"The Eternal Emperor" from A Mysterious Evening in Vienna

The emperor turned to his most trusted – but not trustworthy – advisor.

“Are you sure, Marcus?”

“Our spies estimate its reliability to be at 70%, Mister Emperor.”

The wise, but not shrewd, emperor scratched his head, muttering over and over again “70%. 70%. 70%.” Finally he interrupted his thoughts: “But a C- is failing.”

“70% is majority. Majority rules,” responded the advisor.

“So if we know we have a majority, let’s present it to the Senate and they will approve it. And 70% is filibuster-proof.”

“Mister Emperor!! A public debate?? About a topic like this?? The public does not need to know. This is not a public matter, or res publica. Leave the res publica[1] to the Republic. But this matter requires your discrete and decisive action.”

The emperor scratched his head again in deep contemplation. “How did you find this potion again?”

“Like I said, Mister Emperor, there’s a 70% chance that the immortality potion is in Alexandria.”

“But how do you know?”

“Remember that guy who’s been cleaning toilets for a living for my younger brother’s factory?”

“Yes.”

“And remember that he cleaned toilets for my father when my father ran the factory?”

“Yes …”

“And remember when my grandfather passed away, at that time, this guy was cleaning toilets at my grandfather’s factory too?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well it turns out, he’s been an employee of that factory for seven generations.”

“What did he do before he was cleaning toilets at that factory?”

“I don’t know. That was before the industrial revolution, and my family’s factory didn’t exist then. I don’t know where he worked then. All I know is that he was alive then. Before the factory was built, seven generations ago.”

The wise, but not shrewd, emperor scratched his head, again in deep contemplation.

“If this guy holds the secret to immortality, then why in the world is he still scrubbing toilets for a living?” the emperor asked. “He could be ruling the world!”

“That’s exactly why. He likes to keep a low profile.”

“What do you mean?”

“The story goes, in Antiquity, this guy was alive. The Egyptians learned about his immortality potion and came after him. After all, Pharaoh is god and you can’t be more powerful, or have a better afterlife, than Pharaoh. Pharaoh sought to obtain this potion.”

“Did he?”

“They caught the man. But he had hidden the potion in one of the millions of blocks of the pyramids.”

“So what happened?”

“Pharaoh ordered the man tortured until he told where the potion was. Realizing that he would spend thousands and thousands of years in pain and never die, the man escaped, vowing to spend the rest of his life in hiding. In a place where no one would ever remember him or notice his indefinite presence.”

“So he decided to scrub toilets for a living of all things?” asked the emperor.

“Well, he wanted to not be noticed. He’s been in my family for seven generations and nobody even noticed that was unusual. So yes, he succeeded in getting what he wanted.”

“So what do we do about this potion?” asked the emperor.

Marcus presented a 57-page directive. “Mister Emperor, you can read all 57 pages of this plan and take 3 years to execute it. Or you can just sign this executive order,” Marcus presented a slip of parchment to the Emperor with a quill, “and I’ll take care of it all for you.”

The emperor sighed and scratched his head, deep in thought.

“Is the potion a blessing? A curse? A threat? An asset?” he mused.

Marcus responded, “Well, we can’t govern him, because the State cannot control his life and death.[2] And we can’t execute him for treason because he can’t die.”

“Mmmmmmmm … how about this: I’m retiring next summer from my position as emperor. Why don’t you just have him take my job?”

Marcus’ jaw dropped. “Mister Emperor, you want the empire to be governed by a toilet-scrubber?!”

The emperor, wise but not shrewd, slowly replied, “Mmmmmm … yeah.”

Suddenly, Marcus, trusted but not trustworthy, pulled out a dagger and mortally stabbed the emperor. The emperor died. Marcus was shrewd but not wise. The toilet-cleaning man arrived, mixed bleach and ammonia and let the fumes spread throughout the emperor’s office. Marcus suffocated, leaving the toilet-scrubbing man still alive, coughing for breath but able to escape the toxic chemicals without dying. He opened a window for fresh air and climbed onto the balcony. Only then did he realize that, as he stood on the balcony, thousands of citizens had gathered to see the commotion. Upon his arrival in their view, they cheered on the new emperor. And all humanity lived in peace for the rest of his eternal reign.


[1] The word “republic” comes from Latin res + publica  literally meaning “public matter/thing.” See Douglas Harper, Online Etymology Dictionary, s.v. “republic,” Accessed August 8, 2017, http://www.etymonline.com/index.php
?term=republic&allowed_in_frame=0. The play on words about leaving the “public matters” to the Republic is more than just a nerd joke for those of us who like etymology and historical linguistics. It is a debate about the very nature of a republic – literally “the public thing.” How open should government be when discrete, efficient and decisive action is required? How much of public administration should be public? This dilemma is articulated in the dialogue between the emperor and his adviser Marcus.

[2] French philosopher Jacques Derrida and French historian Élisabeth Roudinesco analyzed the role of the State over the life and death of its subjects. In a way, the sovereignty of a ruler depends on his control over the life and death of his subjects - his power to execute or pardon. A matter of life and death. Fear is a threat to one’s very existence. It is this very Machiavellian fear – fear of death, fear of execution – that keeps his subjects in line. It is the very base of any monarch’s power. For example, the French Revolution was legitimized when the new regime guillotined the king. In a sense, the Revolutionary regime had control over Louis XVI’s life or death, just as, in the Ancien Régime, he had power over the life or death of his subjects. Anyone who dared challenge the authority of the king – i.e. attempt assassination – was drawn and quartered in a spectacularly painful showing of the king’s power over the life and death of his subjects. See Jacques Derrida & Élisabeth Roudinesco, For What Tomorrow … A Dialogue, Jeff Fort (Translator), (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2004), p. 144.

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A Mysterious Evening in Vienna
By John R. Teevan III
ISBN 9781548922870