126. [Video]
[This evening, Priscilla is someplace... well, someplace different. No rooftop, this time, and not her plushy bedroom. Not the ruins that she's made her second home. No, it is the spartan living room of an apartment. Some may recognize it as the former home of the now missing Senji Kiyomasa. Others... well, they'll simply see the simplicity, the punching bag, the metal dog currently curled up as though asleep at her side.]
[She takes a little breath, as though she's preparing for something difficult.]
I've been meaning to come back here for a while. It's always difficult, though, looking old ghosts in the face. And... there are a lot of different ones, here.
For example, this apartment. It was originally owned by.... Nagi Kengamine. Who started the noodle shop below, which he then left to Karako and Senji. And then Karako was gone. And then Senji, too. So that's three. And then five... because of this. [She taps the metal dog.] Built by Matt, who was one of the few people here before me, until he disappeared, too. He left it to Elena. Now she's gone. And from her, it went to Senji... and from Senji to me.
Now Utena has the noodle shop - which is wonderful, by the way, congratulations Utena! ...and I have the apartment. And the dog. His name is Salty, just so you know. [Another tap, and it raises its head... slowly.]
It's a little daunting, though, thinking about all the history in this place. I think I'm getting a little old, but... it does give me some perspective, I guess.
[Priscilla reaches offscreen and picks up a book. She holds it to the camera, revealing its title: The Art of War.]
This was gift, too. [That must have some relevance to what she's about to say, but... well, she's not telling you what it is, apparently, because she puts the book down and takes another breath.]
I've been wondering for a long time whether I should say this, but someone told me it's probably too late not to say things, so I'm just going to say it and see what happens. Okay.
I've noticed that people keep talking about justice and the laws here. It's kind of an... old issue, but it's always been very difficult to address, too. I've always felt that if we tried to behave as though we were an independent nation and create our own systems and structures, it would tell the Anatolian people that we don't consider ourselves part of the city and that we consider ourselves above their laws. But as long as we live here, and eat their food, and walk their streets, we can't truly be separate from them... and there isn't anywhere else to go, aside from Wynn. But it would be the same there, as well.
For me, the idea of policing ourselves was a sort of compromise, I guess. The Anatolians can't control the Scorched just because of the sheer power difference. And while it's a little uncomfortable to give some of us power over others of us, if we let ourselves run rampant until the Twins act... well, think about the fallout from that, considering the destructive nature of some of our number. The Anatolians would hate us even more, and... well. I would suggest asking the protesters from a few months ago what happens when the Twins become unhappy, but it's impossible to do that. The entire crowd of them vanished.
An imperfect system, but it has worked for years. But now there are... stirrings. It troubles me, because we need to... operate under the same set of rules, or at least some kind of universal understanding. I don't know how possible that is, in a city with its own laws and its own ways, inhabited by people who each come from their own set of understandings and rules and... ways. But maybe it's something we ought to work on, at least. If we can. If it's possible.
So we can start here:
Your world - what is justice, there? What systems do you use to ensure it? And... do you think they can be adapted here? How do you suggest bridging the gaps in our different standards, if you have a suggestion?
And what about the Twins, and the people of Anatole? If we change things for ourselves, what do we tell them?
[A little quiet. She bites her bottom lip.]
I think I'll keep the apartment. And the dog, too.
[She takes a little breath, as though she's preparing for something difficult.]
I've been meaning to come back here for a while. It's always difficult, though, looking old ghosts in the face. And... there are a lot of different ones, here.
For example, this apartment. It was originally owned by.... Nagi Kengamine. Who started the noodle shop below, which he then left to Karako and Senji. And then Karako was gone. And then Senji, too. So that's three. And then five... because of this. [She taps the metal dog.] Built by Matt, who was one of the few people here before me, until he disappeared, too. He left it to Elena. Now she's gone. And from her, it went to Senji... and from Senji to me.
Now Utena has the noodle shop - which is wonderful, by the way, congratulations Utena! ...and I have the apartment. And the dog. His name is Salty, just so you know. [Another tap, and it raises its head... slowly.]
It's a little daunting, though, thinking about all the history in this place. I think I'm getting a little old, but... it does give me some perspective, I guess.
[Priscilla reaches offscreen and picks up a book. She holds it to the camera, revealing its title: The Art of War.]
This was gift, too. [That must have some relevance to what she's about to say, but... well, she's not telling you what it is, apparently, because she puts the book down and takes another breath.]
I've been wondering for a long time whether I should say this, but someone told me it's probably too late not to say things, so I'm just going to say it and see what happens. Okay.
I've noticed that people keep talking about justice and the laws here. It's kind of an... old issue, but it's always been very difficult to address, too. I've always felt that if we tried to behave as though we were an independent nation and create our own systems and structures, it would tell the Anatolian people that we don't consider ourselves part of the city and that we consider ourselves above their laws. But as long as we live here, and eat their food, and walk their streets, we can't truly be separate from them... and there isn't anywhere else to go, aside from Wynn. But it would be the same there, as well.
For me, the idea of policing ourselves was a sort of compromise, I guess. The Anatolians can't control the Scorched just because of the sheer power difference. And while it's a little uncomfortable to give some of us power over others of us, if we let ourselves run rampant until the Twins act... well, think about the fallout from that, considering the destructive nature of some of our number. The Anatolians would hate us even more, and... well. I would suggest asking the protesters from a few months ago what happens when the Twins become unhappy, but it's impossible to do that. The entire crowd of them vanished.
An imperfect system, but it has worked for years. But now there are... stirrings. It troubles me, because we need to... operate under the same set of rules, or at least some kind of universal understanding. I don't know how possible that is, in a city with its own laws and its own ways, inhabited by people who each come from their own set of understandings and rules and... ways. But maybe it's something we ought to work on, at least. If we can. If it's possible.
So we can start here:
Your world - what is justice, there? What systems do you use to ensure it? And... do you think they can be adapted here? How do you suggest bridging the gaps in our different standards, if you have a suggestion?
And what about the Twins, and the people of Anatole? If we change things for ourselves, what do we tell them?
[A little quiet. She bites her bottom lip.]
I think I'll keep the apartment. And the dog, too.