A Visitor to the Future - 82 - A Drunken Philosopher

Away from the relative quiet of the balcony, Tungsten walked with me around the party-goers. He'd heard of some of them from Sarkona previously, and was glad to be putting faces to names. The majority of people that Sarkona knew seemed to be involved in Bio-development but there were also sculptors, programmers, academics, and even one who completely refused to classify himself as a member of a single profession, a self-proclaimed jack of all trades, master of none.

The living room was quite packed, and true to Regolith's word Gatecrash and Dela had claimed the sofa, with Dela contentedly enjoying the attention from two different people. As I looked on, however, there seemed to be a sudden change in Gatecrash's behaviour as the CI sprang up from the sofa with a strange expression of irritation on their face. I watched as they crossed the floor towards Chisom, whispered something into their ear, and then left the room. Chisom moved to the sofa and took Gatecrash's place, her hand gently rubbing Dela's fur as the lynx's head tracked Gatecrash leaving the room.

We found Sarkona in the kitchen, in mid conversation with a lanky gentleman who easily stood seven feet tall, a champagne glass in his hand. His dark, curly hair cascaded down to the bottom of his neck. He looked quite intoxicated.

"No, no, you don't get what I'm saying!" the man said, "I'm saying it was inevitable!"

"I understand that!" said Sarkona, "But I don't get why you're saying it was inevitable. We might want to resume this conversation when you're feeling more sober. I didn't think it was possible to get this drunk off synthetic champagne!"

"How dare you!" said the man in mock offence, "I may be a bit drunk, but I am still a bit drunk master of political philosophy, thank you very much."

Sarkona spied us and I could swear I saw a momentary instant of relief upon their features. "Ah, you two! Have you met my friend Stamos Eliopoulos? Here, I'll leave you to get acquainted. I'm not quite in the mood for political philosophy today." Sarkona speedily left the kitchen.

"Yes, hello," said Stamos, indicating a bottle and some glasses, "Have you tried this champagne? It's very good."

"I don't have the capacity to taste it," said Tungsten, approaching the kitchen counter, "But I will get myself a glass to smell. May I ask what you were discussing with Sarkona?"

"You may! I was saying that I've just written a paper about inevitability. Oh! Perhaps you may have some insight, considering your almost unique perspective," he said, pointing towards me, "Do you think this was all inevitable?"

"I think you've lost me," I said, "Inevitable?"

"The Consortium!" said Stamos, now slightly leaning to the left, "My paper argues that it was the natural result of changing socio-economic, political, and scientific prerequisites for research. What say you? Did the people of your time think this was how things would turn out?"

"I'm not sure how knowledgeable I am on the subject," I said, "But in a word, no. There were times where I thought things would end up much darker."

"Ah, but are things not always darkest before the dawn, or however that saying goes?" Said Stamos. He was now leaning to the right.

"Stamos," said Tungsten, now holding his poured glass of champagne in front of his head to smell it, "You do know this is classical champagne, right? Old alcohol, not the substitutes?"

Stamos glared at Tungsten and blinked entirely too many times before responding, "Well, I guess that explains why I'm very drunk indeed." He immediately put his glass on the side and leaned against the counter for support. "But still - I feel I must address this. Is a political system that the people can trust not an inevitable consequence, when the stakes of liberty, scientific progress, and discovery are on the line?"

"It didn't feel like it in my time," I said, pulling out a stool from under the countertop for the drunken philosopher, "We had problems with corruption, unfair voting systems - even no voting systems in many places. I remember reading the news some days and feeling a sort of rage at what was going on. I've been in a mixture of amazement and disbelief since I awoke from cryocontainment. Sometimes I think that it can't be real."

Stamos sat on the chair that I offered slowly, his high centre of gravity working against his balance. Tungsten steadied him. "I hadn't particularly considered a historical perspective. My paper was very focused on a modern interpretation. Might I depend upon you for an interview?" He hiccupped loudly. "I suspect later, not now."

"Of course," I said.

Tungsten took me to one side, grabbing the open champagne bottle and placing it in one of the kitchen cupboards. "This probably should have been better labelled as an old champagne formula," he said, "He got through a fair amount of the bottle. Listen, go mingle, I'll stay with Stamos until he's feeling better."

"You sure?" I said, "I'm happy to stay."

"Think nothing of it," said Tungsten, "I'll order some anti-intoxicants for Stamos. He'll be right as rain in half an hour, then I'll go back to mingling. Go enjoy yourself!"


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