Living History by Ben Essex (best motivational books of all time .txt) 📕

Are you actually going to be killing me or arresting me or something? Because if not, this conversation is beginning to get a little existentialist for my taste.’

‘Nonsense. Ben Franklin was a natural existentialist.’

‘Ben Franklin disagrees,’ I said.

‘And no, I’m not going to kill you. Possibly.’

‘That’s very generous of you.’

Outside, a particularly large float drifted by. It depicted George Washington wrestling a lion.

‘I have a better view of things than Greuze,’ said Natalia. ‘I know you and White aren’t working together.’

‘You can be sure of that?’ Stop hurting your own defence!

‘No. But since you have proven exponentially easier to track and catch than White, I severely doubt you’re using the same underground network. Besides, I don’t find you… impossible to trust.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘Even so, I have to assume White has at least tried to recruit you.’

‘Assume away.’

‘We can’t find him, Benjamin,’ Lincoln/Natalia said. It was clearly a difficult admission. ‘He’s too well hidden, he has too many supporters, and short of actually invading Large…’

‘You want me to flush him out of hiding.’

Lincoln shrugged. ‘You’re the closest thing we have to bait.’

‘And am I to assume that you have something to offer me in return, besides the simple courtesy of not killing me.’

‘No, that’s more or less all I’m going to offer you in return.’

‘Ah.’

‘This is not an easy olive branch for me to extend,’ Lincoln said pointedly. ‘And trust me when I say, it’s the absolute best you’re going to get.’

‘Oh, I believe you.’

‘Now obviously you’re about to reject me outright.’

‘Excuse me?’ I blinked. I’d been exactly one heartbeat away from agreeing to the deal then and there.

‘I’ve studied you, Mr. Franklin. Your psyche-profile’s pretty transparent. It makes you very predictable.’

‘I’m… sure it does.’

‘You are not a man happy to betray even his enemies. And I’m sure you don’t enjoy the thought of deceit on our behalf.’

Belatedly, I realised what my problem with the scheme ought to be. ‘And you’re going to kill White. That’ll make me an accessory to murder.’

‘Exactly,’ Lincoln nodded. ‘But think of it this way, Ben-White’s already sponsored more minor attacks. When he’s ready for a major strike, how many innocents do you suppose are going to suffer? To quote one of your contemporaries; “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” ‘

‘Your argument is… compelling. Do I have time to think about it?’

‘Of course,’ Lincoln said.

‘Thank you.’

‘You have eleven seconds.’

I sighed. ‘Fair enough.’

Just for the sake of appearance, I let eight seconds pass. Lincoln actually counted then down. Bitch.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘You’ve got a deal.’

I didn’t go straight back to Daniel’s bar.

Instead I spent the rest of the night wandering around, lost in both thought and in reality. Orr’s roads were rather windy.

The festivities had died down; the streets were empting out. Rubbish lay everywhere-discarded debris and detritus, a carpet of party streamers. I kicked my way along the dirt.

You have to earn your place in history.

The worst part was… I could see White’s point. I could kind of agree with it. And I could see Lincoln’s point, and I could agree with that. And on some fundamental level, I didn’t like either of them.

Stuck in the middle. An undignified place to be.

I tried to get into character. I tried to ask myself what the real Franklin would do… but the truth was, I didn’t have a clue. Perhaps I never had.

Maybe he’d do something wise and epic and principled. Or maybe he’d be stupid and get himself killed. Somehow, living up to his standards didn’t seem so important anymore. I suppose that was probably White’s influence, his words still chipping away in the back of my head. He was just a man, like any other.

Of course he was. But possibly the reality of the man didn’t matter, when I had such better fantasies to imitate.

I tried asking myself what I would do. Still no answers.

Your psyche profile makes you easy to predict…

Maybe I didn’t know exactly what Ben Franklin would do, but I had a good idea of what he wouldn’t.

‘Why do you follow White?’

I was asking Daniel-we were alone in his bar. The little man had let me in at the crack of dawn. Outside, gold rings were ribbing the sky.

Daniel shrugged. ‘Because I think he’s smarter than me.’

‘Can I get a drink?’

Daniel nodded, fetching me a glass of tonic water.

‘A drink with alcohol in it.’

Daniel nodded, fetching me a glass of beer.

‘Thank you.’ The liquid tasted… awful. I sipped again. ‘Is that the only reason?’

‘It’s the best reason,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s what we want from our leaders, isn’t it? For them to be smarter than us.’

I considered. ‘Do you think I’d make a good leader?’

‘Is that a trick question, sir?’ Daniel smiled wryly.

I decided to take that as a yes.

‘Because I can assure you I am very much smarter than you. And to be honest, I don’t have a clue.’ I locked gazes with my drink. ‘I’ve spent my whole life inventing things for other people’s reasons. I’ve never had to deal with the consequences before. I’ve been a tool. Tools don’t have to take responsibility.’

‘Well sir. I don’t think that’s quite true.’

I smiled vaguely. ‘If it was, would you think of me differently Daniel? If I turned out not to be the man you thought, if it had all been a fraud, I’m pretty sure that would constitute an unforgivable lie.’

‘Inasmuch as I understand what you’re saying,’ Daniel said cautiously, ‘I suppose I’d agree.’

Somehow, that wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for.

‘But that’s what’s so good about you and Mr. White, sir.’ Daniel grinned. ‘You’re honest. You’re a bit of a dream.’

‘Oh?’ My glass was drained. I tipped it upside down.

‘Until you came along, everyone had pretty much accepted that the people in charge were always going to be liars and frauds and dirty politicians, cause it’s been that way forever,’ Daniel grinned. ‘But then you showed us ideals weren’t just for fairy tales and like. People would stand up for the truth. Be heroic.’

‘You think I’m heroic?’ I scoffed.

‘The government’s trying to kill you,’ Daniel reasoned. ‘So either you’re a hero or a monster. And since I agree with you, I go for the former.’

‘Hmph.’ I sat in silence for a long moment. ‘Is White still here?’

‘He’s reachable.’

‘Get him for me, Daniel,’ I said. ‘Tell him the real Ben Franklin is ready to talk.’

White and I met down in the basement, over a game of chess.

I wasn’t playing. White was beating himself.

‘I just met with representatives of the Salmon Corp,’ I told him. ‘In exchange for my life, they want me to draw you out into a trap.’

‘And you agreed?’

‘They were heavily armed.’

‘I see,’ White was excessively calm, apparently focused solely on the game board. ‘And yet you’re telling me because…’

‘I don’t trust them to hold up their end of the deal. I think as soon as they get you, they’ll come for me. My only chance is to turn this around on them.’

‘A reasonable supposition,’ White mused. ‘But what makes you think I won’t prove just as untrustworthy?’

‘You at least have a gentleman’s honour.’ I hoped.

White chuckled. ‘Unfortunately, you may be correct,’ he said. ‘I can’t really trust you, you know. I was aware of your meeting-Ben Franklin and Abraham Lincoln walk into a bar, somebody notices. And I’d like to put faith in you, but…who knows? Maybe they told you to tell me all this.’

‘Maybe. All I can do is promise you they didn’t.’

‘Hmmm.’ White stroked his chin-a little half-stubble had developed there. Absently, I realised that the man was trying to grow a beard.

‘Lincoln is a real problem,’ White finally said. ‘His sheer prestige carries enough influence to threaten me. It’s the only real weapon the Corp has.’

‘I suppose you sabotaged all of the other personality Sims?’

White smiled thinly. ‘Let’s just say I have some Easter Eggs waiting in the Corporation, but this one is apparently walking free of my influence, so it will have to be dealt with the old fashioned way. I suppose that’s where you come in.’

‘Just remember, I’m not doing this because I want to join you.’ I said. ‘I’m doing it because it’s necessary.’

‘Good old fashioned pragmatism,’ White nodded. ‘Very well. Trust or not, I suppose we will have to rely on each other all the same.’

‘On Gentlemen’s honour?’

‘Exactly,’ he nodded. ‘On Gentlemen’s honour.’

As far as White was aware, the plan was this:

At eleven-fifteen every night, a train departs Louisian. It travels all the way up to the centre of Little, deposits its passengers on the doorstep of the Salmon Corporation, then winds all the way back down.

There are seven stops. Each stop lasts for a total of three minutes. The train itself is relatively old, and only just in service. Very few people travel on it; its principal purpose is as an artefact of tradition.

I would lure Lincoln onto this train with the promise of capturing White. Lincoln would come with back-up, of course-but I’d warn him not to bring too many people, for fear of giving the game away. At most, half-a-dozen soldiers would suffice.

White would be waiting for Lincoln with twice as many of his own men, and then some.

The trap was elegant.

As far as White was aware.

‘I can give you White.’

This I told to Lincoln/Natalia, sitting in a quiet corner of another empty cafe.

‘He trusts you?’

‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘He wants “Abraham Lincoln” dead, and he’s willing to rely on me to do it.’

Lincoln nodded. ‘Best we could hope for.’

‘I should warn you,’ I said. ‘He’ll be prepared for the possibility I’m double-crossing him.’

‘Of course he will. He’s not a moron.’

‘If he’s expecting a trap, he might just decide not to show up. He wants you dead, but that doesn’t need him-it only needs some henchmen and a bomb.’

‘No. He’s got to do it himself,’ Lincoln said fiercely. ‘It’s all about symbolism_._ If White is seen to kill me in person, righteously and with witnesses, that puts him up as a legend by default. If he does it by proxy it’s cowardly.’

I raised a brow. ‘You know, sometimes I wonder-what the hell kind of publicist are you?’

Lincoln gave a demure shrug. ‘A dangerous one.’

As far as Lincoln was aware, the plan was this:

At eleven-fifteen every night, a train departs Louisian. It travels all the way up to the centre of Little, deposits its passengers on the doorstep of the Salmon Corporation, then winds all the way back down.

There are seven stops. Each stop lasts for a total of three minutes. The train itself is relatively old, and only just in service. Very few people travel on it; its principal purpose is as an artefact of tradition.

Lincoln was to board the train at the third stop, on the border of Large and Little. White would already be on the train, lured by the promise of ambushing Lincoln. He would have only a few men-I’d warned him not to bring too many in the interests of stealth. Lincoln would arrive with a few dozen more. And that would be that.

And the actual plan?

Thanks to my (mis)information, both groups would have the exact same number of soldiers. At the third stop they would clash. Both sides trapped in a narrow space on a fast moving train, with no choice but to fight. Hopefully, they’d kill