Panem et Circenses
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  faust1173
Additional material by  eocostello



‘M’ paused partway through the file sent to her by the Ministry of Justice. The Ministry had routed an inquiry to the minkess regarding the case of a family on Belyayev; the child, six years old, had been given a Kashlanin first name, and was being bullied. For some reason, the Ministry had forwarded it to her.

She activated her desktop and began to speak. “From the Director to Minister Foster: Why was this sent to me?” she asked, words appearing on the desk’s glossy surface. “There are established protocols for this, as you well know. The parent who named the child gets six months of re-education, and the child gets a Terran name. If the parents can’t – or won’t – admit to naming the child, the child goes to one of the military-sponsored orphanages with a new name, and both parents go to the camps for six months.” Her tail swished and she added, “Make sure that they choose a properly patriotic name for the child, and don’t bother me again with such trivia unless you want your Ministry investigated.” Her fingertip poked at the desk.

Her response was appended to the file, and she sent it back to the Justice Minister with a contemptuous flick of a finger.

Idiot.

The next file came from the Ministry of Information, which superintended the information and entertainment networks within the Terran Sphere. Part of Intelligence’s remit was to periodically look and listen in on what was being shown to the general population.

The Interstellar Broadcasting Corporation was the largest network, and as its logo of a number 4 superimposed over a golden starburst appeared, ‘M’ allowed herself a smile. IBC always proclaimed itself as “4 Terra,” which was properly chauvinist, but with a longtime emphasis on frivolous entertainments that usually had people referring to it as “4 Morons.”

The ongoing conflict with the Kashlani and the Colonies had forced a major shift in programming. IBC was privately owned, and it had taken a variety of blandishments and outright threats by the Minform to agree to adopt a more patriotic tone.

An example of the result was the news broadcast News at Nineteen, obviously shown at 1900 Terran Standard Time. It was a very sober program, and unusually it told both good and bad news. The bad news was, however, carefully worded and tailored to inspire greater efforts. They were the first network after the Minform to describe the Confed government’s ‘sacrifice’ of Wolf 359 as “a complete victory.” But that was what made the broadcast effective: it appeared to tell the truth, even when it wasn't. This particular night, the top story displayed the widow of the hero of Wolf 359 as she visited a factory complex and gave a very effective speech.

That fact brought another smile. None of the Confed ships at Wolf had been larger than a frigate, and all had been under remote control; still, to muzzle discontent, a hero was required.

Enter Captain Akekho Stefan, a hyena who had served in the Confed Fleet for thirty years. Despite wounds from Kashlanin weapons fire, he turned his ship toward the red dwarf star, screamed “For Terra!” and dove into Wolf 359, destroying the majority of two Kashlanin fleets as well as the star and everything around it.

Of course, he didn’t exist.

His wife was a beautiful femme, and their children, ages six and three, were adorable. Their presence at Captain Akekho’s memorial service had galvanized public opinion. It was perfect, and the temper of the civilians who had worked around Wolf 359 was effectively turned from resentment toward the central government to ardent patriotism – at least, so the AInet said.

Reality was somewhat different, of course, and ‘M’ knew it. Hyperspace for a radius of a light-year around where the red dwarf was once located would be hazardous to navigate for an estimated two years, and several industrial combines had seen their stock portfolios plunge on the Bourse after the news was announced. That plunge had spread wider and wider before the Finance Ministry AIs called a halt to trading until things calmed down.

Still, General Parsons had Sol System’s police forces on standby alert, just in case. It was a move that the minkess approved of.

IBC’s AI was, for some reason, called Ababhali Abathathu, and its most recent programming on the network was titled Secret Service Fur. It featured a feline named Stanislaus Coon, an agent of an entirely fictional branch of Intelligence, with a free paw to advance Terra’s interests along the frontier between the Confed and the Kashlani. Portrayed as a raffish daredevil, Coon piloted a small, warp-capable ship named the Rocinante and was accompanied by a very attractive wolfess who always wore skintight leather (a possible reason for the show’s popularity). He was noted for always managing to escape both Kashlanin fingerclaws and the paws of traitorous Colonial counterintelligence officers.

The first episode of the series described how Coon had been sent after a traitor named Wilk before he succeeded in delivering secret information to the Empire. After a long chase, Coon and his companion caught up with Wilk, forced him down and killed him before skillfully evading an entire flotilla of Imperial ships.

Of course, ‘M’ knew the truth behind Coon, now languishing in a Colonial prisoner of war facility. Still, heroes were needed, even if they had no inkling that they were being used.

The minkess quirked an eyebrow at one show that had been sent to her for possible action. DHC Productions, the company that created the long-running program Monsoon Poultry Hospital, had recently begun a plot that the censor felt was coming very close to the line between storytelling and sedition; namely, an elderly shlan, a kam, and his family had been brought into the hospital with an exotic (to Terrans) illness. The script explored the feelings of the various characters, balanced against the series’ longstanding philosophy of caring for anyone regardless of their species.

‘M’ frowned.

“Inform the production company for Monsoon Poultry Hospital that they are not displaying a proper level of patriotic spirit,” she said briskly, “and they would be well advised to find a less controversial story to tell.” The message was duly transmitted, and the minkess moved on to the next item.

A comedy written by a co-op network based on Centauri caused her to tap her claws against the desktop in irritation. It's That Mink Again starred a washed-up old comedian who was likely thanking Deus to have a job, much less material that was better than anything he’d had at the height of his career. He was in charge of the "Ministry of Mystery," which poked fun at just about all the mistakes and inconveniences of the war. While it skirted around the censors, ‘M’ assessed it as fairly harmless, her irritation solely because of its portrayal of minks.

Somehow or other, a privately-run network on Afrodite had managed the feat of persuading a number of other, larger networks to loan some leading dramatic, comedic and musical stars to a show titled Command Performance. It purported to be a show where the "furs of the fleet" get to "call on Terra's biggest stars to fill their requests." The “furs of the fleet” all appeared to be authentic and a mixture of personnel from various units throughout the military, not just the Fleet. The short sample of one performance was, she had to admit, rather good.

The minkess suppressed a yawn, sent the Minform file back, and shut down her desktop prior to leaving for her quarters.