Born Together, Changed the World Apart
The air hums with the citrusy aroma of orange and lemon, mingling with the heady warmth of chocolate. Water lilies drift serenely in bowls of still water, their reflection broken only by the occasional ripple. At the center of the room, a delicate tea set sits before a robed figure—the Venerable Zenzi Jokesara. She is tranquility embodied, a blend of martial artist and philosopher, poised between wisdom and mischief.
Across from her sit two guests, both born on the same day but otherwise sharing little in common.
One, Charles Darwin, has a scruffy beard and an expression of intellectual intensity, his fingers twitching as though mentally sketching the lineage of the tea leaves before him.
The other, Abraham Lincoln, tall and solemn, adjusts his stovepipe hat and surveys the scene with a quiet weariness that suggests he has debated far tougher adversaries than a mere scientist.
Lincoln takes a tentative sip of his tea and mutters under his breath, “If this is coffee, please bring me some tea, but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee.”
Venerable Zenzi tilts her head slightly, amused. “Tea or coffee is irrelevant. What you require is orange and chocolate. That is what you get.”
Darwin smirks. “That, Mr. President, is a lesson in adaptation. The key to survival is accepting the circumstances.”
Lincoln raises an eyebrow. “Spoken like a man who never had to unite a divided nation. Adaptation is a luxury; survival sometimes means defying the odds.”
Darwin’s brow furrows. “And yet, sir, what is evolution but nature’s way of refining itself? Injustice, like unfit species, is meant to die out.”
Lincoln leans forward, eyes sharp. “Tell that to the millions who have suffered under systems designed to keep them shackled. If justice were natural, sir, there would be no need for laws.”
Venerable Zenzi takes a slow sip of her tea, her silence commanding their attention. “And yet,” she says softly, “both of you fought against nature. One against ignorance, the other against cruelty. Were you resisting, or merely accelerating the inevitable?”
Lincoln sighs, setting down his teacup. “You and I, Mr. Darwin, were both branded as troublemakers in our time. Your book unraveled the heavens; my proclamation unraveled a nation. We both made people uncomfortable.”
Darwin strokes his beard thoughtfully. “And yet, I merely suggested that nature has no master plan, while you insisted that humanity must have one. Curious.”
Lincoln gives a dry chuckle. “I wonder what your theory of natural selection would make of politicians. Surely, we are not the fittest?”
Darwin grins. “On the contrary, sir. The ability to convince a crowd of contradictory things and still get elected suggests a high degree of adaptability.”
Venerable Zenzi interjects. “And yet, what is power without wisdom? A tiger may rule the jungle, but when the river rises, it drowns like all the rest.”
Darwin shifts uncomfortably. “You realize, Mr. President, that my theory has been… misused. Twisted into something called ‘Social Darwinism.’”
Lincoln frowns. “A corruption of your work?”
Darwin nods. “Survival of the fittest twisted into justification for oppression. Eugenics. The idea that some people are simply ‘meant’ to dominate others.”
Lincoln’s jaw tightens. “The same argument used to defend slavery.”
The room grows quiet. The tea cools. Outside, a distant chime echoes. Venerable Zenzi finally speaks. “Every truth can be poisoned in the wrong hands. A sword can protect, or it can slaughter. The hand that wields it decides.”
Darwin exhales. “Then perhaps we are not so different. We are both men whose ideas reshaped the world, for better or worse.”
Lincoln lifts his cup in acknowledgment. “And both of us, I suspect, would rather have had a quiet life.”
Venerable Zenzi smiles. “Ah, but history does not choose the comfortable. It chooses the necessary.”
As the tea is finished, Darwin glances at the water lilies. “Adaptation,” he murmurs, “even in still water.”
Lincoln nods. “And justice, even in troubled times.”
Venerable Zenzi rises. “Then you understand. Now, gentlemen—who among you will wash the teacups?”
Lincoln and Darwin exchange glances.
For the first time that evening, there is no debate.
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