How did the CRC respond when he handed over everything he owned, everything he had, even himself, to the CRC, openly apologized, and offered to face the consequences of his past? And how do his people react to know that he has learned the error of his ways, and wants to undo the harm he had done?
@internutter/challenge-03092-h184-ozymandius-syndrome -- Anon Guest
All it had taken was one bigger shark, and one chain of chance to make a subjective saint into a sinner. It had taken that much to open his eyes to the active and actual truth. For instance, the reason why avarice is one of the deadlier sins in most doctrines.
Recovering from the sin of not knowing all the Sharky ways, and finding the kindness of strangers stunningly simple. Howell Troyus IV needed, and those down at the bottom shared what little they had to spare.
There's always room for improvement, said a stranger. So Howell... improved. He deliberately sought out the Cogniscent Rights Committee and turned himself in. Replete with residual holdings and a semi-coherent report of what the bigger shark had done to him.
They were very surprised to hear what he had to say. "You're doing what?"
"I'm resigning as CEO of Troyus Planetary Holdings, Incorporated. I am ceding control of my planets and polity to you. Y'all seem to know how to manage it better anyhow. I've seen what it's like under my reign. I ain't no good. Do what you will to me. I deserve it."
What the CRC did to him was just as shocking as his fall from grace. They gave him a Standard Residence in a CRC education facility and walked him gently through both therapy and re-education. Mental and physical rehabilitation with a smattering of marketable skills on the side.
Howell was surprised to learn that he quite enjoyed cooking for himself. It was amazing. Cooking generally happened by way of other people, until his change of fate. After a few classes in Essential Skills, he could make a salad from his garden and cook a tube-grown steak to perfection. He even learned to fry an egg just the way he liked it.
From there, he branched out, trying everything in every cookbook he could find. The meat, when he used it, was cloned or cultured. Honestly, he couldn't tell the difference between it and the stuff he used to spend Years on[1].
Working in the CRC Charity Kitchens was a weekly treat. He could have several things going at once and he actually made an honest sweat as he earned a living.
"Someone wants the chef," said Kaz, one of the waitstaff.
Shit. He was sure he hadn't messed up anything he'd made. He was getting good at things. He followed Kaz out of the steaming hell of the kitchens and its plumes of flame to the purgatory of customer dissatisfaction.
"I knew it was him," said someone at the table. Someone he didn't know. They leaped up from their chair to rush and tackle him in an enthusiastic hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" They were crying. Dancing. Squeezing half the air out of him.
"Of... course...?" he managed. "What did I do besides make a decent meal?"
They at last put him down. "The day you handed over Troyus to the CRC was the best day of my life. We were homeless and doomed to die until you did that. The CRC took us into homes and gave us food and taught us things we thought we'd never learn."
"Same here, honestly," he said. Stunned. Once upon a time, he might have been offended to learn that the best thing he could do for the largest amount of people was to resign. "I'm glad your life is better, now."
He truly was. That was the miracle of Alliance-think. He really was glad that someone he used to own was doing much better now.
[1] In the Galactic Alliance, time is money. Literally.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / manera]
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