Page 44 of Dark Princess: Shadows
She had to know how such a thing had been allowed and whether it was still practiced.
Focusing all her will on opening her eyes, she pushed against the weight that seemed to press her lids down.
"The First Amendment, for example, protects freedom of speech, religion, and assembly," he was saying. "These weren't just abstract concepts. They were hard-won rights that the founders knew were essential for a free society."
Of course they were. Even when they were still slaves to the gods, the Kra-ell had been allowed to practice their own religion, and they could speak freely, even against the gods. The two things they had not been allowed were access to advanced technology and higher education, which would enable them to create their own advanced technology.
Although, to be fair, even if the gods had not limited the Kra-ell's access to education, she doubted there would have been many takers. The Kra-ell liked to roam free, hunt, and quarrel among themselves.
They were not studious people.
Did the storyteller know all that?
Oh, how she wished to discuss those things with him, to see what he looked like, and maybe indulge in some of those things her mother had told her she should.
He was such an interesting male.
Concentrating all her will on lifting her eyelids, Morelle didn't really expect them to respond, and when they did so, she was euphoric even though she managed to lift them only a fraction. Light pierced her vision, but all she could make out was a wall. She didn't see her fascinating storyteller, and the effort drained her, but she felt triumphant.
It was the first voluntary movement she'd managed since becoming aware of her surroundings, and if she could do that, she could do more once she gathered her energy again.
"The Second Amendment was about maintaining militia for the common defense," he continued, unaware of her small victory. "Though its interpretation has been debated ever since..."
He hadn't seen her crack her eyes open, hadn't witnessed her victory.
Disappointment washed over Morelle.
She wanted to see his face, to match a physical presence to the voice that had become her companion in this twilight state.
Was he young or old?
Did his features reflect the wisdom and knowledge he shared so eloquently?
Did his eyes light up with passion when he spoke of human history and progress?
"The Constitution became a model for democratic governments around the world," he said. "Even today, it continues to guide and shape our society."
Drained by the effort of lifting her eyelids, even for that tiny fraction of a moment, she was starting to drift away. Morelle wanted to fight it and keep listening to the fascinating story, but exhaustion was pulling her under.
Perhaps after she'd rested and gathered her strength, she could try again.
29
BRANDON
Brandon took a sip of water from his personalStar Warsbottle and put it back down on the floor. "I wish you could tell me what you think about my stories, Princess. I don't know which ones you like more and which ones you like less. History or fiction, politics or romance, I can talk about any subject on the face of the planet, not expertly, but well enough to be entertaining."
That was a slight exaggeration since his knowledge of the sciences was limited, and he lacked even the terminology to describe them. Brandon was a humanities guy, so to speak. He was well versed in history, and his love of stories had made him a life-long reader. He read everything from abstract philosophy to raunchy romances, and his memory for stories seemed almost limitless. He wasn't like Shai, and he didn't remember all the details, but he remembered the essence of the drama.
A good, memorable story always had drama, even if it strived to be funny.
His voice, filtered through the teardrop device and translated into Kra-ell, filled the silence as he finished his explanation about the Constitution.
Why had he chosen that seemingly boring subject? It had been on a hunch that the daughter of a queen who had once started a rebellion would be interested in political structures. He might be wrong, of course, and perhaps Morelle detested everything that had to do with politics. He wouldn't know until she woke, and he could ask her in person.
"I'll keep telling you stories until you're ready to join the conversation and tell me what you want to listen to. There's so much more to share just about American history, and then there is world history, of which I have only told you bits and pieces…"
He trailed off as a strange sensation washed over him. The air in the room suddenly felt different somehow, charged with energy he couldn't explain. The medical equipment continued its steady rhythm of beeps and whirs, and Morelle lay as still as ever, only the rise and fall of her chest providing visual proof of her being alive.