“Do we have the Brillist editorial yet?” Vivien asked, plunging into his favorite sofa in the center of the octagonal, screen-walled room.
Toshi shook her head. “Just the list. I talked to the Headmaster themself as well as the editor; they promised it within two hours.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. Bring up the full grid.”
The walls obeyed. Shall we play a little game here, reader? First you read the Seven-Ten lists, then I shall read your mind and tell you in what order you read them, which you heeded and which you skimmed. You think I can’t do it? The Censor would not call on me if I did not have some little skill at prophecy. Try me. Read naturally, skipping what you choose, not forcing yourself to study every name just so you can scoff: Thou underestimatest me, Mycroft—I am unbiased and skim nothing. It is not natural to study all with equal keenness, reader. Men only read every line of a contract so they may boast about it later. Read what you will—even the Censor reads only what he will.
Are you done yet? Then I shall begin. If, reader, you are my near contemporary then you looked first for your own Hive in every list, smiling as you see your fortunes rise, scowling as foreign papers underrate you. Next, you read in full the list of your Hive’s native paper, then the omni-Hive opinions of The Romanov, and the Anonymous (whether you agree or disagree with the Anonymous, you must know what the weightiest voice in politics believes). After that you reviewed Black Sakura, which history’s spotlight has turned into the “protagonist” of papers. The others you skimmed, noting only conspicuous changes: those who rate Cousin Chair Kosala above the Anonymous, or who raise Brillist Headmaster Felix Faust above the seventh line. And if you are not yourself a Brillist, then you turned last, and grudgingly, perhaps after you began to read this paragraph, to read the Brillist list, for you cannot in good conscience admit that you trust a stranger above the leading commentator of your own Hive, but neither can you pretend that you do not believe the Brillist Institute think tank is a greater oracle even than myself.
And if I am not thy contemporary, Mycroft? you ask. If I am posterity instead, gazing back from centuries after these ‘days of transformation’ thou describest? Then, reader, the list you rely on is the last. You skimmed the rest, eye catching on celebrities: the Emperor, Hotaka Andō Mitsubishi, those already familiar from my tale, while the rest blurred until the final list, for Shanghai Daily is the only paper so courteous to the future as to list the Hive names beside their leaders. If my Hives are to you as antiquated as the feudal system is to me, you must not fear that you will understand less of the story because you are not fluent in the names and ranks of my dead age; comfort yourself that these attempts to name the ten most influential people in our world are, in point of fact, all wrong, and that you see the clearer without the nearsightedness of a contemporary. You know already one name which should be on all these lists, but never could be: Bridger.
“I don’t like what I’m seeing with the Mitsubishi.” Su-Hyeon flopped beside the Censor on the fur-soft couches at the chamber’s center. “It’s never happened before that a Hive fell a notch on every other list but rose in their own primary journal. It looks like self-obsession, rating themselves so high when everyone agrees they’ve slipped, and, with the theft bringing everyone’s attention to Black Sakura, the effect will be amplified.”
Vivien nodded, the sofa’s texture ruffling his slim dreadlocks, which fall in a shell around his head just to the shoulders, semi-stiff, like the living surface of a willow tree. “The Anonymous rated the Mitsubishi under Felix Faust this year, and there are no Mitsubishi names in the bottom three on any non-Mitsubishi list.”
Su-Hyeon frowned. “It’s embarrassing. It’ll lower Sam Neung in everybody’s eyes.” Su-Hyeon uses the Korean name for the Mitsubishi. “They fell one notch on the lists this year, but with that it’ll be as if they fell three.”
No one beats Vivien Ancelet’s poker face. “Toshi, what do you think?”
Toshi paused a moment to compose her answer. “I don’t think it’ll be that grim, not with the theft making Black Sakura seem important. One notch down, that’s what the public will think.”
The Censor stroked the gold piping of his purple sleeve as an old sage strokes his beard. “Mycroft? What are you thinking?”
I had paused to strip off my uniform jacket before the scent of sewage made too much headway in the room. “I think everyone hates Prime Minister Perry,” I began. “I think the public knows Europe would be higher on all the lists if they had a more popular leader, that Europe’s influence is greater than Perry’s is. Black Sakura included Crown Prince Leonor in their bottom three instead of King Isabel Carlos to remind everyone that the next generation is coming. I think everyone will read Europe as a notch or two above wherever Perry’s name appears, which puts the Masons, Cousins, and Europeans all above the Mitsubishi on most lists, even the Humanists on some. The Mitsubishi will come off as the weakest of the big five this year, by a long shot.”
“Probably…” The Censor held us in suspense, taking a long, deep breath. “You know, any of the three of you at ten years old could have impersonated Tsuneo Sugiyama better than whoever Hagiwara got to write this Seven-Ten list.”
“Impersonate?” Su-Hyeon’s eyes went wide. “Who’s Hagiwara?”
“Black Sakura’s editor.” Vivien Ancelet knows every reporter worth his salt. “Whom I wouldn’t have called an idiot before today. Didn’t want to disappoint the readership, I guess, probably strong-armed some unsuspecting intern into writing it, but step one of faking a star reporter’s article is telling said star reporter not to message their entire gaming club to say they’re taking the week off.”
Toshi Mitsubishi had gone very quiet, and very stiff. It was me she stared at, and I stared back, each of us uncertain what the other had learned from her bash’parents at Tōgenkyō. I did not know Toshi well. I knew her intellect and skill, but not the human side of her, how close she was to Masami among her many ba’sibs. If I had had my tracker, I would have called Chief Director Andō to ask permission to discuss the truth. But Toshi is stern stuff, and spoke first. “It has to come out. Masami wrote the list. My ba’sib.”
The Censor released a slow, hissing sigh, like a punctured balloon. “The Chief Director’s ba’kid … This is going to be a firestorm.” A deep breath. “I want to see numbers. Su-Hyeon, run what’ll happen if the Mitsubishi fall to the bottom of the big five. Mycroft, do a precedent check, see if there’s ever been a confidence shift this abrupt. Look especially at the 2380s, right before the Greenpeace-Mitsubishi merger.”
Su-Hyeon’s eyes widened. “You think there’ll be a Hive merger?”
“No, but some of these numbers feel familiar, and my gut says it’s from then. I’ll comb older records, see if I can figure out what I’m remembering. Toshi—” He froze mid-order, catching sight of her face, her trembling lip. “I’m sorry. Nothing can stop this being hard on your bash’, but at least we’ve caught it a bit before the public. Do you need a minute?”
She turned to the screens. “No. I’ll run the Mitsubishi internal numbers, see which way Wenzhou is likely to swing if the Beijing and Shanghai blocs both try for the Chief Director’s seat.”