realm, it really isn't. Does that make sense?"
"I… yes, yes, absolutely."
"That brings us to the central government, which has some similarities to yours, especially on the surface, but there are vital fundamental differences. There is the Prince, of course, the Regency Council, the Council of Ancients, the High Council, and the Judges."
"Sounds like someone way back really liked councils."
"It does seem that way, doesn't it? Now, the Judges are probably the easiest body to understand. There are three groups of them, currently, the Observants, Libra, and the Feathers of Ma'at. Their main duty is to judge and punish Taboo-breakers, although they do other things as well. They're also needed to dismiss or appoint new Ancients. The Ancients mainly function as advisors and aides to the ruler, while also having specific spheres of influence… something like your president's cabinet. They are also the ones that vote on the new ruler, although they are generally guided in that by the Core."
"The core?"
"The Core of the Infinite Realms. You could, ah, in some ways, you could consider it a sort of god, although I don't personally ascribe to that belief. They certainly are intelligent and powerful. But they aren't technically part of the government. Erm. Where was I? The High Council. They're advisors and representatives from different groups in the Ghost Zone, including the Judges and the Ancients. They're allowed to make decisions if the monarch – or in the current case, the Regents – are indisposed, and can propose courses of action and laws to the monarch."
"But they're not the ones who put the laws into effect?"
"No, only the Prince can do that. Or, rather, the Council of Regents. I'm… not entirely clear on the limitations of what laws can be declared. It hasn't been an issue for a long while. The Prince is also the major executive and diplomatic power. He has ultimate command of the thrall armies and is in charge of the Generals. But that isn't really what makes the Prince the Prince."
"What do you mean?" prompted Jennifer after Mar fell silent for a long moment.
"Sorry, just deciding how to say this. The Prince is… in many ways, the Prince is more of a… spiritual leader to us than anything else – and that mean something different in the Ghost Zone, even when it means the same thing. It's… Have you ever heard of the Fisher King?"
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It had been a while since Danny had a normal straight-up ghost fight.
This was not going to be a normal, straight-up ghost fight. There were going to be spectators. Lots and lots of spectators. There was a coliseum on the back of a giant turtle that had been brought over, the ghosts who managed it having sensed a business opportunity. Apparently, that's where they were going to fight.
Hey. If such a nice, purpose-built place to fight was there, they might as well use it, right?
Although, Danny wasn't sure how the managing ghosts had heard about the challenge in the first place. It was a bit weird, actually. But compared to everything else…
Danny cut across one of the grassy squares, avoiding crowds as best he could while everyone was watching him. His skin itched.
Especially the bottoms of his feet, which (again) was weird, because he was wearing his normal hazmat suit and boots (plus the cloak… and the crown), which were usually very comfortable. He glanced down. Paused. Looked down again. Then back.
Little blue flowers were sticking up out of the grass where he had walked. That was a new development.
He crouched down to look at them. They resembled the flowers in his lair, only way smaller. As he prodded the flower, the plant sent up another leafy tendril, which wrapped around one of his fingers.
"My liege? Is everything alright?" asked Fright Knight.
"Those flowers are pretty," said Damien.
"Yeah," said Danny, "they are."
"It is good to see more obvious signs of your connection to the Realms, my liege."
"I… Doesn't the Rite of Ascension have to happen in order to have a… full connection?" asked Danny.
"Oh, yes," said Fright Knight. "But it wouldn't make much sense to go through the trouble of picking a King who couldn't complete the Rite if there wasn't some connection regardless."
Danny decided that he'd worry about this later.
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The walls of the coliseum were painted in bright colors, and patterned awnings shaded the stands, even though there wasn't any sun to be seen. Seeing it would probably be jarring to anyone more familiar with the stripped stone ruins in Rome, but Danny's visits to Elysium and other, similar realms had greatly reduced the shock value.
He stepped out onto the sands of the arena. It shifted somewhat under his heel, but someone had sprayed it with water before the fight, so he thought it would still be alright for kicking off of, if he needed to.
The spectators made him very nervous. He would have to be careful about where he aimed. Maybe stick solely to fisticuffs (heh, fisticuffs), even if that kind of fighting was considered weak compared to more esoteric powers. Although, if it was weak and he won with it, that should put him in an even better light?
… He should have asked more about safety features for the spectators when he learned about the coliseum. Then, maybe he wouldn't be so worried about it.
Although, he'd probably worry a little anyway.
On the other end of the arena stood Aragon, holding a massive axe, dragon amulet nowhere in sight.
Because Danny had eaten it.
How was Aragon expecting to win this, anyway? Or was this just a saving face thing?
At the signal from the referee, both took off into the air.
It would be easy to fail to take this seriously, Danny thought as Aragon charged him. But that could be dangerous. Would be dangerous. A bad mindset to get into.
He zapped Aragon with a ghost ray, intending to— Oh, gosh, oh, no, oh, Ancients that had been too much. Danny had spent too much time recently sparring with either squishy humans against whom he didn't even transform, his more ghostly siblings who weren't that far off in power from him, Dan, and the incredibly powerful Ancients, who he didn't need to hold back against.
Against medium opponents like no-amulet-Aragon, he had gotten out of practice.
Danny landed next to Aragon, who was twitching on the ground. To his (dubious) credit, he had kept a grip on the axe.
"Are you okay?" asked Danny. "Do you need a doctor?"
Aragon swiped weakly at Danny's feet. Danny stepped back, but one of Aragon's claws nicked his leg. Not enough to really hurt, but if Aragon had been the kind of guy to 'resort' to poison, Danny might have been in trouble.
So much for taking the fight seriously. Danny should have been more careful.
As it was, his leg felt a little off, now. More than a little. Oh. That was his leg that had been turning to glass, wasn't it? Had Desiree's illusion of health come off? That would be inconvenient.
Danny took another step back, onto his injured foot, and—
And something seemed to crystalize inside him. His sense of time sharpened to an almost painful degree. There was a rushing sound.
He was back at the start of the duel.
Danny blinked. He'd never traveled that far through time on his own before. Not like that.
Instinctively Danny sought out Clockwork in the audience. His ghostly parent looked inordinately pleased. Even – dare he say it – smug.
The dual, such as it was, went more smoothly the second time around. That is to say, this time, Danny did not half-maim his opponent.
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"Irving," said Sam, calmly, quietly. "Get ready to turn us invisible."
"Uh, why?"
"I'll explain in a bit," said Sam, still keeping her voice low. As soon as she'd noticed one person following them, she'd started noticing more. Many more.
"Is something wrong?" asked Brianna, who was trying to write her number on the back of a napkin.
"Maybe," said Sam. "Do it with the camera flash, okay?" She took a step closer to Wes. "Ready?" She hit the button on her camera, and the bulb flared bright, brighter than its manufacturers had likely intended, which was something she'd have to look into later, but for now—
For now, they were invisible. And so was Brianna.
"When I said make us invisible, I meant just you, me, and Wes," whispered Sam. "Also, good job on the third arm. I don't think Danny figured out how to do that so quickly."
"This is nothing. Back when I was alive at the ol' Nasty, I felt like I needed three hands all the time. Or four. Man, that would have been so useful during rush hour."
He did not let go of a rather shocked looking Brianna. Her friends were beginning to become distressed and yelling about kidnapping.
"Irving," said Sam, "why don't you let Brianna go, and then we can get out of here."
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that."
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"I hear what you're saying," said Pamela, drumming fingernails on the side of her glass, "but it just isn't up to me. We've received a mandate, a very specific mandate, from our constituents regarding the disposition of Amity Park, and we've already negotiated our admittance into the membership of the Infinite Realms. If you try to force the matter at this point, the Prince will most likely simply take Amity Park."
"Now, none of us want a war," said the President. "At least, that was my understanding." He tone was warm, but there was something cold and calculating behind his eyes.
"We don't. When I say take, I mean to say that he would move Amity Park, and the land it sits on, into the Ghost Zone. And then he would shut the door behind us."
"That would be quite a risk for you, wouldn't it? I don't imagine the Ghost Zone is terribly hospitable."
"It isn't," said Pamela. "A risk," she clarified. "Oh, I'm not going to pretend it would be pleasant. But I daresay we'd survive."
"Hm," said the president. "But I'm sure you'd like to avoid that."
"We would. But we have plenty of time to discuss those long-term matters. We have other urgent matters pending, don't we? The prisoners?"
"I am perfectly happy with a prisoner exchange," said the president, raising a hand. "You know this."
"The problem is what comes after," said Pamela. "Even if you discount the crimes they committed against the Ghost Zone and its peoples, what they did in Amity Park – things we have video record of – are horrific."
"Again, I agree," said the president, with a tone and cadence Pamela knew was designed to make her feel like she was the unreasonable one. "As I've said before, we will make sure that any GIW operative or employee returned to us is investigated and tried. We only want the same commitment regarding the prisoners we release into your care."
"Their circumstances are markedly different," said Pamela. "We don't recognize attacking a legitimate military target to be a crime, as such."
"The sovereign borders of my country were violated," said the president, "and, good people or not, American citizens were killed. I can't exactly let that slide."
"Can't you settle for time served?"
The president leaned back, looking disappointed. Pamela did the same.
"Might I offer a suggestion?"
"Please do," said the president.
"I cannot truly speak for my counterparts, but I, at least, would experience some relief at being able to see the prisoners and know that they haven't been converted into some GIW weapon."
"I beg your pardon?"
"That is," said Pamela, sweetly, "how they constructed most of their more powerful weapons. I suppose we assumed you already knew. Again, making no promises, but I suspect that being reassured regarding the wellbeing of the prisoners will make the others relax. Perhaps even in regard to other matters."
"I see," said the president.
Pamela suspected he did. At least in this case. A person didn't get as far as he did in politics without becoming skilled in the game of manipulate and be manipulated.
They both knew they were pulling on strings.
