Trains, Truth, and Television

 The two of us walked for quite some time in complete silence. The girl walked at a brisk pace in front of me, occasionally glancing back to see me struggling to keep up with all my luggage. And every time, she would simply turn her head around and continue marching forward.

We passed through a residential area. The streets were filled with children running around and bumping into pedestrians on the sidewalk. Either that, or they weren’t looking at where they were going. I had to move out of the way a few times myself. But the girl strutted ahead without a care in the world. Was this a normal occurrence? Maybe it was.

I wanted to ask her about it. Actually, I wanted to ask her about a lot of things. What was life like here? How do people expect me to behave? Why was everyone else on the street glaring at me?

But I couldn't. Shortly after we set off for the university, I had tried, multiple times, to ask her for her name, but in every instance that girl would simply respond with a remark of “Be patient!” and a scoff. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so I elected to keep my mouth shut and my head down. I only had to bear with this for a little while longer anyway.

Eventually, we came to a tunnel-like entrance at the corners of one of the roads, walking down a staircase to an underground train station. I was getting pretty tired by this point, so an opportunity to sit down sounded nice. I noticed how old-fashioned the station was. The conductors and workers looked like they’d come straight out of a period piece you’d scroll by on an obscure streaming service. If I’d woken up here, I’d honestly believe that I’d travelled a hundred years back in time. I could only hope the trains themselves were fast, despite the age of the station. I know a lot of train geeks who’d love this, but I’d gladly trade history and charm for speed and efficiency in a heartbeat.

I set my bags down to find my wallet. Then, for the first time since we started walking, the girl stopped and spoke to me.

“Oh, you don’t need to pay. The trains are all free,” she said.

“Free? For everyone? Wouldn’t that attract freeloaders? How do you even afford that?”

“Miklagardians are an honest and resourceful people.”

That didn’t answer my question.

“As for the drug addicts and ne'er-do-wells,” she chuckled, “we have a saying in this country: ‘Praising a dog makes it happy, but a beating makes it remember.’”

Now that was downright disturbing.

The girl and I boarded the train. I threw my bags in the storage section and collapsed in my seat. My fears did turn out to be true—the train was very slow, but at this point, I was happy to have more time to recover. The girl sat across from me. Her eyes were closed, as if deep in thought. A few minutes later, she opened them again and stared directly at me before speaking.

“Your name, John, is the name of an Apostle, but after centuries of evangelization, it’s now a fairly common name. Caesarea may not be as famous of a name worldwide, but it’s the birthplace of an important saint from the Old Empire. He’s still widely venerated in Miklagardia, so you better be on your best behavior. Don’t bring disgrace to that name!” she said with a hint of pride, wagging her finger in my direction.

Had she been thinking about that for the entire trip? I sure hope not.

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” I said. “Speaking of names, I never got yours.”

The girl froze. Her face flushed bright red. Her eyes were like cannonballs ready to explode out of her orbital sockets.This must have been a more serious social faux pas in Miklagardia than I realized.

“N-Nika M-M-M-Mavorkordatos!” she screamed while flailing her arms. My head hit the back of the seat. She nervously fidgeted while tapping her feet with incredible speed. “Well, I’m t-t-truly s-s-sorry about forgetting, but you see, I was so wrapped up making sure you got to your destination on time because you know you looked so worried about it and well…um…well…a Miklagardian always makes sure to keep her promises. I said I’d help you get around, and I am! Because I’m reliable! So if you need help while you’re here, you can always ask me for anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

I surveyed our surroundings. Nika and I were the only ones in our train car, and it didn’t seem like anyone in the neighboring cars were paying attention to us. That was good. It would make this less risky. I stood up. Nika cautiously watched me as I walked across the aisle, taking a set right next to her. I scooted closer to her. She gave a small yelp. I leaned toward her, leaving only a distance of a couple inches between our faces. Nika was shaking, yet her eyes were wide in anticipation. She closed them. I took one last look to make sure no one would hear.

“Is it true?” I whispered.

Nika opened her eyes, staring at me with her mouth wide open. “Is what true?”

“You know,” I checked to make sure no one was looking before continuing, “that. The rumors. Was Miklagardia really behind those mass shutdowns last year?”

Her eyes lit up, but she restrained herself, keeping a straight face. “The official government response was that Miklagardia had no involvement whatsoever.”

“And what do you think?”

Nika’s mouth transformed from a straight line into a devious smile. “Yes. We did it. We beat the Westerners at their own game, and we’re taking our rightful place back on the world stage. If it’s real, and I hope and pray every day that it is real, Miklagardia will be the most powerful nation on Earth. Miklagardia will be the best country on Earth. No—what am I saying? Miklagardia is the best country in the world!”

“I don’t know about the best, but I can say with certainty that right now, Miklagardia is the most interesting country in the world.”

Normally, I’d chalk a statement like that up to low-brow nationalism, something every idiot says about their own country, but sadly Nika was right.

Thirty years ago Miklagardia overthrew its dictatorship. That is, in theory. In practice, many areas of policy became even stricter than before. The regime change was reminiscent of what you might see in a third-world country. Nevertheless, under the new government, Miklagardia underwent an unprecedented level of technological modernization and economic growth. Pundits dubbed it “The Quiet Miracle”. Economists and politicians argued about how the country proved the success of their own theories. Personally, I think they stole all of their advancements. Even with all its growth, it still pales in comparison with the superpowers of the world, who largely ignored Miklagardia. But after the incidents last year, Miklagardia was the hot topic on everyone’s mind.

Nika had now calmed down, and her cruel grin had softened into a much nicer smile. “You know, if you wanted to know so badly, you could have asked me normally,” she said in a chipper tone. Strange. She sounded like she was in a much better mood.

I sheepishly scratched the back of my head. There was no good reply to that. “Sorry ‘bout that. I figured it was rude to ask about politics.”

“Politics? This isn’t about politics! Or ideology, or anything of the sort! It’s about our motherland. You could ask any man, woman, or child on the street, and they’d all give you the same answer.”

“If it’s such common knowledge here, why is the government denying it?”

“That’s simple. It’s impolite to boast too much.” I have no idea how she said that with a straight face, much less after everything she’s said today.

“For a second, there,” Nika continued, “you almost seemed like Zakhov or Stierlitz.” As if remembering something, she gave a small gasp and moved to another topic. “That’s right! The fiftieth anniversary remaster of Seventeen Moments of Spring is airing soon! You have to watch it. It’s all digitally enhanced to be in color and high-definition! It’s amazing what the editors can do!”

“Is that a movie or something?”

“It’s a television show. You’ve never seen it?”

I shook my head.

“Have you heard of Zakhov? Do you at least know about Stierlitz?” she asked incredulously.

I shook my head again.

“They’re spies! Patriotic heroes who risk their lives fighting the West for their motherland! It’s not like that idiotic Bond trash you Westerners love so much! Instead of silly little gadgets and explosions, they have thought and intelligence and emotion put into them,” Nika passionately explained.

Ouch. I actually liked those movies. Ordinarily, I would have snapped back, but I was more focused on the implication of what Nika said.

“Wait, are you saying I’m a spy?” I asked.

“When your eyes were darting around, it sure looked like it. Like you were afraid of someone, of an enemy, listening in on your secret conversation. It’s a silly thought. Those characters are confident, cool, and collected men. No offense, but you’re too awkward to be like them. I mean, what kind of spy gets lost as soon as he arrives in the country?”

We let out a laugh. Nika must have found it hysterical, but I was laughing due to my nerves. She was closer to the truth than I liked. I had come to Miklagardia as a researcher, but in truth, I really was a Western spy.