NOW & FOREVER, I AM YOUR KING

This isn’t right. What do I even say? I remember when my father passed, the General said something along the lines of, ‘All things must end’. I can’t say that. For one thing, my father didn’t take the entire Kingdom to his grave. That ‘All things’ was only ever meant to encompass the one life at a time.

Is this my fault? I’m the man at the helm, so it must be. It’s still unfair. I did everything right. I’ve given my people every basic necessity I could have. I cannot possibly be held accountable for personal greed. ‘Oh, I want exotic meats; I want to have a say in how my land is governed; I want to name a street after my deceased parrot.’ Truly, the burden of an ever demanding public was thrust upon me.

Maybe I can use my final address to blame my subjects for what’s coming. It hasn’t been done before but I find myself with very little to lose. Take away all that time spent on riot control and I’d have had devised a survival strategy by now. Yes, the Kingdom’s petty in-fighting is the sole reason why I was not able to save us from complete destruction. As a collective, let us ignore my own ignorance about a looming threat from a distant land with a ruler far more intelligent than I, for this was all the fault of the public. Really try to make these ingrates feel guilty about their own imminent destruction.

I can’t say, ‘All things must end’. Especially when this particular thing has been around for thousands of years. A man dies at 86, you say that that is how it is meant to be. A man dies at 30, you declare it tragic but know that it was always in the realm of possibility. But if a man dies at 400, you must have spent the last 300 years thinking he was immortal.

I don’t want to be remembered as ‘The Last King’. As far as monikers bestowed upon royalty go, it does sound impressive for sure, but it also carries with it, an immense embarrassment. A priceless heirloom is handed down generations, surviving times’ arrow and carrying with it more significance with each owner it outlived, till one day, it breaks. It does not matter how it breaks. It does not matter whether it was preventable or not. All that matters is that it broke in your possession. Years of experience lost under your watch.

I survived pneumonia about a month ago. I should have let it take me away. Then the burden of being the final ruler of a crumbling kingdom would go to my nine year old daughter. No one in their right minds would fault a child for losing control of an entire kingdom. I wonder if future historians will ever learn of the internal turmoil that occurred in the few weeks preceding the collapse of one of the longest lasting civilizations of all time. I feel that my generals have done a fairly fine job of keeping details of any uprising under wraps. For an outsider, I hope our fall comes as a surprise.

Having had my military ranks reduced to a triple digit number, I have lost all hope in salvaging the land. Now my main concern is saving face in the eyes of history.

There are children in school, reading about the glory days from hundreds of years ago, and they may think that in a century or so their names may be appended to those books. Sadly, that will never happen. Our enemy has announced that they will not be taking any prisoners. All will perish. Even the children. All things must end.

No, I shouldn’t refer to the children as ‘things’ in a speech, the people won’t like it. Not that the threat to their children is even real. I figure that making up lies about the brutality of our enemies can go one of two ways. One; our army sees these forces as savages and are renewed with enough vigor to pull off a heroic victory. Two; I frighten our men too much and they lay down their weapons on the battlefield and shout, ‘make it quick, please’.

It’s not exactly a lie that can even be readily disproved. If the children are killed, I was their honest ruler who warned them of our enemy’s brutal nature. If they aren’t, well, they might have changed their minds. The parents will count themselves lucky, that is all. None of them would ever say, ‘Hey, why haven’t you killed young Tim like my King promised?’

That one lie however, has got me thinking about all the others I have told during my reign. I cannot claim to be the most honest of rulers. That title goes to my grandfather – a man who was painfully transparent. The only king to ever release a full video of his own colonoscopy to justify a brief absence.

I, on the other hand, have had to constantly reassure my people that things were not as bad as they seemed. Personally, I’ve panicked in the face of all sorts of obstacles, ranging from a zit on my face before a town gathering to….well, the situation I’m in right now is as dire as it gets.

There was a six month period where scarecrows would be stolen and placed outside bird sanctuaries. We blamed it on the wind. Census takers say that 76% of people bought that admittedly lazy explanation. Good news for us as we didn’t have to actually find out who was responsible. The bad news was of course that that meant less than a quarter of our population had any semblance of sense. Maybe I can mention this anecdote in my speech when I start blaming them for our demise.

A king’s final address is meant to be hopeful. As far as I know, every single one has been delivered with a certain tone and gravitas. Their advanced age really gave them the edge in that department. There’s something about an aged, raspy voice that adds weight to a speech. Also, every one of my predecessors were heavy smokers, so that may have helped in adding huskiness to their voices. Unfortunately, cigarettes started causing lung diseases in the year I was born, so I refrained. Life truly stacked the cards against me.

This is an absolute disaster. But maybe, just maybe, I can salvage something. Nothing that matters, but perhaps my pride? I could claim to be a double-agent. This mess is not down to my incompetence, it’s my malicious brilliance.

But what if our enemy disavows me? That could be mortifying. If I go that route and people discover it to be a lie, I’d be both incompetent and a fool.

Between the constant meetings and deliberations, I have found time to wonder if any of my ancestors ever foresaw the good days ending. Life wasn’t easy for them either, though. It never is for a king. But none of them faced complete annihilation. That of course makes my final address all the more unusual. I will be the only one present who knows that it is a final address. I cannot say goodbye for in this moment, to them, I will be their king for years to come.

Either this is the most important speech that I will ever give, or the most meaningless. The General has given me half an hour. I can already hear a crowd – from what remains of the populace – gathering outside.

I should practice.

Good Afternoon

Yes. Maintain that it is a good afternoon. The bombings this morning were just a mild distraction.

I look out here and I see faces that I have been proud to protect.

Must remember to actually look at them when I say that.

And I will keep protecting you. For we are bonded by more than a common birthplace. We are bonded by a shared hope in the face of adversity. That is something that these streets have ingrained in us.

Yeah, that’s the kind of garbage they love. I should mention more local establishments. What was that burger place on 15^th street? Must ask the general before I go out there.

[After naming all those places and what value they had] We cannot lose these. Look to your children. They will be slaughtered.

How do I say that without sounding crass? Do I want to scare the children too? I don’t see what benefits that has. Maybe I should just move on to the threat without getting into specifics. Definitely have to throw in the term ‘way of life’, like it means something. If these people actually had a ‘way of life’, it’d just be complaining about things that don’t even matter.

The enemy are banging on our gates. Hell bent on taking what we love away from us. I swear to you that I will not allow that to happen. It is my duty and privilege by blood to fight for you.

Here’s where I should pepper in a false historic fact or statistic. People love when they hear a comforting lie spoken factually. When will they learn? If something jives with your world-view, it’s probably bullshit.

I am the third of my name to take the throne.

That’s true.

Both of my namesakes have been drawn against formidable, bloodthirsty foes. Both of my namesakes have saved this wonderful land. I choose to do the same.

I choose to do the same? Where am I going with this?

We will not fight to the death. We will not have to. We may be smaller in number, but we are stronger. We are more driven. We know the life we will lead when our enemies are vanquished. We have flourished for centuries and we will continue to do so. I will not allow our destruction, nor will fate. For now and forever, I am your king.

I thought I was going to shame these fools, where have I taken this speech? I’m starting to feel a little bit hopeful. Now and forever, I am your king. As a kingdom, we have been around forever. We haven’t lost yet, why would we start now? When the chips are down, surely that is when we pull through. Now and forever, I am your king. What an awe-inspiring line.

But.

Is it though? After taking a breath, the line may just work on kings. What would common folk like? Now and forever….I am your king. I do like that line together. I should try and still say those words but space them out.

For now and forever. I….something something….will be your king.

Maybe it was just for me. I am the only one aware of our impending dismantling so I am the only one who needs reassurance. What do the people need? Exotic meats, a street called Petey Parrot, another riot.

I fondly recall that short period where you attempted to usurp me. Good times. We laugh now but I genuinely wanted to order the firing squad on you delinquents. But I did not. For I am a true and noble king, and also my father disbanded the firing squad during his tenure. Yet another job lost to developments in artificial intelligence. Now the robots may do a quick and efficient job, but I didn’t just want to see you die, I wanted you to suffer.

On second thoughts, I should say that’s what the enemy have been saying.

The beasts at our door have said that they will not use their robot death squad on us. For it would be far too quick. They want us to suffer! Well, THEY will be the one’s suffering at the hands of robots. Our robots!

Wait, not sure that tracks. They won’t suffer by our robots, the whole point of them is to avoid inhumane slaughter.

I’m getting sidetracked by the death robots. I watched my father get pestered by these people. My mother would say, ‘they’ll be the end of you.’ Then he’d laugh, look at me and say, ‘and they will end each and every one of us, one by one.’  He said that with pride. It’s a pride I felt as well. Upon taking the helm, it was a pride I immediately lost. Every moment, whether waking or non-waking, was disturbed by one unhappy citizen after the next. But I knew that was in store for me. I have never known a life uninterrupted by a besieged blacksmith, or a suburban parent demanding to speak to the manager of a restaurant that somehow wound up knocking at my door.

The last three days have been a stark contrast to the life I’ve led. With the decimation of a sizable portion of my people, my halls have been empty, my doorbell un-rung, and my head un-ached It’s been the life I craved once I had the life I previously craved. I don’t care for the people. But I do feel empty without them.

Do I desire a middle ground between harassed and unbothered? Or am I just doomed to be discontent no matter the situation? It could be that this bitter end may be an escape from an unsatisfying life.

Suddenly, I hear the doomsday alarm ringing.

The only time I had ever heard it before was on my first day, the general took me to the alarm, turned it on and told me that should the palace be facing immediate and catastrophic disaster from which there is little hope of survival, I will hear this sound. Laughed it off at the time. I wonder how immediate ‘immediate’ means. One thing is certain. I won’t have time to address my constituents for a final time. But here we are. All gathered together, ready to be wiped out. Well, I’m ready. For the people, it’ll be a little surprise. But, I suppose this is how fate has willed it to be. When we go, I wonder what….

“Sir. It’s time,” says a croaky voice from behind me. The General apparently has a plan. Knew he’d pull through. My father’s last gift to me.

“A ballistic missile is on its way. We need to get into the bunker immediately.”
“Right. And how big is this bunker?” I ask. I’ve got the sneaking suspicion that this means of survival may be a tad bit exclusive.

“It is the very same bunker I showed to you on your first day in charge.”
“Right. That doesn’t answer my question.”
“20 average sized people can live in relative comfort.”

Abandon my people? What kind of king would do that? Well, I hate these people. But, what happens post-survival? Live in a bunker for the next 5 years, wait for the invasion to slow down, assume a new identity, and assimilate to the new reign, live a low-key life. That’s a lot of work. And then what?

I can never go back to the life to which I grew accustomed. The life for which I was born. If I stay I can avoid having to adapt to new circumstances and still be remembered as a man who left none behind. The captain who went down with his ship.

“No. You go ahead without me. My fate will be the same as theirs.”
“Very well, sir,” he says curtly and promptly turns on his heels to leave.

I think I may be experiencing immediate regret. As king I ought to have been more decisive. “Sorry General, did you say something?” He’ll probably ask me again if he turns around.

“No sir, goodbye.”
“How many people are going to be in the bunker.”
“Myself, your family, the rest of your cabinet, and their families.”
“My family?”
“We will take good care of them, sir.”

It comes as a bit of a surprise to me that the General has yet to beg me to live. Yes, it is my decision to stay out here, but I was hoping for a genuine reaction from my military chief. I should live just out of spite. Why is this old crone so quick to accept step-father duties? Smarmy bastard. But no, I have made a decision. The King must go down with his Kingdom. Or does that apply only to ships?

One can assume that when the first missile appears, the shrieks will begin. Two years ago I had decided against making my room sound-proof. Truly an awful decision.

What shall my last act in my final seconds as King be? I could read a book. If my burnt up corpse is ever found holding one, I could go down as an intellectual ruler. Though, the book probably wouldn’t survive the fire, so, never mind. Oh, the cook left a meal for me. It isn’t altogether terrible to lose one’s kingdom if one has a full belly. What have they made? Ah, elk. How fancy. Listened to my people’s demands and all I got was an exotic last meal.