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After seeing Cayce's poll on the bulletin board and much flicking through the notes he had already made on the park, Beaufort still found himself rather unable to answer some of the questions asked. Simply because most of them struck him as a lot more complicated as ticking a box. This reminded him that there were certain people who he needed to talk to on the subject on politics and the park. Notebly, historical figures.

Again, written on Ministerial paper.

Dear Mr Adams,

I must confess I am only writing because Mr Crowley mentioned your name and your reputation does precede you. At first, I was only going to ask if you had any books on political philosophy, but after much thought, I was wondering if you would be interested in meeting, perhaps for coffee, to discuss how it could, or could not, be possible to relate some of the ideas in political philosophy to the way this park works. I only ask you, as I must concede that you will know more about philosophy and how the park works than I do, simply because you probably have more first hand experience of the application of philosophy than I do, and because I have only been here a short time.

I do understand if you don't want to, as I haven't actually met you yet, but it would be my pleasure.

Yours sincerely,
Jean-Etienne Beaufort

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Faintly surprised to be receiving a letter from a stranger on French governmental letterhead, John was gracious in his reply.

Dear Sir,

I would be most honored to meet you in person and discuss any matters of politics or philosophy that are of interest to you. France has ever been our dear friend and I would extend that to the personal. Where and when would you care to meet?

Your humble servant,
J. Adams

In considering his answer, Beaufort declined the opportunity to go into over 100 years of Franco-American relations, mainly because History was not his strong point, and because he didn't want to send a ten page reply.

Dear Mr Adams,

I am most pleased to hear this and America, indeed, has been a good friend to my nation, especially in recent history. I do not know much of the park, but I believe there is a cafe on Main Street, how about there, at about midday, tomorrow?

Yours sincerely,
Jean-Etienne Beaufort.

Dear Sir,

There are several cafes on Main Street. Perhaps you'd do me the honor of meeting me at the Plaza Inn tomorrow at midday. I shall certainly be in attendance.

Your obedient,
J. Adams

He didn't bother replying, just made sure he actually woke up (as after spending weeks without time for real sleep, a lie in was a luxury) and found the cafe in a reasonable amount of time. He supposed being on time was not a particularly important thing here, but he was doing his best to be polite.

After making himself a cup of strong coffee, he sat back and waited for his first meeting with a historical figure, which seemed an odd concept in itself, let alone discussing the politics of a land seemingly without them with him.

As the Plaza Inn was conveniently next door to the First Aid station, John had managed to spend a couple of hours with Susan before adjusting his cravat and heading into the restaurant. It was a happy Congressman who laid eyes on the gentleman drinking coffee. He bowed politely.

"Mr. Beaufort, I presume? I am John Adams." As if the clothes weren't a dead giveaway.

Beaufort gave a polite bow of the head, getting to his feet and taking a moment to check the chair didn't fall over, "Yes, that is me. May I say it's an honour to meet you, Mr Adams." If entirely surreal. It was rather like walking into Robespierre on a trip to the newspaper stand. "May I get you a drink?"

"Coffee is fine," he said, taking a seat next to Beaufort's and flipping his coat tails out of the way to prevent from sitting on them. "And a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Beaufort disappears for a minute or two, and some clattering, mumbled French and other curious sounds later, he returns with a cup of coffee. He was clumsy enough as it was, without having to deal with equipment 60 years in the future. It really did baffle him how people like John and especially that stupid Englishman coped.

"Coffee." He sat down with a slight smile, "So, how long have you been here? Although, I've only been here a few weeks and have entirely lost track."

"Thank you," said John, inhaling the aroma before taking a cautious sip. "I've been here through two Christmas celebrations, if that means anything. A year and a half, perhaps, if time progresses as it should." He looked at Beaufort, trying to size him up. "I regret missing your arrival to the park. I'm afraid I don't make enough of an effort in that regard."

Beaufort breathes in carefully, in mild surprise when he estimates about a year and a half, "That is rather a long time to be away, and it's perfectly alright, so far I've only turned up when I heard someone speaking French." After taking a sip of his coffee, he adds, "I suppose you know a lot more about how this place works than my mere speculation, then. Or is it such a mystery that it's still impossible to tell?"

"It is a long time," John remarked thoughtfully. "I do not know for certain how my work progresses, if at all, though I do know something of the future. Whether it is my future..." He shrugged. "I found myself in a similar place to this one prior to my coming here. I was there nearly a year. So it has been some time since I've been in my own time and place and even longer since I have been home with my family. As for how it works, well, one learns to trust in God and hope for the best. And you, sir? May I ask of your circumstances?"

Beaufort pauses on that question, "I only arrived here a bit ago, and when I left home, I was Minister of the Interior of France in 1940, when my country is at war and...oh, five minutes before the most important vote of my life. Here, I seem to be stuck listening to my own legacy, which is not particularly easy to hear, unfortunately."

Beaufort shrugs, "But I didn't leave anyone in particular behind, I had no family, so I'm afraid I could not even think what it must be like to be without them. You have my sympathies." It was probably fortunate he had left Vivienne before he was dragged here, or that could be painful. "But...do you not think there is more to this than just God," he had believed for a while he was being taught a lesson, but after thinking over what people had said upon his arrival, he came to different conclusions, "My...well, my second thought, was that this was an elaborate political experiment. Removing some of the main reasons people create government; that is scarcity of resources and protection of life, and seeing if we do it anyway. But there are many things I do not know or understand yet, so I cannot say for certain what I think yet."

John gave a wry smile. "I, too, was taken shortly before an important vote with my country at war; I have also since learned of my unfortunate legacy. It appears we have much in common, sir."

He sighed. "What can I think unless it be that this is some plan of the Almighty's?" John wasn't actively religious. He believed in God in that Enlightenment way, like believing in air or water. It was just there. "It may be that it is also an experiment of sorts. Political, if you like. However, in terms of governance, there are two things I can tell you that may be of assistance."

Leaning back in his chair, John steepled his fingers. "I am an attorney, as you may know, and early in my time here I was asked to look into the legality of two men marrying in this place. Seeing as we have no apparent laws, I wrote to Mr. Mouse with my inquiry. His reply was... enigmatic, however he did not forbid the practice and in fact sent me a pamphlet about wedding arrangements of some sort, so I took that as the nearest we had to political approval of the practice.

"Secondly, there is a gentleman here by the name of Orcot. He is a militiaman by trade who attempted to set up a policing service, going so far as to build a jail. I was alerted to this fact by a concerned citizen and set up a town meeting to discuss the issue. It was a remarkable example of democracy in action, I'll admit." John winced to remember it - though it had gone relatively well, tempers had run hot. "In the end, the people decided that it was unnecessary, as there appears to be no actual crime, and it would have given a small group of citizens power over the rest of us with no concrete law in effect with which to conform. Creating an oligarchy, in essence, with nothing to prevent those few from abusing their power other than their own morality and we know from history how well that works," he added, frowning. "We could create those laws, of course, but as you point out, there seems to be no real reason for doing so, as difficult as that is for a politician to admit."

He listened attentively, raised an eyebrow at the 'two men marrying' business, but said no more on that subject, as it was more a matter of morality than law, and the French tradition said they were entirely and completely seperate ideas.

"I had actually been informed about something to do with police forces already, and I was hoping you could tell me more on the subject. And I can only say I agree with you on that subject, as police without law is just absurd. It would turn anarchy into simple power politics. The man with the gun will always get his way. Which is power, and not authority." Beaufort did know his Rousseau. However, doesn't that prevent it being 'anarchy', which is the term I've heard used the most, as you decided on something democratically, and nobody questioned that. Is it not, then, an extraordinarily benevolent direct democracy? I...don't know, which is why I thought I'd talk to you."

Beaufort sipped at his coffee and mused over some of the conclusions he'd made already, in light of the first bit of news. The mouse seemed to think there were laws. Men could marry, but nobody could walk away from one.

John stared at his coffee a moment thinking about how to answer. "In that particular instance, we functioned as a direct democracy, yes," he finally agreed. "But that has been our only vote. In general, I would say simply that we have no government. It would be inaccurate to characterize it as anarchy, for that implies an agreement between equals in how occurrences are handled; yet we have no control over half of what happens and no one agrees or works together in any form for the other half. It is a nation of individuals who care for themselves, peaceable only for the fact that no one can apparently physically harm another."

This was getting a little cynical for Adams, so he added, "Yet it works. Flawed and uncomfortable though it may be, I see no reason to change the system at this time."

((I'm so not a political science person... Apologies.))

((apologies. I'll be nice. It's the thing I do well, unfortunately.))

"I wasn't suggesting changing it, and I don't think there's much possibility of doing so. I'm just curious as to how we can be living in political anarchy, without government, without social anarchy, as in chaos, or how we somehow ended up with the world's most laissez-faire dictatorship." He took a long drink of his coffee and came to a conclusion on what he was actually looking for, which is a good thing to do before you start looking, but never mind, "I suppose I just want to know how it works. Because it shouldn't."

"Apathy," said John shortly. "That and what you've already pointed out. No shortage of necessary goods and the inability to harm one another. Perhaps, too, without the ability to leave, we realize we must attempt to get along." That was the hope, at least.

Beaufort smiled at a small thought in his head, "So, in a sense, we're being forced into anarchy. Or being forced to be...happy. Well, happy as the force keeping us here sees fit." He laughed at the idea of it all, "It's um...how do you say? Ironic, I think." He was certainly less hopeful about the prospect of it all than John, but he had come from a generation whose optimism had been crushed by economic failure, extreme politics and war. Cynicism was a default.

"Forced to be happy is more correct, I believe," he said thoughtfully. "As I understand it, that was the original intent of this place. A park designed for pure amusement."

John's own time period wasn't any better, but the people did have an optimism that things would be better if and when they ruled themselves. He had to believe in that and he had to do whatever he could to make it true.

"Then whoever's in charge is clearly insane with zeal, I'd say. As it can't be the mouse, really. They took 'amusement' to an extreme which..." Beaufort thought about what he was about to say, as he wasn't so sure any more, "means it's negated. Because surely freedom is part of being happy. And you can't force that on people, can you?" Totalitarian regimes tried to enforce happiness and prosperity certainly, but he didn't think it possible. Things were never as simple as that.

He finished off his now rather cold coffee and added as an after thought, "That's terrifying. Because who ever is in charge must believe they are doing us all a great favour."

John frowned. "I do not believe you can credit the presence behind the park with a human intelligence or judge it by human standards. It does not appear to me to be actively malicious or toying with us for its own amusement. I would rather a being with misguided intentions of making us happy to that instance. Yet I ultimately believe that we are here for some good purpose of the Lord's that may or may not ever be revealed to us. I cannot mind it entirely when I have found such people and learned such things. Though I confess, I should not mind to be home. Whether I can entirely regain my former life... well, it remains to be seen."

Beaufort considered this, and seriously, "I do not believe it to be malicious, no, but I'm concerned that misguided intentions, even the best of them, can lead to terrible things. I haven't seen any evidence to say that they will, but it's a concern." As for the religious aspect, Beaufort could appreciate that, even if, by habit, he kept it out of his immediate thought. "I must admit, my original thought was that either my subconscious or God had brought me here to teach me a lesson." To hear how he was a coward and how he'd made a mess of things and to...so on. "It's possible. But I find it difficult just to accept that it is the work of God and move on." It just wasn't his political culture, if anything else.

"I have been here some time now and the most unusual thing I have been forced to endure was a kiss from a gentleman. If that is the worst that occurs due to misguided intentions, I cannot bring myself to worry," he said prosaically. "I have learned many important lessons while here, which I cannot regret."

John peered at the frenchman who seemed to be struggling. "May I ask, sir, why you have difficulty getting past this point? I understand that it is new and that change is rarely comfortable, but you seem to have unusual resistance to the idea. This won't be a permanent home, I do not think. Many people have come and gone in my time here. We need only wait and learn."

Beaufort doesn't quite know how to answer that question, "I don't know. I suppose, from experience, I am cautious before becoming too optimistic about anything. It is difficult just to accept that something is benevolent when the optimism I had for Europe...for peace twenty years ago has basically been rendered pointless. I guess imagining things to be more malevolent than they appear has become a starting point." His political philosophy was currently placed around no real ideology and more 'resigned pessimism'.

"I don't know, maybe I'm just displacing worry for my own country. It's probably irrational, I know." Despite his resignation to surrender, he did worry about what would become of France, especially after some of the things he had already heard.

"I do not know if it helps, sir, but I was given a biography of my life by a well-meaning friend. In it, it says that I participated in that historic vote which was to take place the morning after my departure. I then went on to become an Ambassador and President of my country, eventually to die fifty years hence. Provided that it is I and not an imposter, then I must leave this place in time to return to where I left off. No other explanation makes sense. In truth, I hope that for you as well. We are men of action. We must be allowed to make things right."

John finished his coffee and looked with sympathy at his companion. "I cannot reprimand a man with love for his country. May I ask what has happened to so cruelly crush Europe's great spirit?"

"Really? Well, that's good to know. I got the impression the war had gone off without me, but that's reassuring, definately." Even if he did get the impression his political career went down hill from that night. Severely downhill.

Beaufort had no idea where to start answering that question. From a French perspective, he should probably start in 1870, but that wasn't the most crushing part of it all. "To put it far too simply, the Great War in 1914. I only fought in it for six months, for that was when I was old enough and...it was brutal, to say the least. It was war on a scale you can't comprehend. Millions of people died. I'm not exaggurating, I mean millions. It was unprecedented. I...I can't even describe it that well, I can only come up with sickeningly pointless words by comparison. But after, we punished Germany, for they were...well, warmongering to begin with, we set up a sort of international organisation and there there was hope for peace."

Beaufort took a deep breath as this was a long and complicated history to say it spanned 20 years. "It was genuine, I think. It certainly felt genuine as a student, but I suppose the governments were a bit more cynical. All that hope collapsed, economies fell apart during the 1930s, people turned to extreme politics. Communism, Fascism, politics which took war and revolution as a first resort, and not a last one. Germany became a strong fascist state. It took Austria, parts of Czechoslovakia, the whole of Czechoslovakia. We kept thinking that our first peace was too harsh, that they were taking back what they deserved. But they kept going. Poland, Belgium, France. Without giving you a vast history of Europe since 1800, that's it." Having to recount that history of Europe to a genuine historical figure was almost as bad as having to recount it to a fellow countrywoman.

John stared. Quite apart from not having the faintest idea what Beaufort was talking about in terms of political movements, the death of millions in one war was horrifying. In his own time there were only three million people on the entire continent, so far as they'd explored it anyway, and that included indians, slaves, and Canadians.

"Germany..." he murmured. Then, "That's extraordinary. I have heard tales of the American Civil War, which were horrifying enough," mostly because it was his fault, "but you are correct. I cannot comprehend it. Though I offer you my deepest sympathies. Sometimes I think that being a politician when one's country is at war is the most difficult endeavor in the world."

Beaufort realised he had probably gone on about things John could not understand, but there was little other way of explaining Europe in 1940. He swallowed hard, as he didn't quite know where to go from there. "I would be thankful you cannot comprehend it, because it does start to become thinking the unthinkable." He sighed with a certain resignation, "But yes, it is. Apart from being a politician at war and then having to admit that you've lost. And your people no longer trust you." Having to contemplate moving the government to Senegal or other absurd ideas was shameful. He knew it was humiliating, but he also knew he had little other choice.

Compassion softened John's eyes and he patted Beaufort's hand manfully. "I pray God my people will not lose, and history tells otherwise, but who knows what else can happen when one finds oneself in a place where time means nothing? War is terrible enough, and you know it has always been a close thing, but I've never been able to imagine the sad alternative. I feel most deeply for you, sir."

Beaufort smiled in thanks for John's compassion on the subject, as he had already been rather taken aback at how other people had reacted, "I hope you never do have to feel what it is like to have to admit defeat in war. It's the most humiliating thing, to surrender your nation, your people to another state. But in some respects, to have people tell you that Europe eventually finds peace and France is liberated is...reassuring in a sense."

"I cannot imagine," he said sincerely. "But it is good to know that everything resolves itself for the better. Perhaps that is why you have come in your darkest moment; to learn from others who know that your future is more bright than you can conceive."

"I sincerely hope so. I hope it's not to teach me a lesson, or to punish me for...well," He hesitated on the word, "It now, having heard what everyone says, feels very cowardly. I hope I'm not being punished for that."

"I would not think this place could be used as punishment for you exclusively. Having found joy here myself, I would think it most odd. Do not berate yourself for your actions, whatever they may have been. You have been granted the gift of time and reflection. Use it wisely." That was John's advice, anyway.

"A fair point indeed. Working on the assumption that I haven't gone mad, or anything like that. Which...I don't think I have." Well, not anymore. Madness wouldn't have this kind of detail, this kind of reality, even if entirely unreal, about it.

"Nor do I. It's a possibility we've all considered at one point or another. I believe you'd be mad not to," John chuckled.

((Gah! I'm sorry I'm so bloody slow. Might be good to wrap this up before I disappear for a month or something. XP))

"You would have to, as to not even blink at something like this would make you...that would be more worrying." Beaufort realised that it might be time he allowed John to have the rest of his day back, and it never really did to be impolite the first time you met someone from history. "There are many things I am yet to find out about this park, so perhaps I should explore further and leave you to your day. Thank you, though, for the most interesting and reassuring conversation."

((s'okay. I'd have been just as slow. Busy atm.))

John stood and bowed politely. "It was my pleasure, sir. Do call on me again if there's anything else I can do. I would be most interested to hear your conclusions."

The line of his jaw softened slightly. "And I would not worry so. I have faith that everything will be fine for you."

Beaufort gave John a polite nod and offered his hand to shake, "Thank you, sir, and I will make sure to do so. Au revoir."

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