Thessalonike, 1110

"What does illegitimate mean?" asked the little boy.

"Huh? Um," stumbled Markianos Ampelas, "it's, uh, well, eh... something that is... not legitimate. So, it's... something that's not officially recognized... by law." He paused to look at a boy with an unsatisfied curiosity. "Run along and play then."

So the boy did run off, and Markianos slumped in his seat.

"At least he didn't ask what a bastard was," he said to himself.

He laughed. It was funny. Sort of. It was funny in that way where it's not funny at all, where it's, in fact, so far in the opposite direction from funny that the only thing you can do is to laugh that half-insane, half-dejected laugh.

He sat on a bench outside of a building in the moderately poor, but not so poor to be dangerous, part of Thessalonike. It was daylight, and children were playing in the street. At this time, the half-insane bit had increased to somewhat past two-thirds, so he decided to get philosophical.

"The problem with politics," he said, probably to a bum who sat on the ground near him, although equally probably just to himself, or maybe even to some other himself, as that two-thirds-insane bit may well have been closer to three-quarters by now.

"The problem with politics," he said again, maybe just to emphasize the point, or maybe because the narrator had gotten off on a tangent last time, and there would have been too much crap between two parts of a split statement. He didn't like the new narrator, and wondered whatever happened to the old one.

"The problem with politics," he said, (and that's all he did), "is that you are supposed to be a moral, upstanding, and noble citizen, and that you must associate yourself with likewise people."

"The second problem with politics is that nobody is and does."

"The third problem with politics is political opponents."

"The problem with the third problem is that it would use the combination of the first and second problems against you."

"The solution to the problem with the third problem is to keep your second problem secret."

"The problem with the solution to the problem with the third problem is..." he paused, "well, there is a great multitude of problems with it." He sighed.

After a short and (insanely) thoughtful pause, he continued.

"Really, the chief problem is that all the interesting people are in the lower classes. And that they murder, steal, and do all sorts of other 'improper' things. Or they used to, but the third problem wouldn't much care for the distinction."

"And the problem with religion is that priests don't like secrets."

"And that," he said with a grin, satisfied at his logical deduction process, "is how bastards are born."

He sat in silence for a moment while the three-quarters-insane bit reduced to about one-third, while the one-quarter-dejected one increased to fill the gap. He stood and tossed a coin to the bum.

"There you go. Get some lunch and enjoy it, you lucky sod. I have a Senate session to get to."

He walked into the building and walked out after about a quarter of an hour, and walked off toward the fancy part of town, leaving a rather lovely young lady in tears at the door.