There is literally no one I don't hate right now.

[notplaying]

Toby was in the council office. He had the door propped open with stack of his least favorite books, and numerous stacks of paper neatly set out in equal intervals around the table with chairs in front of each. He was at what he counted as being the fifth one. The order was: Council Parameters, Grievances of Property, Grievances of Person,

Comments

[dogbitesman]

"I do like an open door," William said, stepping carefully around the books propping it open and peering at the piles of paper on the desk. "Good morning, councillor."

[dogbitesman]

"You are fairly easy to find," William said, considering the piles. "I could make copies and distribute them," he mused. "Attach a piece of paper with space for opinions and the like. It might fetch in a few responses, what do you say?"

[notplaying]

"Not quite yet," Toby said, "But it's a good idea, when the language is done."

[dogbitesman]

"Fair enough," William said.

He had previously being working on the principle that he would not print anything for the council until they let a reporter in the room for council sessions. But there that issue was, in black and white, so he was willing to help. If only to hurry that particular transparency in government issue along.

"This point about informal meetings ... am I reading this right, and you're basically saying it's okay for council members to run into each other and chat about the business of the moment, but they're not allowed to do it hiding in a broom closet? Er, or New Zealand Consulate, as ours currently appears to be."

[notplaying]

"We're saying if Arthur Castus walked in here and the two of us discussed a sudden septic crisis or our thoughts on any of these pages set out here," Toby said with a gesture of one hand, "we aren't obligated to go get someone to take notes on it. However, we're both council members, and as soon as you accept the responsibility of being a public servant your definition of 'conversation' changes. We don't have daily scheduled meetings, but we're all in and out of here all the time. However, part of that reality is that this door?" he said, pointing to the room's entrance, "Stays open. Always. Unless a situation specifically calls for private deliberation, that door stays open." He was quiet a moment.

"I'm sorry, New Zealand Consulate?"

[dogbitesman]

"The broom cupboard currently appears to be doing double duty as a New Zealand Consulate," William said, noting this down. With a line under the part about the door staying open. "There's a sign."

[notplaying]

Toby pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course there is. A sign makes it official. Why wouldn't there be a New Zealand Consulate and sign in the broom closet. I wonder if the games closet is taken. I can set up an American Embassy. With a sign, of course."

[dogbitesman]

"I take it you weren't here while the IPD office had a Canadian Consulate sign above it?" William said, looking distinctly unimpressed at the memory.

Because that hadn't sat well with him at all.

[notplaying]

"You know what?" Toby said, sighing and running his fingertips along his forehead, "I don't remember. I've been here so long, now, I guess I've let some details go. What the hell use is a consulate when this place strips your nationality of all meaning except the personal? Consulate just becomes another word for support group," he muttered. "God I wish I had a drink."

[dogbitesman]

"A word for support group that also has unfortunate expectations about extraterritoriality attached to it," William said, as he wrote this down.

All of it. Because he was who he was.

"But I think that's exactly what this broom cupboard business is about. An attempt at a reminder of home. In the, er, compound broom cupboard."

[notplaying]

"Well, as long as people can still get to the brooms, I don't see any harm in it," Toby said, shrugging. "I hope it helps."

[dogbitesman]

"There probably isn't any," William said, making another note in case he was very much short of space and needed to run COUNCILLOR CLEARS CUPBOARD CONSULATE.

"...and it might be the place for him to enquire about dual citizenship, I suppose," he said, reading further. "What is this, here, about citizenship, five months?"

[notplaying]

"Citizenship is a stand in word, albeit a particularly loaded one. It's a question of what should it take for one to be able to run for office. No one here is a citizen by choice, it's not something to be earned the way it is in America, where a lot of emphasis is put on being a citizen. But as another way of trimming the heard of would be council members, of setting a bar that must be met to be elected, we kicked around the idea of citizenship. Ultimately, given the situation here, it's too flawed and too restricted. Citizenship wouldn't affect anything but your ability to run for office, and it should stand for more than that. Everyone who arrives here is a citizen, and is afforded the same rights. This works. Now. Personally, I think citizenship does exist here, and one becomes a citizen when they choose to become a member of this society. Not meaning you have ot join the kitchen crew, but meaning you're not dissenting, not striving to upset the community. I know that sounds... lax, like it's not really anything, but we

[dogbitesman]

"I've known one or two individuals who I think would have done that, had they remained here," William commented as he wrote. "But it is loaded, as you say. How do you define involvement, or participation in society? Is secession the default, or does it only apply if you actively select it?"

This was more William thinking over things than an active line of questioning; if it were, he would have only asked one question, because you were very lucky if you found someone who would or could answer two at once.*

*At the other end of the scale was Lord Vetinari, who could fail to answer as many as a dozen questions with a single statement. More, since the invention of the clacks.

[notplaying]

"Well, so far involvement is the default. The only examples we've had of people rejecting the betterment or at least maintenance of the community's general prosperity were extreme and violent. One is jailed indefinitely and the other took his own life. Secession would have to be an active choice, a... pointed decision. The captain of that ship, the Serenity? He's as close as we have to someone actively removing themselves from what I suppose constitutes citizenry, but he helps during times of crisis, he presents himself at elections if he's summoned, he isn't a detriment. He's just antisocial. It's a line we haven't had to watch get crossed yet and so it's one we probably can't set down, which is problematic in its own right, but there you have it. So much of this is new ground." He tapped his fingers on the page.

"Sometimes I can't believe I'm still here."

[dogbitesman]

William stared at his notebook while he thought about that last sentence. "No, sometimes I can't, either. And then I look up and here I am."

He coughed, then said, "Er, anyway. What's this about non-reactive legislation?"