Clove made a good argument, and it was both one Alex had expected and one he had heard before. Not necessarily here, or exclusively concerning the current government, or even the colonies of the apocalypse—but rather, in a past life, when working under supervisors and sergeants whose jobs were to oversee the disciplines and objectives that they had not set themselves. They were assigned to track them, to care for them, like a hired gardener is tasked with tending to a plant on someone else’s property. They did not plant the seed—but they were there for the purpose of nurturing it, tending to it—seeing to it that it took shape, flowered into what its original intention had been.
So he got it, understood where she was coming from—but while what she said of the misconception the non-aligned civilians seemed to carry concerning the roles of the Reformist Reps had value, her argument was also built on a perspective that had its own set of blinders—ones that were perhaps of a very similar nature as those of the Infected. Tunnel visioning everything in a way that made sense from one angle, but was equally as unhelpful in the bigger picture. The point was that everyone needed to make adjustments if this was going to work—and that included thinking outside the box. Because that was what compromise meant. They already knew that these two opposing ideals did not see eye to eye based on the fundamentals of their standing positions. So in order to accomplish anything, they’d all need to be willing to set that aside, and come up with new avenues to explore. Not just… keep rehashing the old ones over and over again. That would only lead to more rebellion, more frustration, and zero progress.
Still, he was pleased with how diplomatically Dante had explained the proposition—it was almost good that it had come from him, too, being that he was Uninfected, and of an NWRF alignment. He was holding up his end of the bargain by acting as the middle man between Alex’s quiet plea and Clove’s position of official Representative—directly under the chancellor.
He cleared his throat, nodding calmly. “I think what you’ve described is definitely a crucial thing to take into consideration. We would most definitely need to come up with a…tactic. An approach, when it comes to what the objective of this… so called ‘council’ would be. And how we present it to citizens. Because while we wouldn’t want to make any promises we couldn’t fulfil, it’d also be essential to have a little transparency—because… whatever we do decide, announcing it to the general public, at least in some way, even if it’s filtered—will hold both parties accountable.” He paused briefly, catching both their gazes. “And unfortunately I think that’s pretty imperative here, because so much is at stake and, unquestionably, both sides of this thing have their own prerogative, their own values. The only way to give any… assembly, a hope in hell at success, is there are other eyes watching. Who have been given at least some kind of expectations they can have of us. Because alternatively, if it’s all kept a secret, and we make no promises at all, then neither party will have any reason to hold up their end of the bargain. It’s a lose-lose.”
But there was something else he wanted to address. Something he was fairly sure lied at the heart of getting any ‘dialogue’ to have any kind of footing whatsoever.
“Now, the other thing I’d like to throw out there is…” He looked towards Clove, gaze steady, calm, expression relatively placid. “I understand the position you feel you’re in, in terms of lack of power, and I mean no disrespect whatsoever—truly I don’t. I can at least relate on some level to being in a position of authority where I do not make the rules, only enforce them. Trust me. But… I do think that it’s this issue that may need to be… reconsidered? Slightly?
“Because the reality is…” he took a breath, gaze falling to the table as he tried to find the right words, the right approach. A light shake of his head, before he looked back up. “The NWRF are outnumbered. And not as strong as they would like to be, at the moment. There is a lot they still don’t know—to know fault of their own, of course, as no one knows much of anything at this point.” It was important to him to be as diplomatic as possible. Because regardless of his personal opinion on the NWRF’s position on the Infected, carving them out as enemies was going to get him nowhere. He believed he was in a position to make a difference, and so he had a duty to treat that position with utmost care. Being reckless with it would only result in losing what little influence he had, and then he would have nothing left to offer these people he had so come to care about. These people who looked to him for hope.
“So, I think the truth is… you have more power than you realize? Because they send representatives to do what they can not. They are counting on you to find a way to make… all of this work. Because if they had unlimited power, unlimited numbers—if they were invincible as of now, they’d have incarcerated us all, already. There would be no… patient infiltration of Colonies with ‘mandates’ and ‘representatives’ and a friendly impression to uphold. But the truth is they are vulnerable, still. Just like everyone else. And so they are looking to you, and to Quinn and to all the other reformist aligned individuals here to… make sure this whole thing doesn’t implode. Because it could. And I hate to say it, but I think that… throwing up your hands and saying you have no power, is a cop out. It’s a way to make it easier on yourselves, a way to not have to make the tough decisions.”
He didn’t wait for hackles to rise, or for brows to lower, before clarifying—because he didn’t want to be misunderstood. He truly meant no offence—at least not to these two individuals meeting with him now—and he did believe that anyone in their position would feel the same way. It only made sense. “And I want to be clear—I don’t blame you for that. It’s not a criticism. It’s an… easy default position to take. And I’m sure that’s how it feels to be in your shoes. But the reality is you do have influence. You have a voice. And if you are passionate enough about this New Wave and the… safety of our future, as much as you preach, then it’s your responsibility to take responsibility. And no, it won’t be easy, and yes, you will meet resistance. But the NWRF… what, headquarters? Board of shadowy figures? They’re not here. You are. You are the only ones who are here, seeing what it happening, and have been put in charge of running an entire Colony of real people, under the district of the NWRF. This is no.. hypothetical set of ideals. This is real, and the colony reps would no better than anyone else hiding out in Headquarters.
“So, if anything, they have to listen to you. They don’t know what’s going on here. You do. So if you find a system you think is proving better, safer, more valuable—with a better long term projection for the NWRF objective as a whole… they will listen. They’ll have to. Because they need you. And I think that’s what is easy to forget on your end of things, because maybe they want you to feel like powerless sock puppets. But you aren’t. You wouldn’t be here, were that the case.”
Far from pointless is higher praise than Dante had been anticipating. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Clove had rolled her eyes, said the endeavour was foolish, and left. But then, he didn’t really know Clove. Few of them really knew each other. It seemed to be a common theme among Reformist aligned individuals - a sense of personal privacy and isolation.
Maybe that was a deliberate choice on the part of the recruiters, because isolated individuals don’t ask questions or threaten the status quo. Maybe it was simply that the quiet, stoic types were the people more likely to find themselves agreeing with this culture of intolerance they seem to have built.
Either way, it never sat well with Dante. He preferred to repress those intrusive thoughts, tamping them down when they began to stir; but he knew the more thought he gave it, the more he would question his standpoint. On the one hand, he had already proven to himself that he was capable of great acts of cruelty. If there was a hell, he was going to it anyway, so he might as well commit to that course.
On the other hand, didn’t everyone want redemption? As several people had pointed out after sensing Dante’s apathy towards the situation, he was in a strong position. Uninfected, trusted, NWRF. He could make a difference, should he choose to. And Alex was right, even if the content of his words almost frightened Dante with their frankness: they weren’t puppets. They were here to enact an agenda, but they were also here to listen, to observe, to report back. Any feedback they had would at least be acknowledged and heard, and if enough Colonies gave similar feedback, change wasn’t so hard to believe might be on the horizon.
What it kept coming down to for Dante, was that however much he supported change, he didn’t want to be the one to enact it. He was a coward. Andreya had suggested it. Alex was suggesting it now. Dante wasn’t denying it, either. He felt as though he had been through enough for his lifetime; he’d never wanted to change the world. He became a doctor because he liked the challenge, he liked the precision, and yes, he liked the idea of helping people. Or, he had. But he’d never looked to cure cancer or explore immortality. He didn’t want worldwide renown, although a certain amount of renown had come to him by virtue of his success.
It all seemed very rapidly to be becoming his problem, unfortunately. His apathy towards the Reformist agenda was being read as support for the fight for freedom. His head was stuck in the sand, but people were determinedly tapping his shoulder to draw him out. He was beginning to feel like a middleman - which was what he had offered to be, he supposed - with Clove naturally siding with the NWRF and its mandates, and Alex speaking out for change.
Alex’s words were… not threatening, but certainly dangerous. The NWRF didn’t need to be reminded of how little its power really meant. They only held that power for as long as the population allowed it, and one day there would be an uprising if nothing changed. But, therein lay the rock and the hard place that they lived in. Keep the status quo, and they faced the wrath of most Colonists. Advocate for change, and they risked losing their position, which made the whole endeavour pointless.
It was a thin knife’s edge on which they walked, and Dante knew he lacked the tact to navigate it. Most of the NWRF did; they weren’t a diplomatic lot. They were cold, distant, aloof, and any niceties were seen as manipulation.
“I think,” Dante said, voice smooth and calm - although he spoke quickly, because he was worried that Alex’s words might have ruffled Clove - “Perhaps as an interim step, we ought to look to improving communication with the network of other Colonies. We are not powerless puppets, as you say, Alex, but Clove is right. We can’t just go around making new rules at our own will. If we open up lines with other Colonies and get more of an understanding of the lay of the land in other locations, we would have a better idea of how to proceed.
“If we report back to HQ that Twenty Two is in a state of unrest, they’re more likely to tell us simply to do better. If a dozen Colonies came forward with similar issues, they may be more willing to listen.”
It wouldn’t be a popular idea, on the basis that it seemed like prolonging an already painfully long process. Everyone was sick of the bureaucratic red tape argument, but that didn’t make it any easier to navigate. The Reformists had more power than they assumed individually, but less than most Colonists thought. Change wouldn’t be enacted overnight, and Dante hoped people would understand that. They weren’t going to wake up tomorrow and see that everyone will be contributing to chores, or that infection testing will be purely voluntary.
When power was seized as abruptly as the NWRF had, it was fragile, with shallow roots. Change had to be made in the barest increments, or else the whole thing risked falling.
Donovan's initial point confirmed what Clove had suspected---they wished for some kind of council, and the question of whether it would be totally impotent was beside the point. She could feel her interest waning, the longer he talked. Accountability on both sides didn't matter, because the scales were inherently imbalanced in this situation. Holding the NWRF accountable, as pretty a notion as it sounded, wasn't plausible, for the reason she'd just outlined---the real NWRF was out of their reach. Meaning what he was actually asking was for people like her and Dante, and Quinn as well, to put their own stability in jeopardy by making sacrifices the NWRF wanted them to be uncompromising on. For the sake of the Infected, because they were displeased. It wasn't going to work, she thought. Even if she backed it, Quinn certainly wouldn't. She wasn't sure even she could convince him to---or that she had an inclination towards doing so.
She bit her tongue as he shifted gears, focusing instead on what she'd just been thinking. Confirming every suspicion.
"You're asking me to exploit the vulnerabilities of the party that I support." She spoke flatly, without shielding her anger as it rose, however cool her tone remained. "You're asking us to compromise, and see that as reasonable. But this is what we've chosen---and been chosen---to represent." It was literally in her title, inescapable and undeniable. "What you so generously call a cop out, I call holding my ground, Donovan. Keeping my word. If I'm to break it," she paused, allowing that this wasn't a total impossibility, "then I won't be doing that lightly, or if I think it will have no real impact in the long run."
"And as for the others..." Her thoughts drifted back to Quinn, to think of what should be considered for him personally, though he would never say as much. "The heads of the NWRF may not physically be here, but you should understand that neither is everything that we care about. Those of us who transferred here left behind friends, spouses. Lives. We also are 'real people', and have real people. Some of whom we actually might want to be proud of us, when or if we return."
She'd made promises to Ceres, to Quinn, and to others when she left. Certainly she could change, and make new connections without too much heartache, but she wasn't like the others---what would Ceres think of them, if she heard Quinn allowed himself to be strong-armed, in a situation like this? The NWRF were distant, but at the same time they still had control in multiple ways over them, no matter what Donovan thought, or how easy he considered it should be for their representatives to go rogue out here on this chilly British rock.
But she'd pushed the point far enough. If Donovan didn't understand it even when she'd provided an emotional context, then she'd at least done what she felt she owed to those who clung to the NWRF for support, here. She'd spoken a little for them. Clove herself was more... malleable in her beliefs. Though she was tied to the people she'd met, she was willing to adapt, or seem adaptable was probably more accurate.
Telling herself to be patient, and with the reminder that it was important this meeting seem casual to onlookers, she gave Dante a small incline of her head, honestly quite grateful for his suggestion that there were possibilities if they talked to
"With all that in mind, I would say that if the two of you wish to form a council, and open a forum, or indeed communicate with other Colonies, that approach sounds... promising. It could quell a lot of the worries of the NWRF members here if they see they're not alone in shifting their position---and I think it'd be good for the Infected population as well, to be encouraged to bring their issues out in a more official setting." And maybe it'd prevent them from altering tattoos or plotting to murder all the Reformists in their sleep. Unlikely it'd do all that, but it might be a start. "If there's support voiced from other Colonies, it won't be so daunting to us, to consider altering our approach here."
