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The Gamer Chapter 1812 – Gaming Distrust
🕑 Added 2025-01-07 17:44:52 +0000 UTC
The rest of Justinian’s first day was an almost sad affair. Most of it was spent by the sanctimonious Latebloomer moping about and taking in what factual information he could. John had been halfway convinced he had already managed to break the will of the man.
“Today, I shall not be accompanied by your toxic presence!”
The declaration made first thing in the morning, made John raise an eyebrow. ‘Looks like someone got their self-righteousness back,’ he thought. ‘A night’s sleep heals many things…’ “Then what do you want to do today?”
“In my benevolence, I took your words yesterday as gospel. Once I was on my own, I realized that you had sapped from me my motivation to do what must be done to deliver peace and prosperity to all people!” Justinian stormed to the table and grabbed a paper. It was the one on which John had written out the summary of anti-slavery measures. “To take your description of yourself as gospel is pure naivety, I realize this now. What I must do is learn from the people of Fusion about your wicked character!”
“You’re not exactly signalling an open mind there,” John remarked with a yawn. “Despite that, I’m happy you’re trying to understand the strands.” Quickly, the Gamer withdrew a roll of Tokens from his inventory and handed it over to Justinian. “This should allow you to get around the city quickly and this…” he handed over a writ with the presidential seal, “…will give you access to most locations in Fusion. They will still keep you out of Nightfall.”
“You advertise openly where you hide the bodies.”
“I’m not giving you the names of my secret agents. This experiment has its limits,” John stated firmly. “That aside, knock yourself out.”
“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” Justinian declared with all of the unaware haughtiness of a Lawful Stupid paladin. “Soon enough I will uncover the corruption you have been hiding.”
“Yeah, yeah,” John waved off. “Find me hidden slave farms or whatever.”
“Your jokes do nothing to hide your uncertainty, villain.” With that declaration made, Justinian left the office again.
‘Is this the level of overconfidence I would have without you?’ John sent a mental question to his conscience.
Stirwin hummed deeply. ‘You would possess a different kind of overconfidence,’ he responded, before returning his attention to his current task. Like most days, the infinity elemental was sitting in the pool of Light Essence on his island and giving advice to whoever sought it.
Irksome attitude aside, this was actually what John had wanted out of Justinian. He was likely going to go around now, ignore all of the good things he heard and follow every bad thing like a bloodhound did a fresh trail. If he found nothing, good, if he found something, better. Either way, John would come out the victor in this.
Obviously, Justinian would not actually be allowed to act on his own.
‘Siena?’ The contact with his shadow spirit was met with a mild wave of curiosity. Just by touching minds, he realized that she was currently busy holding her own version of court. ‘Hate to take you out of your busy day, but I have need of your expertise.’
‘Ah, whatever sinful affair would require me in particular?’ Siena purred back. ‘A tantalizing topic, no doubt related to your current toy?’
John wouldn’t even deny that Justinian fit into that category. ‘He wants to investigate my reputation and programs today and I have given him all the necessary authority to do so.’
‘You desire me to stay in his shadow,’ Siena said. Even though her tone was straightforward, her voice at its base made anything she said sound like an innuendo. Among all of his women, Siena was without a doubt the one whose every vocalization was the most sexually charged. It was as if someone was pouring pure porn down his ears. ‘I’ll help you take care of your little issue then.’
‘Much appreciated,’ John responded.
Their mental connection ebbed, reducing it to the usual, low level of communications between their souls. He was still aware of her well-being and of her general direction. If she suddenly experienced an intense shock, he would have felt it. Beyond that, she was a minor facet at the edge of his mental landscape.
“What are your plans now?” Ehtra asked.
“A splendid question.” John hopped onto his temporary table, putting his butt down as he thought about it. Ehtra’s fingers continued to move over her mechanical keyboard. She had plenty of work to do even while representing a president that was purely symbolic and not around. The primary work of a secretary, after all, was to filter all of the requests that the office got and separate what actually was worthy of attention and what belonged to a different branch of government entirely.
As for John, he could do his regular work. That would go against the spirit of the agreement with Justinian, however, and he thought it would be useful to show the sanctimonious Latebloomer what happened when he let work pile up. Lessening the papers that would pile up over the course of the day was therefore counterproductive. By the end of this, he wanted the people that still doubted that he was doing his best to know that this was not easy work.
“That’s an idea,” he said out loud and circled around his table to sit at it, rather than on it. “There should be new popularity polls in by now…”
Ehtra clicked her tongue, but let him go. She was one of the women in his harem that put no stock in such polls twice over. For one, she did not believe that leaders should be swayed by the public’s opinions. For two, she did not believe that the pollsters were creating accurate representations of reality in the first place.
Both points had to be given their due. Catering to the whims of the public led to rather schizophrenic policies. Isolation from public feedback led to absolutely detached policies, however, so that was another case of finding the golden mean. On pollsters, there was a slew of wider concerns to be had.
Polls were both taken and designed by humans. A confusingly worded question could throw the result off by so many points that the whole thing was effectively useless. Similarly, the pollsters could desire to get in good graces with whoever commissioned the poll and thus either worded questions in a matter that was going to get the looked for result or sampled in a manner that would create the desired result.
If a government wanted legitimacy in their program to reintroduce wolves to an area, they would ask the people living in cities and not the farmers whose sheep were threatened by such wildlife.
Alternatively, the pollsters just polled the city folk because it was a lot easier to go through the phone registry of a town than it was to go through several counties worth of homesteads.
There were many levers for polls that could skew the results, malicious, random, or anything else. However, polls were still the best sampling tool for low-resolution feedback that he had access to. In John’s opinion, it was good to look at them for broad trends.
First things first, John checked on his own popularity poll. The disgruntlement of the elite was barely reflected there. A few public complaints had been made and that appeared to have manifested in a drop of 2% from John’s incredibly high 93% approval rating. Such numbers were usually reserved for dictators who certainly manipulated them. Alas, bringing peace and prosperity to a large nation like this could create this outcome genuinely.
It did doubtlessly help that John (and the Order) had killed or otherwise purged major adversarial elements. Similarly, it must have done a lot for the approval ratings that there was no real comparison to be drawn. Democracies suffered the problem that there were people vying for the same position, which created a lot of mud slinging and factional thinking. John stood above such factions. He had gone to great lengths to remain outside the party system. What criticisms on him remained were matters that he usually just hadn’t gotten to yet. Since he had the public’s trust, they just believed him when he said he would.
Still, there had been a drop. John believed that drop to come from his recent absence(s) and the various people that were outspokenly against his foreign adventurers. It could also have been an accumulation of rounding numbers or just a slight shift in who was polled. In any case, at 91% approval, John had no worries whatsoever about the public opinion.
He looked at polls regarding specific matters after. Most importantly, opinions on the economy were as positive as ever. John continued to deliver on it and that was what most people needed. Every civilization was always 9 missed meals away from collapse, so the saying went, and the Gamer was making sure those meals kept coming and increasing in quality.
The justice system was getting a bit more criticism. That was to no surprise. The ‘freedom vs safety’ debate ran down every population. American traditions and the free life Abyssals had lived so far caused them to tilt notably towards the former, but the disadvantages of the often anarchic or tyrannically tribal circumstances also had many people consider the latter carefully. Especially the central lands of Fusion, taken over from the Order, were interested in seeing more laws with harsher punishments.
Luckily, John did not have to do too much there. On the federal model, the states could pass whatever moralistic or pragmatic laws they wanted locally. The number of cases Fusion itself prosecuted dwindled with each month, more local structures getting cobbled together east to west.
Then there was the matter of the recent tournament and Justinian. The tournament itself was fairly popular with those that had watched it. Some wanted it to be more violent, others would have preferred it if more than combat power would have been tested. The decision to install Justinian as the temporary head of Fusion was met with lukewarm reception. Most people appeared to believe it was a bad idea, but they were willing to see where it went due to their high trust in John.
So that was flattering.
‘Nothing new to really glean from any of this,’ John thought and closed the windows. He was still popular with the public in practically all measures. As long as he kept this ship on course, he had to do very little to keep it that way. Fusion was a developing economy with more raw resources than hands to extract them. All he needed to do was ensure good pay and working conditions and people would love him.
On the macro scale, governing was actually fairly simple. It was the micro management that created all of the headache.
Ehtra grumbled about the idiocy of someone. Her fingers moved a little faster, no doubt formulating an active aggressive response. As secretary, Ehtra had the privilege of not being diplomatic about her responses to idiotic inquiries. If she ever stepped over the line, John could use that to appear calm and reasonable by contrast. To be fair, next to the First of Hatred, he was actually calm and… well, Ehtra wasn’t unreasonable, just unfriendly.
“Do you want to take a break?” he asked her.
“What would I do instead?” Ehtra slammed her finger on the enter key, sending whatever she had been putting together out into the aether of confused, uninformed, or rude citizens. “The tide of morons is never ending.”
“Want to show me around Akkad?”
Ehtra raised her gaze from the screen. The artificial light reflected in her eyes. While the Guild Hall simulated summer heat, it could not change the path of the sun and it rose late at this time of year. Screens and bulbs replaced golden eyes. Grey feathers rustled slightly, impossibly soft metal quivering.
“You… really don’t need to take time for that, Master,” Ehtra mumbled and averted her eyes. “It’s my project, no need for you to go around and waste your time with it.”
‘God, she can be adorable.’ Getting a little closer, John gently took hold of one of the side braids that emerged from the silvery-white hair of the grey angel. The silk-like strands were woven into a loose rope, held together by red rings. John let it glide over his palm as he bowed down to kiss the brush of free hair at the end. “There’s nothing wasted about time with you.”
Ehtra pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress a half-panicked, enamoured squeal. It got stuck in her throat, where it managed to do the impossible of giving this woman of metal and divine magic a hiccup. A singular one, strong enough to have her jump in the chair. Her blush was too intense to be covered by the chocolate shade of her skin.
Hurriedly, Ehtra turned to the side. A wing created a wall between them, over which John barely could see her green eyes. “Shut up…” she grumbled, glanced at him, then abruptly stood up. “Urgh, fine, if you insist on it!”
“I do,” John said with a broad smile and offered his hand. The two ways to make it past the hard shell of a sweet-sour woman like her were sincerity and teasing. The former always yielded more romantic results. “Let’s get away from all of this for a bit. You and I, to the world of your creation.”
John put every bit of adoration he felt for her into those words. He was not aiming to short-circuit her brain, but he did admittedly enjoy watching it. Ehtra’s blush was deep, her eyes locked, set in a stunned expression. To call her overwhelmed by emotion would have been an understatement.
“Claire!” she blurted out all of a sudden.
John tilted his head, somewhat confused. “Claire?”
“Let’s take Claire along!” Ehtra declared, then started marching towards the door before he could ask further questions. She moved like a wind-up toy. Mechanical precision and awkwardness fused in one exceedingly curvy shape.
“Well, no harm in asking her,” John promised.
