Chapter 221
January 11, 1870
Hohenzollern Castle, Garden
"One hundred eleven, one hundred twelve, one hundred thirteen…"
Ernst gritted his teeth as he counted pushups, sweat soaking through his white cotton undershirt.
"Three hundred!"
"Huh…huh…this challenge is still too much for me!" Ernst panted heavily, speaking to his trainer.
He rested both hands on his thighs, sweat pouring from his forehead. Tom promptly handed him a towel, and Ernst used it to wipe his face.
"Your Highness, just keeping it up is already impressive. The willpower you show is something the average person could hardly match," the trainer commented.
"Coach Rovitt, you flatter me. Without supervision, I'd have quit long ago. Only someone like me, who has a bit of spare change, can do such boring things," Ernst said.
Some time ago, Ernst spotted in the mirror that he'd gained weight. It was a blow. In his previous life, he'd always maintained a normal build. Now, after crossing over, living well with little exercise, he'd acquired extra flab. By year's end, he'd be twenty. His height was 178 cm, presumably not changing much anymore. He couldn't control that. Physically, his father, Prince Constantin, wasn't ugly but was quite plain, and Ernst improved on that only slightly. Being relatively young, in this era, Ernst's looks were above average, with some spirit and bearing, but not truly "handsome." On such a frame, extra weight looked unflattering. Knowing his own lack of willpower, he hired a professional to devise a weight-loss program for him.
"Your Highness, your figure is hardly bad by noble standards—no need to talk about dieting," Tom said.
"You don't get it; my aesthetic is different from the average person's. I have to like how I look. Other people's approval means nothing. I want to satisfy myself rather than blend in," Ernst answered.
Seeing him so determined, Tom didn't try again. In Tom's eyes, Ernst was punishing himself, since before the diet he looked more like Prince Constantin—steadier, at least. If Ernst had overheard this, he would have been annoyed. Constantin's "steadiness" was mostly due to weight, and his face was almost pancake-like.
…
Clang, clang… "Your Highness, Prince Constantin is calling," a servant approached Ernst in the garden to report.
Ernst waved Tom and his trainer away and entered the phone room, taking the receiver from the operator.
"Wait outside until I call you, if needed."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The operator discreetly shut the door.
"Hello, Father, what is it?"
"Ernst, I want to hear your thoughts on a matter about East Africa's population."
Hearing this, Ernst became all ears. He'd always seen population issues in East Africa as important.
"Go on, Father."
"Well, in 1869 East Africa had over 200,000 newborns. I think you know that figure. But this year we might see a new record. From the local governments' reports, we can almost confirm that this year's births may surpass 500,000!"
"Isn't that good news, Father?" Ernst asked, puzzled.
"You don't see how serious it is. Five hundred thousand is a conservative estimate—it could be six or seven hundred thousand or even more. Local statistics show that East Africa now has 1.11 million households. Subtracting those who just had a baby last year, that still leaves over nine hundred thousand. Potentially, all could have babies this year. Some families are on their second or third child. At this pace, imagine how many children East Africa might have over the next two decades."
"Yes, that is quite a lot," Ernst said, falling silent.
"It's more than a lot. If each family has at least five children in the next twenty years, combined with new immigrants, by 1890 East Africa's population is sure to pass ten million. Maybe it wouldn't even take twenty years—ten could do it."
"So what do you think we should do?"
"I was considering whether we need administrative measures to slow the birthrate."
"That's absolutely impossible!" Ernst firmly objected. "Changing people's fertility mindsets is easy, but changing them back later is difficult. We definitely can't use government controls on births."
Ernst was strongly opposed to anything like "family planning." That was partly due to his own experiences in his past life. If there had been a forced birth policy, he might never have been born at all. Even so, he'd seen his family pay heavy fines, leaving them nearly bankrupt. Then, once the country grew wealthy, it tried encouraging births but few listened. He personally never even married.
"Uh…I was just giving an opinion, since you asked," Constantin said.
"Father, if East African families want many children, let them. In twenty years, those children will have grown, and they'll be the future of East Africa. Then we won't have to worry about population. And many households are of mixed heritage, which is precisely the cradle of our new 'German' ethnicity in East Africa," Ernst explained.
"I get that you believe population is a country's foundation, and more births means a stronger foundation. But so many babies at once—education and childcare will be a huge burden, right?" Prince Constantin said.
After thinking carefully, Ernst said, "Father, the cost of raising kids in East Africa is like rural areas anywhere, not Europe. I think we can handle it. Education we do cheaply anyway. Our original reason for universal schooling was to free up labor by letting women do more work. Now that our industry is small, we don't need that many educated workers. So we can be flexible. Currently East Africa's schools are all small classes, but four or five years from now, we can switch to large classes. By then, the earlier cohorts will have graduated, and they can serve as teachers, just reading out the textbooks. No high standards required.
"And the real issue is rearing so many kids. My view is that women should become housewives, not farm laborers. Let each mother handle five or six kids— which is manageable, basically just feeding them. For the missing agricultural workers, we'll use Africans to fill the gap!"
In other words, "laborers." East Africa's black slaves are all adult males, so they aren't allowed to reproduce freely. They exist only for one generation, working farmland so East Africa can support these large families. Once East Africa's newborn generation grows up, that's also when the "tools" retire. It's cruel, but with no better mechanical solutions, they'll just have to "make the Africans suffer." Ernst promises that once better technology arrives, East Africa will repay these "contributing people" by sending them back "home."
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