Sulemain
Banned
My third day in Constantinople finds me with plenty of free time on my hands, at least until the evening. I find myself watching a march; a quick investigation reveals they are the New Turks, an Anti-Soviet, Anti-Greek, Ultranationalist, Ultrareligous group of Turks. They care the flag of the old Empire, and pictures of the last Emperor. The City Police stand by, also watching, but they look ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. They are tough looking men and women, although someone tells me that they are weak children compared to the Gendarmerie. A collective shudder runs through watching crowd, and I wonder if the Ender Riots were put down even more harshly then I was told.
I leave, not wishing to insult my brain listening to the mindless, virulent nationalism on display, and I find myself at the Museum of The Sea, located on the site of the old Naval Academy. I spend a couple of hours looking at maritime artefacts from across the world, including the famous Antikythera Mechcanism, on loan from the Greek National History Museum and, from the FDRG, the flag of the Naval Infantry Brigade which sort so valiantly in that country’s civil war. While the artefacts and displays at the museum are interesting and evocative, there is a sense of the ramshackle to the whole affair; few of the items here, outside a few old Ottoman and Byzantine relic, actually belong to the museum on a moment basis. I leave, pondering the museum and how it, in many ways, speaks for the Global Community itself.
As I leave the museum, I find myself wandering the city, visiting the magnificent Topkapı Palace, which, surprisingly, contains on its grounds the only Protestant Church in the city, the old Hagia Irene, or, to give it’s English name, the Church of Holy Peace. A quick investigation reveals that the Church serves all Protestants in the city; mostly GC workers or diplomats, but also a few locals. The Caretaker, a volunteer who asked to remain anonymous, tells me that in a city as diverse as the Queen of Cities, another sect is not surprising. With a wry grin, he tells me that if asked, he find no trouble in stating his religious infinity; there are not enough Protestants to be prejudiced against.
At last I find myself at my interview, this time at the Museum of Vulnerable Culture, a tall, proud building by the waterfront. It is in the evening, and the effects of lunch are starting to where off. Nata Lee Hershlag was born in Jerusalem, another Global Community City, albeit one surround by the UAR. She has been the Director of the Museum for 3 years, a meteoric rise attributed to her fierce intellect and determination. She greets me with a firm handshake and in fluent English. I make my introductions, and she does the same, before offering a glass of wine, which I gracefully accept. She pours herself one also. Much to my pleasant surprise, he accent is of the Home Counties.
I ask her about this, and she smiles
“My tutor was an English-lady. My parents were lucky they could afford her”.
I smile at her smile, and her reply.
I ask her about her work, and what it means to be part of the Global Community on a permanent basis.
“It’s amazing, it’s a chance to be part of something greater than a mere state, to be part of a peaceful, international organisation, one made up of all humanity. With the exception of the Soviets, but since their expulsion, they haven’t been in a hurry to get back in. But even the 4th Way powers are in now. If someone had said that before the War, they’d have been laughed at.”
I nod in thoughtful agreement, and ask her about the role of the Museum, its history, operations and future.
“To answer your questions in no particular order, the Museum was founded in the aftermath of the Great War, in response, to, amongst other things, Leuven being destroyed by the Germans. Since then, we’ve collected artefacts from the world. The regalia of the Hungarian Monarchy, the original Constitution of May 3, 1791, a Gutenburg Bible, to name but three. And this is without counting the ongoing recovery operation in the Chinese wastes. You know, it’s ironic. At the time, many in the Global Community castigated the KMT for taking so many Chinese relics with them to Taipei; now no one mentions that, and we are frequent in our praise of them”.
I enquire as to the Museum’s operation in the Chinese Wastes.
“We managed to uncover several small golden statues of the Buddha from an underground vault last week. You’re the first non-permanent Community member to know that. It took months to track them down, and weeks before we gained the trust of the local survivor community so they would help us. And even longer before we got their permission to take the artefacts out. We’re archaeologists, not robbers. Heavily armed archaeologists with parachute training, mind, but we’re motivated by a love of history, not wealth”.
We chant for a while about various aspects of working at the museum, including a mention of "the terrible death jade of the North", whatever that is, and then she asks, unexpectedly
“It’s getting late. Do you want to join me for dinner?”
She has a Look in her eyes. Why should I say no?
I leave, not wishing to insult my brain listening to the mindless, virulent nationalism on display, and I find myself at the Museum of The Sea, located on the site of the old Naval Academy. I spend a couple of hours looking at maritime artefacts from across the world, including the famous Antikythera Mechcanism, on loan from the Greek National History Museum and, from the FDRG, the flag of the Naval Infantry Brigade which sort so valiantly in that country’s civil war. While the artefacts and displays at the museum are interesting and evocative, there is a sense of the ramshackle to the whole affair; few of the items here, outside a few old Ottoman and Byzantine relic, actually belong to the museum on a moment basis. I leave, pondering the museum and how it, in many ways, speaks for the Global Community itself.
As I leave the museum, I find myself wandering the city, visiting the magnificent Topkapı Palace, which, surprisingly, contains on its grounds the only Protestant Church in the city, the old Hagia Irene, or, to give it’s English name, the Church of Holy Peace. A quick investigation reveals that the Church serves all Protestants in the city; mostly GC workers or diplomats, but also a few locals. The Caretaker, a volunteer who asked to remain anonymous, tells me that in a city as diverse as the Queen of Cities, another sect is not surprising. With a wry grin, he tells me that if asked, he find no trouble in stating his religious infinity; there are not enough Protestants to be prejudiced against.
At last I find myself at my interview, this time at the Museum of Vulnerable Culture, a tall, proud building by the waterfront. It is in the evening, and the effects of lunch are starting to where off. Nata Lee Hershlag was born in Jerusalem, another Global Community City, albeit one surround by the UAR. She has been the Director of the Museum for 3 years, a meteoric rise attributed to her fierce intellect and determination. She greets me with a firm handshake and in fluent English. I make my introductions, and she does the same, before offering a glass of wine, which I gracefully accept. She pours herself one also. Much to my pleasant surprise, he accent is of the Home Counties.
I ask her about this, and she smiles
“My tutor was an English-lady. My parents were lucky they could afford her”.
I smile at her smile, and her reply.
I ask her about her work, and what it means to be part of the Global Community on a permanent basis.
“It’s amazing, it’s a chance to be part of something greater than a mere state, to be part of a peaceful, international organisation, one made up of all humanity. With the exception of the Soviets, but since their expulsion, they haven’t been in a hurry to get back in. But even the 4th Way powers are in now. If someone had said that before the War, they’d have been laughed at.”
I nod in thoughtful agreement, and ask her about the role of the Museum, its history, operations and future.
“To answer your questions in no particular order, the Museum was founded in the aftermath of the Great War, in response, to, amongst other things, Leuven being destroyed by the Germans. Since then, we’ve collected artefacts from the world. The regalia of the Hungarian Monarchy, the original Constitution of May 3, 1791, a Gutenburg Bible, to name but three. And this is without counting the ongoing recovery operation in the Chinese wastes. You know, it’s ironic. At the time, many in the Global Community castigated the KMT for taking so many Chinese relics with them to Taipei; now no one mentions that, and we are frequent in our praise of them”.
I enquire as to the Museum’s operation in the Chinese Wastes.
“We managed to uncover several small golden statues of the Buddha from an underground vault last week. You’re the first non-permanent Community member to know that. It took months to track them down, and weeks before we gained the trust of the local survivor community so they would help us. And even longer before we got their permission to take the artefacts out. We’re archaeologists, not robbers. Heavily armed archaeologists with parachute training, mind, but we’re motivated by a love of history, not wealth”.
We chant for a while about various aspects of working at the museum, including a mention of "the terrible death jade of the North", whatever that is, and then she asks, unexpectedly
“It’s getting late. Do you want to join me for dinner?”
She has a Look in her eyes. Why should I say no?
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). I'd say it can't really be as _lethal_ for it's own citizens as Stalin's USSR was, anyway: that rate of democide probably wasn't sustainable, unless they've also found a way to seriously boost the birth rate (rather a problem in the Warsaw Pact nations OTL)
