Interpersonal Differences

"Shut it down! Turn it all off!"

Zakutu demanded as she marched in. But Labarna signalled with sharp gestures that her staff should do no such thing.

"Are you mad, Zakutu? Galû is on the cusp of breaking the arena kill-record. This is exactly the sort of inspirational violence the Office for Propagation of Pertinent Information exists to promote!"

As if emphasising Labarna's point, a roar of appreciation from the arena audience could be heard even through the broadcast-enginseer's headphones. Galû had just used one slave's femur to club in the head of another. Zakutu responded:

"But it's not inspirational! We at the Office for Ceremonial Calculations have studies conclusively showing that prodigious arena displays produce high levels of contentment in viewers, in the worst cases even lasting mutual good-will among fans of the same fighter. And tonight the whole damned hive is tuned in, all supporting Galû! We're projecting levels of cheerfulness not seen in Ashnan since insurgents spiked the water-supply with dopamine!"

Labarna chuckled:

"Wardum show camera 4 on main, sound on. Zakutu, take a look."

Galû was drenched in blood, snarling in incoherent fury. He picked up a jagged rock from the arena floor, and leapt - no, pounced - on to one of the slower slaves fleeing him. They'd long since dropped their weapons and could now only beg for mercy. It wasn't forthcoming.

"That's enough, sound off. Now, tell me with a straight face that decreases rage."

Zakutu couldn't deny Galû's piety; he was presently removing an opponent's fingers with his teeth. However, she pressed her point:

"Look, one very angry bloke just doesn't cut it. We're tasked with ensuring the greatest rage for the greatest number."

You don't make OPPI Technical Director without a decent head on your shoulders (and good aim); Labarna wasn't about to be deterred by a theologian's cliché.

"Galû isn't just "very angry"; he's extremely angry. The angriest. He works himself into a frenzy when in front of a crowd. How do you know the greatest rage isn't achieved by filming him do his thing?"

"Ridiculous! To offset a hive's worth of happiness he'd have to be some sort of rage-monster!"

"Oh so now the OCC weighs rage does it? You've some formula for comparing the degree of rage each person feels do you?"

Zakutu didn't have time for rebuttal, she was cut off by droning alerts from both her and Labarna's personal comms. Mashkim were en route to ensure their Offices were secure. The enraged arena crowd, and many beyond, were rioting.

"What the hell happened!?" Labarna demanded.

Wordlessly, the broadcast-enginseer replayed the most recent footage. Galû, approaching his final victim, had slipped on a previous victim's entrails. Going down he'd hit his head hard on the jagged rock he'd earlier used to brain another. Much to the audience's chagrin he thus died -- without having broken the arena-kill record. The mob sought their catharsis elsewhere.

"Well," said Labarna after a moment of silence, "that's show-business for you."