Phaetarch of Isara. Earth. New York.
Isara harbored a deep-seated dislike for Earth. Racism was one of the reasons. Despite her exotic appearance, genetics tracing back to the ancient Egyptians, she nonetheless looked out of place even in cosmopolitan New York. The Urvashi colony was only a thousand years old, and Isara's origins remained a mystery. But the most important thing was her demeanor. Even though the court etiquette of Louis XIV didn't exist on her home planet, a ruler must exude unwavering, absolute confidence in their decisions. Only then can one achieve obedience and faith in the outcome.
Today, she entered a Manhattan building. The entire building belonged to Szareh and served as the office of a firm that provided cover for "alien" activities on Earth. Similar organizations existed in Central America and elsewhere. Only the USSR remained a nearly impenetrable bastion for them, where conducting intelligence operations was extremely difficult. Sometimes, only Egeria, whose body served as a refuge for the war heroine, was able to do so.
Isara winced as she entered the central office. Humans and their smoking habits irritated her to the core, especially when the smoke filled every room, leaving behind a foul odor. Another reason for her hatred of Earth. She longed for her peaceful planet, free from the endless battles for the rights of women, blacks, and other minorities. For a normal person raised on Urvashi, this was incomprehensible. Where men died in the naquadah mines, all the responsibilities fell to women, and with responsibilities came rights.
Imagine: bandits break into your home or village, and you have to fight back, otherwise you'll be robbed, raped, and killed. Order existed solely by right of might. This situation (along with the absence of religious dogmatism) forged the character of the inhabitants of the remote corners of Urvashi. Therefore, people tried not to express their opinions about anyone, for fear of getting punched in the jaw. Although gays and lesbians were a rare exotica on Urvashi, no one even thought of "oppressing" them. The most obvious reason was that you could simply be beaten for it. The cult of "gods" was so strong that the Urvashi people professed a unique form of atheism. Therefore, there was little "forbidden" in society unless it posed a direct social threat. The land, however, was a constant headache, and nationalism was one of its most sophisticated forms.
Isara theoretically understood the essence of this phenomenon. After all, she ruled an entire continent, and people living a hundred kilometers apart could consider each other strangers. Unless, of course, they were a traveling medic or a squad of soldiers guarding against bandits. With the arrival of Szareh and the implementation of transport rings, the unification of the planet accelerated. People could now travel, see how people lived in other cities and corners of the world. But Earthly nationalism had taken a perverted, militaristic form. As a result, different peoples hated each other for absurd reasons. And then there were those churches, grafted onto the state. The latest data from Quebec was simply horrifying. The church in an entire region had replaced the Ministry of Education; nuns were teaching children instead of professional teachers. It seemed that every country was going crazy in its own way: China with its degenerate Mao, the USSR with Stalin, the USA with McCarthy, and now Canada. It felt like only the Central Latin American countries had a shred of common sense. All that was left was to expel that United Food company from the region.
"Michael!" As she spoke, an assistant entered the office.
— Yes, Miss Isara.
"Neither I, nor Szarekh, and especially not Egeria, smoke. Where does that tobacco smell come from in this office?" Everyone knew how much she hated that smell and was ready to burn down every tobacco factory on the planet with an orbital bombardment. She expected to at least be able to breathe normally in her office while working on Earth. Besides, she was allergic to tobacco: just a few minutes in the presence of a smoker would make her dizzy.
- Sorry, there were problems with the wiring, an electrician came.
"So, couldn't you have given him an extra hundred dollars to stop smoking?" the woman replied irritably. "One day, your entire race will die of lung cancer. I hope it happens sooner rather than later, and this product doesn't become popular in the galaxy."
— Yes, Miss Isara.
"Why can't everyone be like Einstein?" she grumbled, remembering the extremely positive old man, a luminary of physics and, at the same time, an incredibly friendly person.
She could work from her office without visiting that damned planet. But someone from the Tetrarchy had to be here to conduct the negotiations. And she also needed to personally speak with the leaders of the countries under Szarekh's control. Negotiating the supply of Earth goods was especially crucial. A lot was required, and a responsible person was needed for it.
For example, Szareh funded several environmental projects to preserve species that "stupid humans" couldn't reach—take elephants, for example. Pushing the elephants through the gate would be a difficult task, but it would give them a chance to live normally. There's an uninhabited continent on Urvashi where they could live without human interference. Earthlings have abused them too much.
There were other projects, particularly archaeological ones: a detailed catalog of everything found in Egypt and elsewhere, looking for Goa'uld technology or texts attesting to the Empire's visit to Earth, was required. Several archaeologists, privy to the secret, were working on this, and they were prepared to excavate half the planet. The Tollans also had a small research base on Earth, numbering about a hundred people. They also hated Earth, but after all, they had to study the place where their race originated.
The topic of racism was too irritating. And then there was the issue of gender inequality. Isara had lost count of how many people she'd had to "suppress," using all the restraint and power she possessed as ruler. The idiot who constantly tried to buy the land beneath this house was especially annoying. All the planets connected to the Tetrarchy were less stressful than Earth alone, and trying to keep abreast of all the important affairs on this planet. All that was left was to buy a few useful books, work for a couple of days, and head home. Unless, of course, World War III killed her, or McCarthy caught Isara, thinking she was a communist.
"Phaetarch." Michael peered into her office. "FBI agents are at the door."
She rolled her eyes and then turned off the computer.
— What do these bastards want? Oh, okay, he's alone?
— Yes.
- Take me to my office.
A man wearing a coat and hat entered the office. He looked like a cliché—a stereotype.
"What do I owe you?" she asked rudely.
"Will you stand up to greet the FBI agent?" asked a tall, clean-shaven white man with perfect features.
"I need to work. I'm self-employed, not fully supported by the state. Considering you don't have a warrant, I'm curious why you came to see me."
"Agent Bill Waldbrook." He sank unceremoniously into a chair and took out a cigarette case.
"I can't stand the smell of tobacco. Don't smoke in my office," Isara said firmly. The man ignored her, took out a cigarette, lit it with a lighter, and blew the smoke straight into her face. The phaetarch's eyes narrowed, becoming even more like a gunsight.
"That's bad, Isara Gunther. This country has given you everything, and you repay it with utter ingratitude."
"This country has given me nothing," Isara retorted. "The foundation of the capitalist world order is that the state owes nothing to its citizens, and that citizens must achieve everything themselves. It's a communist tenet that the state must give something. I wonder if your leadership knows about your secret views?"
These words made the agent choke on smoke and stare into the eyes not of a frightened woman, but of a determined and vicious predator whose mustache he had just tugged.
"You shouldn't be insolent to those who wield far more power than you, my dear. So agree to sell the land, and that's it. Otherwise, you'll be in trouble." Another puff of smoke.
Isara didn't care about the building at all. It was only necessary for the functioning of her intelligence and commercial networks. But he smoked in her office, so Agent Waldbrook will not be forgiven. And the idiot who sent him—she will crush them both. And he called her "honey."
"I'm just curious, what does capitalist ideals say about bribing federal employees?" Isara said sarcastically, leaning back in her chair. "I'm just curious, how much do you get paid for this kind of trouble?"
"I want you out of here in a week. Otherwise, you're in real trouble." He stubbed out his cigarette on her desk and left.
A very nervous Michael entered Isara's office and, for good measure, crossed himself. What he saw wasn't the usual state of mind for the ruler of over thirty million people; it was a barely contained force of nature. The former sergeant walked carefully to the desk, swept his cigarette butt and ashes into the ashtray, and began to walk away just as slowly.
— Do I look so bad that they can send the mafia and corrupt federal agents after me?
Michael sighed. The mafia members who dared threaten her were shot by the Zetas, and even their bodies were dematerialized.
"Ma'am, with all due respect, you're no more than twenty-five. The official line is that you're the daughter of a British soldier and an Egyptian woman. Henry Gunther's wife is your husband's cover, and in his absence, no one takes you seriously. They don't know you're the descendant of a dynasty that once ruled an entire planet. And you yourself rule several planets while Szarekh builds an army. Usually, women would agree to anything, especially when faced with the threat of a federal agent."
"This land isn't that important to me; secrecy is more important than personal feelings. I'll sell this land," Michael exhaled. He expected her to call the SAS to carry out a couple of assassinations. "Sell it. However, he smoked in my office; his life will be destroyed."
The man realized: her dislike of tobacco was serious. She could ask Egeria to create a virus that would wipe out all tobacco on the planet!
"And yes... bring me some orange juice," Isara, though she drank coffee, and quite good quality at that, still preferred fruit juices. Despite the nanites protecting her body, it was still best not to be decadent. She didn't care for alcohol, especially after it had completely worn off. Isara even wondered if she looked like a puritan on par with Queen Victoria. It was clear that Szarekh was a puritan compared to any Goa'uld, even Egeria.
From the perspective of the phaetarch Urvashi, Earth suffered from acute schizophrenia for most of its history. Earth is a rotting corpse that wants to appear alive by applying a sufficient layer of powder. Just like in Quebec, the Catholic Church wants to appear a bastion of morality, although they are merely a concentration camp for children. The examples of the nuns of Quebec, the concentration camp guards, and the damned Unit 731 all showed how easy it is to become a moral monster. And how difficult it is to be a true humanist. Szarekh didn't care at all that he received Hasar Station and five Hattaks from the Asgard; he rejoiced at having saved billions.
A humanist pretending to be an asshole, and a horde of assholes pretending to be humanists. Not that it's strange—not everyone on Urvashi is a saint. No, on the contrary, they simply believe in their own strength, their power, and their intelligence. This goes back to the time when men died in the naquadah mines, and their mothers became the force. Isara's family descended from Goa'uld scribes who managed day-to-day affairs, but she sensed her people, their strength. As did the rot of Earth—the homeland of the human race, which is obsessed with killing itself. That's why the aliens need audiovisual monitoring of the offices of powerful countries' leaders to prevent them from completely destroying the planet. Still, no matter how much she hates Earth, there are good people here, and she is Szarekh's favorite toy. And many of Earth's inventions helped her people before her husband discovered nanites. For this she is grateful and will help in times of need, even despite the smoking FBI agents.
The entire Earth was permeated with the concept of faith; everyone believed in something, even atheists. Communism, capitalism, nationalism, Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, or other socialist variations. The first thing any ruler did was simply form a new religion. No matter how logical it was, everything operated according to the laws of religion, where those below are not allowed to question those above. Of course, she herself used this tactic, convincing people to believe Szarekh, because if she didn't, he would start bombing the planet. At least, that's what she thought. Fear came first, and then he backed up his words with action, and faith was no longer necessary.
The only people on Urvashi who have blind faith are the Jaffa, and for this, Szarekh despises them. Surely the leaders of these countries are both delighted and disdainful of the docile brutes who fail to notice how those who lead them to a "bright future" gain power comparable to that of the Goa'uld. If you think about it, the power of Stalin or Mao is beyond even what a Goa'uld, so invested in their "divinity," could achieve. It's truly astonishing how any fool on this planet can create an image of themselves as divine, and people will believe it. Or is this a rule for the entire human race?