Founder, Installment 6
Chapters 11 and 12
Book III, Chapter 11
Dory, June 2021
It’s nearly 9 PM. Dory should arrive any minute. Hugh is lying on the couch with his mobile in hand, scrolling through Instagram. An end-of-the-day calm has settled on the flat; the sun has nearly set, and an early cricket outside the living room window is announcing nightfall with an incessant cree-cree. Hugh has been lounging there for about ten minutes when the door buzzer sounds. He goes to the security panel to let Dory in, then returns to the sofa to slip on his boots. When he opens the flat door, he sees his friend mounting the last few steps.
“How many of those do you have?” laughs Hugh, gesturing at Dory’s sweatshirt with its bold Spalding Body Transformations logo.
“Sod off,” says Dory. “It’s marketing.”
Taller than Hugh by only a couple centimeters, Dory outweighs him by at least three and half stone, all of it muscle. He keeps his scalp and face smooth-shaven, to emphasize, he once joked, the classic shape of his head. His small, intense eyes are set far apart; his nose is broad and flat, like a boxer’s.
Now, as Dory follows Hugh into the flat, they see Silvia enter the living room, purse and keys in hand.
“Dory is in the house,” she calls out.
“Sil!” shouts Dory. “Seein’ your blonde prince tonight?”
Silvia goes to Dory and hugs him. “Just for a pint,” she says. “We’re checking out a place in Mistauth that Tommy heard about.” Then, with a smile at them both, she hurries out the door and down the stairs.
After Silvia is gone, Dory turns to Hugh, “Seriously, Hugh, when’re you gonna break that shit up, Hugh?”
Hugh laughs but doesn’t reply.
“I mean, Tommy’s alright, but you know Sil’s just killin’ time, yeah? ‘Til you get your head out of your ass and make a move.”
Glancing at the door to make sure Silvia is gone, Hugh lowers his voice, “I told you. That’s not happening.”
“She tell you that?” asks Dory. “Or you tell yourself that?”
Here Hugh takes the opportunity to change the subject. “I got a good story for you,” he says, going to the couch and sitting down.
Dory follows him. “From Maggie?”
Hugh nods. “It’s batshit crazy, and I’m not saying I’m going to do anything about it…”
With this disclaimer, he tells Dory about Maggie’s tale of founder ancestry. As he talks, he makes a point of emphasizing how unlikely the story is to be true.
When Hugh finishes, Dory sits back and runs his hands over his head, the way he does when thinking hard.
“Jim, that’s fuckin’ insane.”
“Totally insane,” affirms Hugh.
Dory asks what he’s going to do next.
“I dunno,” he answers. “I mean, what are the odds something like that could be overlooked for so long, right? Plus how would you ever find out?”
Dory sits up and crosses one leg over the other. “Hugh, this is Bressen. If any place has that sort of information, the government does.”
“You think I should check it out?” asks Hugh.
“Oh, hell no,” laughs Dory. “I’m just sayin’ you could probably find out if you wanted to.”
“But you think I shouldn’t?”
Now Dory smiles, and Hugh senses he is toying with him. “Doesn’t matter what I think. Just remember that this city is up tight on this kind of shit, yeah? And poking around at the ministries might open a Pandora’s box you don’t want open.”
Hugh nods.
Running his hand over his head again, Dory adds, as if he can’t resist, “But, personally? I’d stay far away from that shit. Even if you found out the story’s true, that club doesn’t want new members—and you don’t want to be a member, anyhow.”
“No, yeah, that’s right,” replies Hugh.
Now Dory rises from his chair, “You ready to roll?” he asks.
And Hugh, once again uncertain about whether to proceed with researching Maggie’s story, nods and rises.
Chapter 12
The Ministry, June 2021
Several days later, Hugh overcomes his doubts and decides to move ahead by inquiring at the Ministry of Genealogy. He’s been held back not just by concerns about Dory and Silvia, but also his paranoia over how much of his private information he’ll see in the Ministry database. On a subtler level, though, he’s been reluctant because he grew up viewing founders as a different species of humanity—remote, money-obsessed, cloaked in mystery. How might he react, then, to finding his entire figan identity was built on a faulty premise, and that he actually belongs to this different species, extremely rich, yes, but completely alien to him—and hated by at least a quarter of the population? For an orphan who’s struggled for a decade and a half with existential loneliness, calling into question his already shaky identity feels stupidly masochistic.
Eventually, though, he sits down with his laptop and Googles the Ministry of Genealogy. He selects the top search result and lands on a website with stock images of people playing tennis, drinking wine, sailing boats, all of which makes him think he’s come to a travel agency page by mistake. But there sits the official seal of the Ministry, in the upper lefthand corner, and beneath it the slogan, “It is in the roots, not the branches, that a tree’s greatest strength lies.”
He checks the dropdown menu and selects “Research Your Roots,” which takes him to a “Resources” page with descriptions of various online tools, the most prominent of which is BACchus, “the official ancestry database of Bressen’s founding families.” There’s also the Figan Finder database and an assortment of other tools for more specific searches on real estate, finance, and criminal history.
Unclear how to proceed, Hugh types prove founder ancestry into the search bar, which directs him to a list of unhelpful links on an FAQ page. Next, he modifies his search to include, founding family and then, aristocratic, but finds nothing helpful. The problem, he quickly decides, is that the Ministry has two main genealogy databases—one for the founding families and one for figan citizens—but he can’t see a way forward for someone who doesn’t know which group he belongs to. He grabs a pen and writes down the Ministry’s customer service phone number, thinking a human might provide better guidance.
Next he rings the Ministry and, when prompted, pushes 4 for “Research Assistance,” finding himself listening to an English-accented woman droning on about the virtues of genealogical inquiry.
Whether you’re calling to learn more about your ancestry, or to better understand Bressen’s unique commitment to recording genealogical data, you’ve come to the right place. Equipped with the most sophisticated resources in the world, the Ministry connects today’s Bressenians with their past while illuminating their present.
He’s been on hold for a few minutes when a woman with an actual south-side Bressen accent introduces herself as Callista F. and announces they are on a recorded line.
She asks for his name; he provides it.
“Okay, Mr. Warding. How can I assist?”
“I’m interested in researching my ancestry to…you know…illuminate my present.”
“Of course,” she says, unamused. “Did you happen to look over the online resources we have available for family research?”
“I did.”
“And which sounds right for your needs?”
“That’s where I need some help,” he says. “I’m not sure which database would have what I’m looking for…”
“No?”
“No.”
“I see,” she says. “Are you from an immigrant family, perhaps? Because we’re launching a database for our immigrant citizens in 2025.”
“No, no,” he replies. “My family is from Bressen—going a long way back, I think.”
“Ah, okay. Then if you’ll provide me with your full legal name and birthdate, I can get you started.”
“Hugh Thomas Warding; April 7, 1994.”
He hears fingers tapping on a keyboard. Then, after a minute, Callista F. announces, “I’ve got you right here—father, Tipton Caudwell Warding?”
“Uh huh.”
“Mother, Amelia Marston Warding?”
“Right.”
“So you should find everything you’re after in Figan Finder. If you like, I can register you for access, or you can register online. Bronze access is free to the public. Silver and Gold access involve a subscription fee.”
“That’s the thing,” he says. “I think I might need both databases.”
“Why is that?” she asks.
“It’s a little complicated,” Hugh replies. “Family legends and that sort of thing. But I want to make sure I’m thorough, yeah? It’s for my uncle.” He adds that last part to humanize himself but realizes he probably sounds silly.
Now Callista laughs. “Oh, I totally understand. All families have their stories, right? I’d recommend starting with what you know for sure, which is that your ancestry is figan.”
Figan.
Weegan.
“Right,” he says, “but what if I’m registered wrong in the first place? I’d need both databases to figure that out, yeah?”
“That’s your choice, of course,” Callista replies. “But it’s highly unlikely you’re registered incorrectly. Bressen has the most extensive genealogical resources in the world.”
“Can you tell me about the yazzer database?”
“BACchus,” replies Callista, “is our oldest database. It’s been online since 2001 but its roots go back to the 19th century, with the Edmiston Register. And for centuries before that, Bressen tracked the founding family bloodlines through the BCA—the Bressenian College of Arms. It tracked heraldry and genealogy for centuries before the Ministry was formed. Then it got folded into the Ministry back in the early 1900s.”
“What’s the Edmiston thingy?” he asks.
Callista explains that, in 1892, the Senate commissioned a register of every living member of the founding families. Researchers were able to trace the oldest of the clans as far back as the first century, meaning, she said, that Bressen is home to the oldest verified bloodlines in the world—older even than the Grimaldis, Habsburgs, or the British Royal Family. Data from the register later provided the foundation for BACchus, with dozens of additional data sources being added over the years.
“Interesting,” says Hugh. “So I think I need access to them both.”
Callista says that’s absolutely fine and that the two databases are priced the same. She takes down Hugh’s email address and tells him he’ll receive his login credentials within the hour. Before ending the call, she gives him her direct extension and explains that she’ll be his point of contact for future inquiries. Then, 45 minutes later, Hugh receives an email from the Ministry of Genealogy congratulating him on his decision to explore his ancestry. At the bottom of the message are his login credentials followed by a Latin phrase:
Respice Adspice Prospice.
And beneath it the English translation:
Examine the past, the present, and the future.