Idolization
Has it been about twenty-five years since I first dropped into Austria? It was a long enough time for even the mysterious system to acknowledge that the world had been completely turned upside down.
The years spanning from the 1910s to this very year had been so incredibly hectic that, if written as a novel, they would easily span over four hundred thousand words. After weathering those relentless days, the arrival of the New Year in 1920 finally allowed me to relax and enjoy some peace in Vienna. Granted, France was currently enduring a tragedy too gruesome to watch, and a revolution had erupted in Russia... but still, it was better than total war, wasn't it?
"Um... Vice Chairman Stahl, some concerning developments are unfolding in the United States."
"What is it?"
"Asset prices within the US are skyrocketing. At a glance, it looks like an unprecedented boom, but..."
"It should be fine for now. When people are still worrying, asking, 'Isn't this a bubble?'... well, that's usually a sign that it's going to rise even higher."
People still worry during a fake bubble. A real bubble is different. It has to reach a point of absolute madness where everyone is laughing and celebrating a 'permanent boom' even though the situation is glaringly absurd to any rational observer. Only then will the Great Depression truly detonate.
"For now, keep buying and accumulating American stocks. Only report back to me when you start thinking, 'Anyone who doesn't buy this is an idiot, do I really need to keep reporting this?'"
"Yes... understood."
Yes, at the very least, peace had settled among the United States, Great Britain, and the member states of the Prague Treaty Organization. The time had finally come for me to stay in Vienna with a light heart and prepare for the future.
And by my side... was Margarete, glaring at me with sharp, narrow eyes. Astonishingly, she was my wife.
"...It's been a while, 'Mr.' Stahl."
"Ah, well, you see..."
"We finally go out for a stroll, and you're still taking reports?!"
"Aaargh!"
As expected, the palm of Margarete—who had become the ultimate symbol of the feminist warrior—was incredibly spicy.
But this was just the fate of those in power! Just look at Hitler, Stalin, and Mao Zedong in the original history. Whether it was because they had spilled too much blood or because they were married to the state... every single one of them had terrible relationships with their children and families, didn't they?
...I guess I've fallen to the level of Hitler, Stalin, and Mao. I really need to live a better life.
Anyway, I was out on a date with Margarete for the first time in a million years. And the location of our date?
"Alright, cut! Excellent! Just a little more gravity in your performance, please!"
It was none other than a movie set.
Our empire's film industry was a vital state enterprise, much like it was in the Soviet Union of my past life. Within the Prague Treaty Organization, Germany was slated to handle steel and heavy industry. Keynes had pointed out that our empire could never, under any circumstances, defeat Germany in manufacturing. Therefore, what should our primary industry be? In the end, the path we had to choose was a tech tree similar to 'Japan'—focusing heavily on cultural industries and cutting-edge science.
Thus, the upcoming blockbuster film: Hötzendorf! Despite my relentless schedule, I had somehow squeezed out the time to produce this movie.
"First of all, make the explosions as massive as possible!"
"Every single frame must carry meaning. Film is not theater. Pay close attention to how the camera frames each shot!"
I was a man of the twenty-first century, after all. Even if I knew next to nothing about filmmaking, I possessed at least the basic aesthetic sense to distinguish what was cool from what was outdated.
Determined to create a masterpiece that would rival Ben-Hur, I poured astronomical sums of money and expertise into the project. Just like in Ben-Hur, I mobilized actual cavalry regiments. I had even hired a legendary music director at an exorbitant cost.
"Who is the hottest composer in Europe right now?"
"Debussy passed away recently... but Rachmaninoff and Richard Strauss are highly renowned at the moment."
Figures listed as 'masters' in music textbooks were still alive and breathing. I commissioned Richard Strauss himself to compose the film's score.
And in this very film, Margarete and I were making cameo appearances. A celebrity cameo... It felt a bit cheap, but we needed to drum up as much buzz as possible to recoup at least some of our investment. At the end of the day, film is an industry, and if we flopped catastrophically after spending this much money, I would literally cry.
"Vice Chairman Stahl, President Margarete... you will be playing a judge and his wife taken hostage by Hötzendorf. This is the scene where Hötzendorf's faction arrives to abduct the judge's family."
Soon, the actor playing Hötzendorf—the absolute epitome of a handsome middle-aged gentleman—stepped into view. ...The real Hötzendorf was definitely not that good-looking.
For political purposes, Hötzendorf had to be portrayed as the most dashing, charismatic villain possible. To serve that agenda, we cast a remarkably handsome actor, even though the character was pushing sixty.
Wearing a pair of stylish sunglasses and puffing on a cigar, the actor playing Hötzendorf spoke with sinister gravity.
Unlike the somewhat pathetic real-life Hötzendorf, his cinematic counterpart was written to exude pure, unadulterated villainous charisma from every pore. A man agonizing over right and wrong, yet acting without hesitation, driven by absolute conviction in his own judgment!
"Kyaaa! He's so hot!"
"..."
Margarete squealed as she watched the actor. And she wasn't the only one. Somehow, word had gotten out, and every young girl in Vienna had gathered at the set, screaming at the top of their lungs for this old man.
...I guess Hitler didn't make those propaganda films about his daily life for nothing. To think a man who tried to flee stark naked could be portrayed so magnificently...!
"This won't do. I need to revise the script."
"Hmm? What is it, darling?"
"That actor should play 'Stahl' instead. I'll take all of those cool lines, and as for Hötzendorf..."
"Oh, honestly!"
Margarete smacked my back with all her might.
I had planned to romanticize Hötzendorf, but I hadn't expected it to go this far! Rubbing my stinging back, I made a silent vow.
This won't do. The next movie has to be 'Hitler.'
In any case, thanks to my persistent lobbying, a fairly heroic scene was allocated to my cameo. In the scene, Hötzendorf sets fire to our house—the home of the judge. I grab Margarete's hand.
"My love, you must flee. Save yourself."
"What?! Why aren't you coming with me?"
"I must stay and fight."
"No, you can't!"
Perhaps because the Wittgenstein corporation had grown into the world's largest film studio with massive state subsidies, Margarete's acting as the company's president was surprisingly superb. Seeing her doe-like eyes pooling with tears, I found myself getting swept up in the performance.
"I will shed my blood to defend the order of this nation."
"But the other judges...!"
I gaze wistfully at our burning home and deliver my line.
"If not me, then who?"
After delivering the line, I pull Margarete into a passionate kiss. *Mmm... chu!* I shall spare you the overly detailed onomatopoeia. Seriously, how long had it been since we last did this?
Just then, the director bellowed in an utterly exasperated tone.
"Cut, cut! Vice Chairman! That is way too much!"
"Pardon? What is?"
"It's too intense! You're supposed to just mimic the kiss, just mimic it!"
"...I-Is that not how you do it?"
Suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious, I looked at Margarete.
Margarete was a dopamine addict who drove like a maniac every single day and went wild for any new vehicle, whether it was airplanes or airships. She poured all the wealth she amassed as the company's president into private planes, yachts, and sports cars. That wild streak was exactly what had drawn me to her, but...
Seeing her blush furiously and look down at the floor brought back old memories. Memories of how breathtakingly beautiful she had looked on the ship from Sweden to Austria.
The movie Hötzendorf was a colossal box-office hit.
"Darling! Our movie has finally premiered. Shouldn't we go see it?"
I said to Margarete as I tossed my coat aside after returning from work. However, Margarete was already slumped on the sofa, exhausted from reviewing stacks of paperwork.
"The movie is such a massive success that we don't even have enough theaters to meet the demand."
"And?"
"The member states of the Prague Treaty Organization are begging us to build more theaters. I think I'm going to be buried in work for a while because of that..."
"Aww."
Having grown much closer since the filming, I tried to act cute, but Margarete just stared at me with a face that looked like she wanted to throw up.
Oh dear, my dignity as the head of the household...!
...Or so I thought, but with rumors already circulating that I had nearly wet myself while riding in a plane piloted by Margarete, what dignity did I have left to speak of?
"Let's just watch it at home."
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? I had a projector installed in the house."
"But... who's going to run the projector?"
"We can just tell the butler!"
There was a fact I often forgot: Margarete, having inherited the late Chairman Wittgenstein's immense fortune, was wealthy beyond my wildest imagination. Consequently, our grand mansion was frequently outfitted with facilities that even I couldn't have dreamed of. I still remember nearly fainting when I returned home from the front lines after a long absence, only to find a hangar and an actual runway built on the estate. I spent so many nights sleeping on the sofa in my office anyway, and the mansion was so incredibly luxurious that it barely felt like a home.
"Shall we, then?"
Margarete and I changed into comfortable clothes and headed to our private home theater. The finished film... was far more spectacular than I had anticipated.
In this era, let alone CGI, even basic editing techniques were primitive. Yet, the immersion was so intense that it felt like watching a well-made twenty-first-century war film.
"Do you see the cavalry over there?"
"Yeah. I heard the Bosnian Agricultural Cooperative sponsored them, but..."
"Apparently, Commander Tito of the partisans got so excited that he brought his entire unit along."
For some reason, Stalin had developed an absolute aversion to mass media at some point. It was only because Tito had taken over as the partisan commander that such a casting coup was possible. No wonder the battle scenes looked so magnificent.
I had heard that the entire Austrian military had been mobilized to realize scenes that could easily rival a twenty-first-century blockbuster. Honestly, we didn't even need to make cameos. With such breathtaking spectacles packed into the film, it would have been stranger if it hadn't succeeded.
The movie gradually built toward its climax. Naturally, the scene where they fled stark naked was included.
Surrounded by the other naked old men, Hötzendorf murmured with profound sorrow.
To be frank, the 1920s were severely lacking in dopamine. The reason I threw myself so relentlessly into my work? It was simply because there was absolutely nothing else to do. The only form of entertainment available was silent, black-and-white films that were more likely to put you to sleep than entertain you.
Yet, this film was such a masterpiece that even I, with my incredibly high standards for dopamine, couldn't help but applaud.
"Phew. That was amazing. What did you think, Margarete?"
"..."
Margarete remained silent, her lips pressed into a tight line. At some point during the screening, she had completely stopped paying attention to the film.
Was it because she was the president of the film company and had already seen it? Or was it simply not to her taste? In any case, ever since the scene featuring our cameos, she seemed to have been deeply lost in her own thoughts.
"What's wrong? Was it not as good as you expected?"
"It's not that..."
"Then what is it?"
"..."
Suddenly, Margarete looked me dead in the eye and spoke in a remarkably firm voice.
"I'm pregnant."
"What?!"
In the year 1920, with my forties looming just around the corner... Marx Stahl II was finally on his way.