Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is
Chapter 28 The Birth of WMNN, The Makarovian News Network
Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)
Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex
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After a night of celebrating Olek's and Helga's marriage, Prince Eric suggests the announcement go out on WMNN! By way of the Internet.
The Birth of WMNN, The Makarovian News Network
The club's DJ had said it would become even more crowded. It looked crowded to me now. The Grotto had room to spare, but I wouldn't want to be the one securing that many people. I am no Geologist, but I wondered how it formed. The one they found underground in Stryia was a bubble that formed and solidified eons ago. That one was obvious by the near-perfect round shape. This one wasn't that round. Where the dancefloor and bars were in the widest and tallest of the cave, it was more like an oval. The stalactites said it had been there millions of years ago. Remember, stalactites stick "tight" to the roof of the cave. Stalagmites stick up from the floor of the cavern. Dimitri and Dan had filled the floor with dirt and sand to make it level for the dancefloor. They weren't on any of the power grids, but probably will be in the future. They had generators that needed fuel and added to the cost. I wasn't sure how many watts or whatever was needed, but the lights and I mean all of them; the ones that allowed us to see and the ones for the dancefloor. The sounds from kept us dancing needed power and the video screens...I never saw an extension cord, but the blenders, ice crusher...all required power. They must do well because there were several bartenders now and they were very busy. All of them looked like they knew what they were doing as drinks were rapidly handed over. They had gotten used to who they were working with as they dodged and swerved to avoid collisions, it almost seemed like a dance behind the bar.
Peter and I danced again, but not the No Touchy, No Feely dance. Mario and Mom danced, but you could tell the style of dance tonight was not what Mario or Mom preferred. Mario had lived out in the world in his twenties and thirties. There were a lot of good songs in the eighties and nineties. He had to go to a night club sometime.
Grandma danced with me, Peter, and Olek. Olek did ease up with his caution about Helga and they danced a few times. It took a few minutes for Andreea to relax and be herself. We weren't scary, but Makarovians did put us in a category they set us apart. Remember how hard I had to push to get any of the staff at the palace to use my name and not call me by my title?
Peter got through to Andreea when he asked her what she was going to do if she and Rolph couldn't get divorced again. At first, she was mortified that we knew. Peter's grin told her he was teasing her. I asked about their girls and soon it all laughter from Andreea and Rolph. We didn't care what they did or didn't do.
Grandma smiled when she heard what they did, "Why not? Love is a game we all like to play. Good for you." She said to Rolph and Andreea.
I began to see Andreea is one of the few modern women of the twenty-first century. She had been sent by her parents to live with her grandparents a few winters in Ukraine. She had access to things other Makarovians didn't. But! Instead of remaining there, she was a loyal Makarovian. Then she met Rolph, and the rest is history.
A couple of hours passed when Helga asked to be excused for the Ladies Room. The ones last year were barely bigger than a port-a-potty. You know, one of those big blue boxes? Everyone has seen them. Now, they had real bathrooms! Tile, hot and cold running water, sinks, mirrors...everything people needed to "freshen up."
I don't know what anyone passed along, but...somehow every woman in the world knows to go in packs to the Ladies Room. Helga got up and Grandma, Mom, and Andreea needed to go, too. Guys don't normally do that unless there's a perceived threat or they wanted something in private. Peter and I didn't hide what we did, but we never just went together. In the United States, most guys didn't dare look at the guy in the stall next to him. They'd be labeled one of us! Gay! God forbid! Then I theorized the men that didn't want you to see, didn't have that much to show. Guys with eight inches or more wanted you to look and be envious; gay, bisexual, or straight didn't matter. It's just my theory; I haven't had the time or free access to any Men's Room and looked at dicks to verify anything. It's my theory; no one else's.
Yes, I scared another rabbit from its hole. Just one more thing, so I'll pursue it. How does a toddler go from "Everybody Poops" where we teach them how to do something every living creature does? Why does it become something we do in private spaces where no one can see or know what we were doing? How did it become dirty and nasty? It all stinks; even for people who were royalty. Okay, I'll let that rabbit go now.
As they left, all the men stood up as it the proper thing to do. This group of Makarovian men was all gentlemen. You had to be in international affairs, or we'd make a bad impression. I didn't know it at first, but Olek was briefed before meeting a leader of a country. Someone to tell him what was and wasn't appropriate, if anyone knew.
Olek was grinning at Peter, "I'm so glad I made you go to Northeastern."
"You made me?" Peter's eyes grew wider, "I seem to remember that a little differently." He looked me, "I practically begged him for months to allow me to go!" The smiles on their faces told me it was all in fun.
I shrugged, "I'm just glad he came."
Olek chuckled, "I am simply having trouble believing this is the same Peter. You've really changed for the better."
I could see why. I know Peter and Olek got along one on one positively as brothers and friends.
I could see the confidence in Peter.
Olek leaned forward and smiled at me, "You've been there every time. I give you credit this change."
"He's always been Peter, Olek," I said.
"You brought him out," Olek said. "You saw his condition and recommended the correct medical treatment. When I fainted in Boston, you accessed me physically and diagnosed what happened." He gestured with his hands telling me he had come to a conclusion, "You spoke to Helga with knowledge of what was happening. Why is that?"
I nodded and told Olek what I told Peter and why I had left medicine behind.
Olek listened, nodding as began to understand.
Mario was the one to say anything. His expression was more than pity or even sympathy, "How long did you go to school for medicine?"
"I don't have a degree, I guess about three or four years," I admitted. "I volunteered when I was in high school. I was sixteen and turned seventeen after a month into the school year." I grinned remembering. "You know my family loves rules," I said to Peter. "We don't lie. You could start first grade at five if you turned six in September. My birthday is in October and that wasn't lied about. I started school at six and turned seven." They needed to know the age to understand that. "I worked all summer at the hospital and fell in love." I chuckled at Olek's surprised look, "I was told by one of the doctors there about a scholastic program with college credits medicine. I could do it at eighteen. My junior year was all blood pressures, temperatures, pulse, and emptying Foley bags of urine." I chuckled at the turned-up lip of Olek. "No, that wasn't glamorous. I was teamed up with other students and watched carefully that year. John Donkervoet was like Grandma, but..." I sought a word, "more. You know how we are with feelings." I said looking at Alec who was also nodding with a smile. "The Medical University is an educational hospital. I signed up under Dr. Donkervoet who became my mentor. He is a psychiatrist. Then Tony was killed, and my mother was diagnosed," I shook my head. "It was almost like death was following me. I took anatomy courses, chemistry, and biochemistry. I was going to get my premedical degree and..." I shrugged, "medicine's fascination faded when my mother got sick. I had to get away from it."
There were more than just "feelings" involved in Psychiatry. No one just feels happy or sad. There is emotional chaos was with happiness and sadness. We all feel sad at times, but other emotions like anger, resentment, betrayal, and loss along with thoughts that gave you those feelings which affected your mind. Jealousy and rage caused chemicals to be released in your brain. Grandma knew that just holding the anger, resentment and all the others kept inside that mood coming. She wasn't a doctor but saw the long-term effects on people. Her rule about telling someone the truth about those thoughts helped to smooth out the chaos and it became a symphony of thoughts with emotions. There were also cases of neurochemical imbalance caused by mental illness,
"I understand," Mario said suspecting something, "but you have a talent for it. There is a passion for it I see in your face and hear in your voice when talking about it. Alla has almost no science in her background. She was a model and doesn't have any sort of degree in medical science. She learned a lot because it was needed."
"Mom's brilliant!" I argued a bit defensively.
Mario was nodding now and using his hands to tell me to calm down, "She is; without any doubt." He looked at Olek, "She ran a country after your father died and until you could ascend to the throne." Olek nodded, so Mario went on. "She is a Queen. She also used that position to get things done for Makarovia, medically." Mom apparently spoke to Mario about many things for him to say this. "She will still be Queen but will be a past king's wife." He frowned a little, "I can't remember the word in English for that at the moment. I don't want her to step down. She loves Makarovia and what she can do for the people. She has mentioned stepping back."
"Dowager is the word," I said as Mario nodded remembering. I felt an icy dagger of panic in my heart, "I don't want to be a doctor, nurse, or a nursing-practitioner." I waved at Olek and said, "I promised Olek to help with the safe processing and storage of the uranium. There is no school for Medicine here. It would take me away longer for my residency..."
Mario was again nodding and doing the calm down gesture.
Olek knew what Mario was talking about. "If I understand you," Olek said to Mario and then looked me, "you don't have to be. When Alla goes to a country to ask for assistance, she researches what can or can't be done. You already know some medicine."
"He knows a lot of medicine," Peter corrected.
"That's textbook knowledge!" I said.
"So?" Olek asked. "You still come out ahead. Do you keep up with medical trends?"
In the middle of feeling pressure, I was impressed with Olek's use of English. It was probably because we used it so much now. "I do. It's kind of hard not to when something new comes out." I shrugged, "I want to see how it works."
Olek smiled, "Can't you use knowledge like that in this case?"
I remembered times Mom went to groups of people like "Doctors Without Borders" in Paris, France, or in Geneva, Switzerland or to oversee the opening of a new clinic.
"Whoa," Peter said, "Think about what you're asking. Mom does a whole lot more than that."
I also remembered she worked a lot with education pushing new schools for children, some were going to be underground! Home computers were coming in and Wi-Fi was spreading, and another rabbit stuck his head up. Did we have emergency medical teams out there? It would be hard in the remote portions and with computer access, wouldn't it ease things if they could talk to someone about a medical emergency? If the kids can go to school online when the weather was bad, they could still go to school virtually. No, Bunny! Go on now. Get back. I'll deal with you later. Go back in your hole.
"I'll seriously consider it," I said.
I wasn't the king! Emergency services? Virtual Classrooms? I wasn't born to this. I did it again thinking: who was I to tell anyone what to do? They could access a doctor online now, like in the United States...if they had a computer and the needed medical personnel was available.
"Stop it," Peter said. He pointed at my head. "I know what you're thinking." He grinned. This time, I didn't question if he could read my mind.
My worry was about Makarovia was drastically moving from a near Medieval time that used fire to eat and see by when it was dark to modern technical Makarovia where someone came flicking bright electric lights on. People will get hurt.
Okay, it wasn't that drastic. Every Makarovian knew what television was and saw it occasionally. They saw movies and knew what things were and what they were used for. Just like when I mentioned going to a mall with Peter the first time. He knew what a mall was but had never been to one. We could cover everything in workshops and classes like we were with computers and how to use it. It would help everyone cut off in the future when the weather was bad. Until the network of tunnels was completed, it would be the best thing.
Suddenly, Rolph, who could see behind us rose and held the chair for Andreea. The ladies returned, thank god. I saw the four of them return and knew it would distract my thoughts. I suspected that only a small percent of the time was actually using the bathroom. I can't prove that because I would have to go in there. I knew anatomy and I'd seen plenty of women's bodies. I never once considered myself in any way bisexual. Gay. Me. One hundred percent G, A, Y. That was why I was asked to do it so often. I apologize a lot and I don't mean to offend anyone, but I just was not interested, even a little. If it interests you, GREAT! Go with that. Have a good time. Just be careful.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, right, the return from the Ladies Room.
I know plenty of guys, gay and straight, consider the Ladies Room a Forbidden Zone.
"Was there a line?" I asked.
"A little," Grandma said. "There were many just using the light and mirrors."
See!? I knew it! They used that time for more than just using the bathroom. There was a lot of primping going on. Then I saw three of those agents that came with us stand in their position to resume keeping watch. They were all men! Those ladies-in-waiting that Mom used for her agents were not here. "Did the agents go in with you?" Grandma and Mom looked a little surprised at me. They were alright, so I explained, "Women can be more dangerous than men! That pirate was a woman."
Mom smiled, "No, they stood at the entrance."
Andreea took Rolph's hand, "I was Rolph this time." She squeezed his hand. "We've been together a while. I've been told what you do many times." Andreea looked at me and then Yuri. "I know if you were concerned about any danger, you would have objected. There is only the one entrance, no windows, and the vents were too small to get in and out through. No area where a person could be hiding."
Yuri nodded with a sly smile, "I know."
Of course, he did! He is Yuri! We had told everyone at this table now we were coming here. I mean the day before we came. He probably had someone look it over or he might have done it himself.
Mercea was impressed, but not by Yuri. "Perhaps you could be another Security Agent, Andreea."
She shook her head, "One agent in the family is more than enough for me."
It did get more crowded a few hours later. We shouldn't do the surprise visitation again. We could come but needed to prepare where we were going. The ramifications of this economic and technological boon would mean the rise of cellphones and smartphones. That would mean they could let friends know we were here, and the crowd would be much bigger. Transportation was less difficult in summer. The many cars in the parking area were proof, but that wasn't a big problem tonight. Those in militaries here had the phones, but if their friends were in Skoal, they couldn't just hurry over. It wasn't that far, but they had to do it if they wanted to.
"There's nothing in Skoal?" Peter asked Olek.
Olek shrugged with a smile, "There were taverns there, but some of the military spouses have opened three." He shook his head, "I've not been to those, but..." he waved around us at the Grotto, "this one is the most popular in Makarovia."
Everyone at the table danced. Mercea asked a couple people here that were sort of "wallflowers." One was male. Mercea wasn't judging them by the gender...and the other guy accepted! Mercea just wanted to dance. We know he has feelings for Mikell.
Then, there was Alec. He looked like he was having a good time, but...you know my grandma. "I haven't seen you dance once, Alec."
Alec smiled and began to get flushed; he was blond. Remember? It was easy to see. "I don't dance."
Grandma smiled patiently at him, "You don't? You won't? Or you can't?" I knew she had Alec assessed quicker than I had.
Now Alec was smiling bigger, but turning a brighter red. "I don't know how."
"You know what I did and am still doing?" Grandma asked, "I taught dance for years and not just ballet. Will you let me teach you now?" She was using her maternal voice to encourage him. "I was pretty good at dance and instruction."
Alec consented with a nod, and I watched Grandma show him some simple moves and steps which Alec did awkwardly at first, but soon he was doing as well as the others.
It was a few more minutes and the DJ's voice came. "Can we get a repeat performance of that spectacular dance, Your Highness?"
Peter took my hand and we nodded.
"Can I record it to show others?" The DJ asked.
We didn't know if he could hear us, so we both shrugged. This time the crowd formed a large circle for us to dance in.
No Doubt's Hella Good began and we did it again. We even embellished some moves, such as the near brushing we did to the other's body with our hands and again, No Touchy and No Feely. For those farther back, they could see it on the big screen and the other screens at the Grotto. This song ended like the others. This time the applause, hoots, and catcalls were louder.
Peter hugged me, or I hugged him. We hugged. Panting again, we kissed.
"I love you, Eric Ivanov," Peter said.
"I know," I grinned, "I love you, Pedro Ivanov."
"I know." He said and a look appeared on his face. "We danced enough. I wonder if Boris has any of that cake left."
Easy conversation flowed at our table. We were safe in Makarovia, at least at the moment. There were no tourists yet. The people here were either locals or part of the military. Everyone knew and respected our space and didn't approach us.
"Tomorrow night there will be some reporters that will arrive for the press conference," Olek said smiling. "I don't have to tell you that the news they are getting should be told by Helga and me."
Rolph was testing the waters before he dove in, "Your Majesty, there's more than just the fact you're married."
Olek nodded, "Yes."
No one at the table had said anything about marriage. Not really. Yuri was right about the agents here. They did notice things and were smart enough to figure it out. It was all right in front of them! He, Helga, Mom, Mario, and Grandma was doing something they hadn't done before by coming to the Grotto; Olek's concern for Helga's health was more than usual, and don't forget the wedding rings. The speed of the wedding was unusual. It didn't take a rocket scientist to put the equation together and come up with an answer that fits what they did know.
"I don't know," Andreea began doubtfully.
"Andreea!" Rolph said in horror.
Andreea shook her head, "There will be Makarovians that won't like it." Then almost a wicked smile came up, "You know you're the subject of many daydreams and sexual fantasies." She physically waved us off. "Now, King Olek has taken himself off the market! There will be a lot of broken hearts!" Her voice was asking why they didn't see that.
She was right. In this country, let's be honest, a good number of those hearts worldwide were male. Olek had been the most eligible bachelor. Now that Makarovia was known more in the world, there would be a lot of disappointment.
It was time to return to the palace. Rolph and Andreea would take Alec and Mercea home. Another trait for the Human Race was universal was the departure. After a meeting, people still had things to talk about. Such as after church. The sermon ends, but it takes a few minutes for people to leave the sanctuary. There was always more that needed to be said. As a child, I came to expect certain things. I was hungry at noon! Famished! In Charleston, we went to a restaurant I liked. Mammy Roberta's. I can also say it was the first restaurant I went to. I was three months old. The restaurant was old. It opened right after World War II and the original Mammy Roberta had passed away before I was born but made such good food. When her husband was killed in that war when the naval vessel he served on sank in the South Pacific, she made ends meet by opening the restaurant. Her two children took control after Mammy Roberta's death.
Sorry, I did it again in chasing a rabbit that had nothing to do with our leaving.
We got into the two vehicles and started off for home. We had just started, and it hit me.
"Who is telling Makarovians about what's happening in Makarovia?" I asked. "Where do they get weather reports?" I couldn't even remember a newspaper.
Peter's eyes widened, "We get the news."
I agreed, "From other countries." I shook my head. "Local broadcasts from Ukraine, Romania, Poland, and Hungary are the closest." I gave a wobbly, grudging nod. "Yes, there are big networks like CNN and the BBC we watch all the time. Right before we got married, they showed a lot of Makarovia on television, the cheering crowd on the streets, and at the Grotto."
"That was an international event," Peter stated.
It wasn't really anyone's fault, but they were accustomed to being dependent on others for many things they just didn't see a problem. "Are any of those countries on our good side?"
Peter blinked, but he thought, "We aren't on their bad sides."
"When Olek made the announcement to the world," I said, "he said to everyone no one was going to take what we have."
"He never said who!" Peter stated.
"Oh please," I said in English. With Mario and Mom in the other vehicle, we had gone back to using Makarovian. Those two words in English conveyed the unsaid "spare me" best. "I'm not a Ukrainian, I'm descended from one. I knew who he meant. Poland allowed the Russian Military to have their exercises on their border next to us. There are others, but they knew who Olek was speaking to." I frowned. "Olek was right to do things as he did. Going to the strongest countries that value freedom was the smart thing to do."
"The world doesn't need another news channel," Peter griped.
"Screw the world!" Again, said in English then back again. "I'm talking about Makarovia. What happens when there is an emergency? Mines have the alarms they sound, but when Olek the first had his heart attack...how was Makarovia informed?"
Peter thought again, "There is a radio broadcast from the palace for that. It goes to the public that way."
"All of them," I wanted him to say it was, but I knew it couldn't have been. "Everyone has a radio and tuned to the station at the palace." My tone said that was impossible to believe.
"No," Peter said. "The community leaders have to have one. Everyone in Stryia has one, or a neighbor does." He shrugged, "It's pretty much the same in Skoal and Skotarskoye."
Those were two of the largest towns outside of Stryia. Skoal was even larger now because the military from many nations was here. Skotarskoye was where the metals dug out were processed and smelted. It probably will grow even more if we put the processor for the uranium there.
I wavered a nod and said, "I keep giving advice, but I don't know everything."
Peter chuckled and had shock on his face. "You don't!?" He shook his head, "So, should we get a divorce?"
Sneering at him, I said, "I told you. I'm the smartass, not you."
Peter threw his arm around me, "The only person expecting you to know everything, is you!"
I nodded, "I could be wrong..."
"About what!?" Peter asked. "You know a lot of the world in the West, the United States in particular. You weren't wrong there. You do think we need a news channel."
I shook my head, "It doesn't have to be a whole Network or even a Channel." I held the finger up, "But," I grinned. "We can run a program on the Internet! I'm surprised you don't know this. Your good buddy Ted was doing one on his computer in the seventh grade."
"A news program!?" Peter asked, astounded.
"Yep," I grinned, "He's a committed journalist and always has been. He called it the Tuscaloosa Teen News and went from twelve followers that year to one hundred and twenty-three the next year."
"He must have been good," Peter said.
"By graduation, he was up to twenty thousand and covered four high schools," I added. "He was a sports journalist but covered many things. He even showed clips of games he had people record. It went from a half-hour to an hour."
"What else did he cover?"
"Current events that affected teenagers such as dances, parties thrown by students were invited to, charity programs a school would implement, unfair treatment of students by teachers, and even corruption by members of the school board." I shrugged, "We can do that."
"I suppose," Peter said in a low voice. "However, the news is news. Facts are presented."
Why was he resisting this? I looked in his eyes, "You know perfectly well that two people can tell the same story, using the same words and have two different interpretations. Explain to me the problem you think is there."
Peter was thinking and shook his head, "No problem, but it needs more than a single person. You'll need reporters to go to the area of events, photographers, news writers...editors!"
"Okay," I said, "And?"
"We couldn't hire those people by Friday." Peter pointed out.
"We don't have to," I grinned looking at two passengers in the seat behind us. "Yuri," I smiled, "you made the Duchess appear as something else. You tracked down and stopped that Baldwin bitch from sending information to the Consortium." As I said what he'd done, the smile on his face grew. "Can you tap into the television broadcast and have a computer broadcast shown there?"
Yuri thought a minute, "Well, sure. The televisions are basically monitors. All I'd have to..."
"Hold it!" I didn't quite bark, "My head is full right now. Yes or no; can it be done?"
"Yes," Yuri answered. "That's easy!"
I nodded a quick nod, "Did you hear that!?" I pointed at Yuri over my shoulder with my thumb. "It's easy!" I shook my head, "I had a friend in grade school whose mother told the best stories! She could even tell you about going to the grocery store and have you in stitches. She was so hilarious." I raised my hand, "On the other hand, I knew someone else who would use the same words and listening to paint dry would be more exciting! It's all in the delivery."
Peter chuckled, "I know someone can tell me almost anything and make me laugh." His eyebrows waggled.
I smiled back, "I don't believe in being boring, this is more fun." Was that another rabbit? If I stay on this trail, it will be. "My point is; depending on other countries for news or entertainment. Try as they might to be otherwise, they are often biased." I slugged him lightly, "You know that!"
Peter looked puzzled, "You want to do it Friday?"
I shrugged, "Why not? We don't have anything else we have to do this week."
"Were all student parties on his show?" Peter asked, "I saw on television about teenagers and parties."
It was my turn to back my head an inch, "Not the ones thrown by the popular kids. Those were by invitation only." I grimaced, "I was not invited to Lisa's, Mark's or Donald's parties."
"You weren't popular?"
"I never tried to be," I shrugged and leaned closer as if to tell him something confidential. "I'll be honest. It would have been nice to be asked to come."
Peter laughed, "I'd say you had the best revenge. We had several parties. We've had kings, queens, princes, and heads of state...Lisa, Mark, and Donald weren't invited."
"I'll be honest again," I grinned. "I hadn't thought about it until now."
"Don't you have a reunion to go to soon?" Peter asked.
"In two years," I chuckled, "Besides, I'll be busy that weekend."
"You know you'll be busy the weekend it will be two years in advance?"
"Whichever the weekend will be," I said, "It will be after we graduate, and I'll be here!"
Peter smiled, "We have that new jet; no problem."
I realized something and I looked at him, "You didn't have a graduation."
"I'm in college!"
I chuckled, "You never got the cap and gown thing."
He shook his head, "No, I didn't have any of that."
The idea of showing them up was tempting, but I know where I was and what I am, I did not achieve by doing anything to earn it. I knew a language and asked to help another student so he could pass a course. Me, too. I won't bore you, but we didn't really speak the language I knew but is derived from it.
Showing everyone what I had would be satisfying only for a few minutes.
Those high school rules, unwritten but there, were followed. Mark was quarterback of our football team. Lisa was very pretty and had long blonde hair. She was the captain of the cheerleading squad. The rule that Mark and Lisa were to date was followed. Essentially, they were the couple to be seen with during the eleventh and twelfth grades. Many of their parties were thrown together.
Donald was almost Prince Charming. Almost. He was damned good looking and was six feet and three inches tall. That was just over one hundred and ninety centimeters! He was also on the football team, but his claim to fame wasn't about sports. No, his claim was money. His father had a lot of money and spoiled his son and daughter. They both drove a couple of nice cars, but in our senior year, Donald drove up in a brand-new white Corvette. I remember thinking, but Donald had nine to ten months left to graduate!
Grandma always told me things I valued because they always proved to be true. Those people on top of the heap had to struggle to remain on the top. "That's exhausting." She stated. "Who are their best friends they trust and confide in?" I had no idea. No depth did I ever see from any of them.
You know me now and know I would have preferred Mark and Donald to date. Spare me the usual comments about that and losing our species. I know that. Who knew what they did in the locker room?
I've given that rabbit enough attention.
Because the Grotto was isolated in a cavern to prevent noise pollution. It was a drive. Not a long one because Makarovia was not big. I don't need to tell you, being in a country in the mountains you had a wandering road, do I? A road straight to the Grotto wouldn't be that long, but this old mining road weaved a way down. It took a little time to get down safely. There were no posted speed limits. Care had to be taken not to have an accident.
A smile on my face grew as I saw the night traffic in Stryia. Even if you've only visited a large city, you know how bad it can be. It would be a while before we had morning or evening traffic.
We pulled into the courtyard of the palace.
It was going to be another busy day in the morning. I was getting a tour of the capital city.
Congratulations to Olek and Helga; see you in the morning for the others, we went to our rooms.
Sliding into the bed, Peter was going through in his mind.
"When we broadcast to Makarovia about Olek and Helga," He started. "The palace will pay the people working."
I chuckled, "Maybe the first and second one. You know what a commercial is for."
Peter nodded and then shrugged. "A Makarovian commercial."
"Word of mouth works well," I said. "Like the Makarovian Gourmet Coffee Shoppe. I can see a commercial about them. A shot of steaming coffee being poured as other types of coffee and beverages are poured."
"There's always a line at the counter now!" Peter said. "Enough people know about it now!"
"You know about supply and demand, Peter!"
He gave sort of nod and then shook his head, "I just didn't expect...," he looked directly at me. "This is Makarovia!"
"Yes," I grinned. "Business is business. A few more people could be hired to handle a second line." I gave a grunt and said, "That means they will need more supplies. If you don't have what's demanded, you can't supply. We've been to the Starbucks at the Student Union at Northeastern. You've seen how busy it can be. You even have that Mega-Mug!"
Peter had gotten this mug from Starbucks because he liked getting a fresh refill between classes. It was just a tad bit wider than a normal mug. Peter was thrilled when I gave it to him. It was a ceramic mug wrapped by stainless steel and insolated to keep it hot. It was three venti (the biggest) cups of coffee in that single mug. It had a no-leak, resealable lid. People complained about not fitting in their cupholder in their cars. Aw, the poor things. Peter hardly ever put his Mega-Mug down. He was an addict. I worry if he ever had to give it up. He would struggle with that one, but I would be the one to suffer.
"I can't wait for a competitor to open," I said.
"You love Makarovian Coffee Shoppe!"
"Yes, I do," I agreed. "Competition can be good for business. Forcing improvements and keeps the prices under control. If I can get something better for less I'd be a fool not to go for the better offer. At this moment, how many coffee shops are there?"
Peter was getting it, "That's the only one I know of."
"They can open one in Skoal and the other towns and villages in Makarovia." I stopped a second. "Where was I going?"
"Commercials?"
I brighten, "Oh, yes, right. The commercials will pay salaries and maintain the equipment. It doesn't have to be that one show. There could be programs for children, too. It doesn't have to just be educational." I rolled over on top of him. "It's no wonder so many languages are spoken in Makarovia, to understand what's going on in the world, you have to. When the Soviets were in control, you had Russian Channels?"
Peter chuckled, "That was before my time, but yes."
"I'm surprised Makarovian survived," I said. "When Russia, Ukraine, or Romania had control, you had to speak Russian, Ukrainian, and Romanian."
"Yes," Peter said. "Dad and Grandpa made a mandate that all Makarovians spoke to other Makarovians in Makarovian."
I smiled, "To keep what you are alive."
Peter nodded quickly and said in English, "Damn straight!" He grinned, "We are Makarovians!"
I shook my head as I thought of smartass statements, "No, that would be too easy."
"I look forward to showing you Stryia," Peter said. "It's pretty here."
"I'm sure," I nodded.
Peter grinned, "We can take your car." He said, dangling that carrot of temptation in my face.
"We still have to be escorted by security."
"Yes," Peter nodded. "We can get by with two. Why?"
"Do you see most of our security? Have you seen my backseats?" I shook my head, "They'll get squashed!"
Peter laughed, "It's not that small. Yuri has ridden in it, so has Boris, they didn't complain."
"Would they? Even if being cramped was a problem?" I asked and answered my own question, "No."
"I wouldn't put Pano back there," Peter said.
I shook my head, "That's not even going to be considered." I kissed him gently and sat up a bit more again. "One more question."
Peter rolled his eyes but smiled patiently.
"We have agents in Boston," I said. "None of them are small, but..." I began, "There is a mandatory two-year service to Makarovia. I've not seen every male in Makarovia, but they all aren't as large as Mikell or Alec...Is there a height requirement?"
Peter chuckled, "If they are doing the mandatory service, not really. They are still too young. There is usually another late growth spurt in their late teens and early twenties. Yuri does prefer them to be at least one hundred and seventy-seven centimeters."
I don't have to remind you, I hate math. This one was easy because it was my height at five feet and ten inches. We just had to be different across the Atlantic and resisted change.
"Only thirty percent of the male population is over five feet ten inches," I said in thought. "I wonder what the height of Makarovian men is."
"Do you want to find out now?" He cocked his head a little. "I'm naked in bed with you and you want to measure every man in Makarovia?"
I shrugged, "I can wait." I kissed him again. "I feel at home Peter, my home."
Peter's face softened and he smiled, "And last summer or the Nativity Season?"
"I was comfortable in your home," I said. "Now, there is a comfort with that. It's a sanctuary from the outside world. I feel safe and secure now."
"I love you, Eric."
I smiled. "I know. I love you, Peter."
"I know."
The morning arrived and sunlight shone through the little windows at the top of the outer walls. A perfect day for seeing what was out there. I could hear the happy birds chirping and singing welcoming the new day. (You know the walls were thick stone and unless it was one of the military planes, I couldn't have heard them. I have a good imagination, so I create my own Disney moments.)
Peter's reaction to what was said the night before was humorous. He knew better than a lot of Makarovians did about the world. His chosen isolation had created an image of Makarovia. Principles he knew full well for the world out there, but not in Makarovia. The exchange of what someone has to another to get something they desired started way back in the past. That was where the idea of civilization came from. Trade made many things possible. We had left caves behind and were nomads. We moved with our prey. I wonder how the first human plopped down and said, "I'm tired of this. I refuse to walk another foot!" Of course, it was said in the appropriate grunts of early language. I'm sure his feelings on the matter were articulated well. He wasn't budging. Or she! I've known a lot of women that when their minds are made up don't easily change their minds.
The usual first thing for people hit me. I had to pee. I grinned as the constant protection was there. Peter's arm was around me as he spooned behind me. I also figured out it wasn't even for my security, but for Peter's; I was his teddy bear! I know I've told you even as a child I didn't share my bed with anyone or anything, but with Peter, I made myself get used to it. I suppose I don't need to tell you my feelings about Peter, but I have to tell you; I found it more comfortable during the winter. Air conditioning was almost unheard of in Makarovia. The temperature rarely rose to eighty-five degrees in the peak of a day in the summer. Night temperatures lowered into the low seventies and sixties. That's in Fahrenheit, not in Celsius obviously. Peter was a warm person, and I'm not talking about his disposition! I lived my whole life in the South in the United States, and I knew what it was like to be hot and sticky when sleeping and I can say I am miserable when hot. Charleston was the worst I ever experienced. We had a severe hurricane and power was out a week. The heat and humidity were horrible!
I know, another rabbit. This is just a small one. "Don't wiggle your cute nose at me, now scoot, scoot!" I do like rabbits. It was a misconception that rabbits are rodents. They are not, though they do share an ancestor with rats... See!? I'm doing it again! Sorry.
Peter generated some heat! Nature's call could not be ignored, so I raised his arm gently as I could, and I had yet found a way to do it without waking him up. It wasn't bad to be someone's teddy bear. We all usually have transitional objects in life to be comfortable during our transition from one stage of life to the other such as infancy to childhood, from there to teenagers. Many grown adults keep that object with them their entire life so they can remember and get comfort in that. I had them; I just didn't sleep with one. I could really go after that rabbit, but I'll spare you. I found solace in the fact that I brought a sense of security having me with him. It is a little codependent, but aren't married couples supposed to be? His hold on me tightened as it always did. I rolled over kissing him quickly.
"I'll be right back," I said softly.
I said it so often now, even in his sleep clouded mind he knew what had to happen. He released his hold and mumbled something, I couldn't understand if it was an apology or just an acknowledgment. Whatever. I got up and did what I needed to do. Often times, it triggered something in Peter. He would begin waking up and so did his bodily functions. I met him as he headed to do the same on the way back to our bed.
"I was comfortable," Peter grumbled as he passed.
I smiled, "And you'll never be comfortable again."
"That's not the point," Peter's voice came.
In the years I have known him now, he was never mean. I knew him too well to fall for his "annoyance" act.
"You're right, it's not," I said. "The point was I was uncomfortable. If you hadn't let me up, we would both be uncomfortable in a wet bed."
I heard another grunt as he walked out, "It's all about you."
I nodded, "A minute or two ago; Hell, yes, it most certainly was." Grinning at him, "I have got to say, your delivery has improved greatly."
Peter smiled and shook his head, "I can never fool you, can I?"
"I wouldn't want you to be able to," I said simply. "We have a good marriage. Trust is important. Communication is important."
His arms came around me. He chuckled, "We do those two things very well." He said kissing me. "Good morning."
I smiled, "Good morning." You now know how my mind works. "Do those windows open?"
The sudden topic leap I made baffled him a second or two, "What?" He asked as he processed what I'd said. "The windows?" He asked and pointed up at one, "You mean those windows?"
I nodded, "It makes sense." I said thinking out loud. "Palaces and living quarters of royalty, especially in Egypt, were higher than the houses surrounding it. Why?"
"Because they are better than everyone else?"
"That was just one of the reasons. They did the same in Italy and other countries," I tapped his chest. "The other reason was to keep the stench of waste and all those human and animal bodies away. The most important reason was for fresh air and to catch the cool breezes!"
Peter shook his head again, "Why do you know this?"
"I remember it from World History,"
"Okay," Peter nodded as he looked up at the window. "You want to open the windows."
"Just a couple," I sort of pleaded. "You know I love you to death. I'd never hurt you."
"But?" Peter turned his head to look at me and said suspiciously wanting me to just say it.
"I was hot last night," I said. "You generate a great deal of heat." I saw his eyes widen so I hurried on, "Which is great except for the next month! Can we get a fan or something? Circulate the air." I waved at the palace. "This whole palace and fortress were constructed to hold in heat! That is usually the most needed. Those vents in the fireplaces and lower ceiling in the bed-chamber work very well when it's cold."
"But last night you were hot," Peter nodded. "I made it worse." He said a little sadly.
"This is one of the times I don't like Grandma's rule," I said pulling him close. "It's not something you do on purpose. It's a simple request to get some air circulated. We're up high enough so it should be easy enough to solve the problem." I smiled at him. "I'm not blaming you for what you can't control. I will say this, though. I always heard castles were often cold and drafty. Whatever Makarovians did with this place, it isn't drafty."
Peter looked up at the window, "I have never had anyone open one before." He shrugged. "I'll have to ask." He took it well. Before he blamed himself often about problems caused by his family and his position. He even blamed himself for losing the apartment during the first year. He didn't take any blame this time. "There is normally a radio signal from the palace sent at nine."
I knew what he was talking about. His topic leap didn't baffle me. "In the morning or at night?"
Peter's smile grew. However, it really wasn't the same. We had been talking about it last night. My question about the windows and circulating air was from out of nowhere.
"Yes," Peter grinned. "Someone in each town is to listen each time."
"So, every twelve hours a radio broadcast is sent." I nodded.
"Strictly about Makarovia," Peter replied. "In private homes the person in residence is responsible. The mayors and village leaders are responsible to let everyone know. With the international networks reporting much of the news, there are times when there is nothing to report, but we send a signal..." he thought about what to say, "Such as those emergency test signals in the United States. If they don't get one, they need to find out why not."
"Okay," I said, "That's logical." Now, I had to be careful. Not that I'd be hurt, or Peter would be hurt, but I could challenge his national pride. "I am Makarovian," I said proudly. "I can't think of more generous and caring people. You're all smart..."
"But?" Peter asked again.
"You are people that have been conditioned and for generations and taught to do things, such as hide, or depend on others to bring you what you need. I don't think you realize how far that goes." I waved at our television and computer. "News and entertainment are brought in by someone else! We've kept our language and customs; we are all proud to be Makarovian! Everything we bring in is done in Ukrainian, Romanian or English." I gave a grudging nod, "I know there are others and I think that's great! The children watch Vulystsya Sezam," I saw his brow wrinkle, "Sesame Street? You know Bert, Ernie, Elmo, Big Bird..." I saw Peter's smile and nod, so I went on. "That's in Ukrainian! They learn Makarovian at home and at school. Wouldn't it be nice to see and hear it in Makarovian?"
"But they need to learn other languages," Peter argued.
I threw my hands out in futility. "Is there any choice not to?" I brought his head toward mine causing our foreheads to touch. "A Makarovian reporting about things in Makarovia, speaking in Makarovian will help boost that pride." I kissed him deeply and then said, "That gives us two broadcasts to get the word out that WMNN, Makarovian News Network will be on the Internet!"
Peter grinned, "WMNN? Aren't those letters claimed? You said it wouldn't be a network."
"The letters I'm sure are being used already," I said. "If the radio and internet program is working together, it will be a network!"
Peter chuckled, "We're really going to do this?"
I nodded, "We're doing this!"
After shower and clean clothes, we went down to get our necessities. Coffee was one of those. As it always was in East Europe, breakfast was very substantial. Makarovians loved their bread. Not sweet rolls. I'm sure they'd make them if we asked, but there were whole-grain slices of toasted bread, a skillet breakfast of scrambled eggs, peppers, cheese, and kielbasa! It was good, but not done by Henri or Boris.
We had the family dining room to ourselves. Either everyone had eaten and left early, or they hadn't gotten up yet. We were up a little late the night before.
It was already a little after nine, but I knew we'd miss that one. Tonight, and in the morning would be the two I mentioned.
We heard some quiet conversation as it got louder just as Olek and Helga entered. Helga's arm through Olek's as they strolled in not in any hurry.
Olek smiled a smile of comfortable satisfaction. "I'm surprised to see anyone still here."
Manners and etiquette were observed as Peter, and I stood up as Helga sat.
"Peter's showing me Stryia," I said.
"But first," Peter began and asked about the windows which I found out could open but hasn't been in thirty years or so except to keep them clean.
When I was asked why, I merely said. "The Secret Garden." You know I love to do this. I got three curious looks. I'm certain psychiatric professionals have theories about the need I have. "The book and several movies where a little girl helps her wealthy but sickly cousin recover by exposing him to clean air and sunshine in the hidden garden the sick cousin's dead mother had built."
Helga was nodding as she smiled, remembering it fondly, "Der Geheime Garten. I remember that."
It wasn't hard for me to know that it was the same title but in German.
"Peter and I aren't sick, but fresh air can't hurt," I shrugged.
"He says I give off too much heat," Peter grumbled.
Helga burst out laughing. "So does Olek!"
I waved at Helga, but looked at Peter, "See!?"
Peter grinned, but let it go. "Second," and he explained what we thought needed to be done. Olek, like Peter, was unaware anything was missing. I use the idiom again with a twist. How do you fix something you don't even know is broken?
"Do we need equipment?" Olek asked.
I shrugged, "Really we can do it now. I know the computer in your office and bedroom have cameras that allow us to see and speak by way of the Internet. Yuri knows how to get it on the monitors and television screens in Makarovia."
"There will even be Makarovian commercials," Peter muttered.
Olek frowned, "Do we have to?"
I laughed, "Olek, don't you want to know which deodorant to use or who to go to when there's a problem with bugs?"
Helga was also loving this, "Or what works the best with feminine hygiene or even erectile dysfunction?" She grinned at Olek and then said patting his hand, "I'm sure no Ivanov at this table has to worry about that."
"Not yet," Olek chuckled.
"A well thought out commercial can be entertaining," I said. "There are many that are hilarious!"
"Many are just stupid," Peter muttered.
"Do you remember which ones?" I asked.
"Those insurance commercials with that lizard are ridiculous at times!" Peter defended.
"Aha!" I raised a finger as I looked at him, "but you remember! Even what it was about!" I used that finger and poked his head lightly. "That's what they want you to do. Mission accomplished!" I leaned in and said in mocking confidence, "And it isn't a lizard; it's a..." I had to use the word in English as I didn't know the word in Makarovian, "gecko."
Peter just rolled his eyes. "Gakon in Makarovian...whatever."
No one said it was a bad idea. I hoped the broadcast idea would go over well. It wouldn't have the polish that CNN or the BBC had, but that would improve with time. It's human nature to become bored and lazy at times. Makarovia had not become lazy because of the need to prepare for the severe cold weather that would arrive as early as the beginning of October. A program aimed at Makarovians to warn them ahead of time would be very helpful. Our neighboring countries had the same weather, but Makarovia was a big valley. The mountains that ringed us seemed to hold the snow and ice storms when they hit. Romania, Hungary, and part of Poland suffered too, but they had the infrastructure to deal with it. We were building that infrastructure. Makarovia's underground was just the beginning. The idle time when the weather caused isolation could be used to educate and warn them about the threats from scammers and so many others in the world.
Before Peter could show me around Stryia, we needed to speak with Yuri.
Yuri, for now, was easy to find. He was in charge of Makarovian Security. Not the military. They aren't the same. Security Agents were military but assigned to Yuri's control. The militia in Makarovia didn't need a Navy or an Air Force. They were an Army. When one of the Makarovian young people did their mandatory two-year service, the members that showed promise were asked to do more than just stand guard or clean up the barracks. They can move on in the Army as Mercea had done and became an agent, which I learned was very difficult for anyone to just do. They could go into law enforcement and other things that needed to be manned.
Yuri was sitting at a computer in the office for security. He smiled at us as we entered that said he knew why we came. "You still want to broadcast King Olek's announcement to Makarovia."
"That's the plan," I said. "In as far as the connection and feed to show it on the monitors, that includes the televisions, what do we need to do?"
Yuri chuckled, "We have a camera that can send a signal, it really doesn't have any particular destination," He sat back. "It's who is going to receive it we need to think about. We have a webpage for Makarovia already. Sending that signal to the webpage and telling the user to open another window to see it. The televisions will have to be set to receive the digital signal." He raised a finger and added, "but not everyone in Makarovia can get a digital signal. The change over from analog to digital is still ongoing in Makarovia. Many had to get those converters for the television to see your wedding," he shrugged, "or go to the Grotto or other places to see it. It shouldn't be a problem."
I nodded, "Which language is Olek using?"
Yuri looked surprised, "I assume it will be in English. Almost all European countries speak English and translate English."
"Yes," I agreed, "Almost all European countries speak English, but not everyone in those countries can speak English."
Yuri's brow wrinkled, "I guess they caption it or do a voiceover."
I shook my head, "Almost none can speak Makarovian." I shrugged. "Ukrainians can probably make sense of it if they listen carefully."
Peter looked at me puzzled, "This news conference is to the world, not just Makarovia."
I nodded again, "Right. For that reason, it should be. Those countries out there can translate that easily, but Makarovian is mostly unknown. Future shows will be in Makarovian for Makarovians. If we show something other countries want to show, they will have to learn to translate it. Our customs, ways, and even our language need to be accepted."
"You want to force them to speak Makarovian?" Yuri asked.
"No," I shook my head. "I'm talking to you and Peter in Makarovian. This is our conversation. If our future Step-Aunt Maria came in, she may have to have someone who speaks Italian for her to understand our conversation."
Yuri nodded, "Oh, I see." He shrugged and smiled evilly. "We could do it this time and make everybody scramble to figure it out."
Peter chuckled, "No, Yuri. We're trying to get people to know us and like us, alienate them."
It puzzled me why Peter, Olek, and Yuri weren't understanding what I was talking about, but thinking about it there were things about all of them. Helga understood. She was raised and educated in the West. Remember, Germany, France, Great Britain, and others were part of the West. Not just the United States and Canada. Oppression caused a lot of behaviors in people. Peter and Olek were like most in Makarovia and used to hiding and staying out of the spotlights. Olek was willing to step out in the world to change that, but sometimes things slipped by him. Both Yuri and Boris were born and had their childhoods in Russia when it was controlled by the Soviets. After the USSR fell apart the freedom to do what you desired was a struggle to deal with. Boris' and Yuri's desire for each other caused the need to hide and stay out of the spotlights. Russia was still not gay friendly. According to Yuri and Boris, many of the tactics were used by the KGB were used by the modern police. Well, they were many years ago before Boris and Yuri fled Russia for Makarovia. They still had a hard time showing affection to each other when I first came to the townhouse in Boston. They knew Peter and I were and fine with it because they were gay themselves. Yuri was the one that had the biggest problem with that.
My original point with this was, what I saw plain as daylight about what to do, they had to come around to that thinking. I was determined to make that happen for all Makarovians. I hoped this Network of potential shows would help with that.
"Who is going to head this up?" Yuri asked me, "You?"
I quickly shook my head, "Absolutely not! My plate is full enough as it is! I've got the uranium processing, now the overseeing of medical and educational needs of Makarovia, I have the Makarovian arts..." I turned to Peter, "And about that, I've seen some beautiful paintings and sculptures, are you telling me there are no writers in Makarovia. There is Milo's journal, but that was in German. Other writings are published on our webpage, but there have to be others. Where are they?"
Peter's eyes widened, but he was smiling, "I don't know! We've been rather busy." I could see his body shudder a little as he laughed silently.
I shook my head, "Not that busy. Where are those lost treasures? Huh? The search for them, has it been abandoned?"
"Of course, not," Yuri said grinning. "I know King Olek has some older miners who knew the mines of the past looking. Especially now while it's warm."
"Fine," I groused. "What about translating existing literature?"
"The reading adults can read plenty of literature," Yuri said.
"Fine again," I said. "And the children?"
"They learn to read English and other languages," Yuri argued.
My eye narrowed as I pointed at him, "Did you read Kot V Shliape or Slon Khorton vysizhivaet iaitso?"
Yuri was now laughing, but Peter spoke Russian and said, "The Cat in the Hat? Horton hatches the Egg?"
I motioned at Yuri, "He knows what those are!" I wasn't angry. It was really quite amusing. "Dr. Seuss wrote some great stuff! I don't believe there's but a handful of people that don't know it. My favorites were Are you my Mother? and Green Eggs and Ham."
"There are copyrights and all that..." Peter added.
"So? They did it in Russian! They would love to do in Makarovian." I pointed again at Yuri. "We'll need some people to work on this. I know they have computers to translate on the screens what's said in captions a language they understand. Why can't we?"
Yuri shrugged, "We can, but not by tomorrow afternoon."
"What happens tomorrow we'll deal with as before," I said simply and then looked at Peter. "Do you feel you have enough duties?"
"What!?" This time the tone of his voice wasn't just for effect. "I can't do that! I'm still working on the city planning..."
"Relax," I said, "We need someone who will be in Makarovia a while to do the job. You and I are still getting degrees. I know some of the projects you're working on to improve Makarovia and a lot is coming." I smiled at him. "I think the first one should be by someone they love and trust," I patted his chest. "That's you!"
Yuri nodded, "He's right."
"Then we find a Makarovians who are extroverts, have good personalities, and not afraid of cameras," I insisted and waved my arm at the outer wall. "We have millions of Makarovian possibilities! Someone has to be able to do this!"