Idealisms

The train continued its steady journey through the countryside, and Karl beside me continued writing his book. I was bored of reading my newspaper, so I came up with a question about Karl.

"You speak of equality," I said, interrupting his latest point about collective ownership. "But how do you propose to achieve it? History is littered with attempts to create utopias, and most of them ended in bloodshed or tyranny."

Karl adjusted his glasses, his expression thoughtful. "You're right to be skeptical. Change is never easy, and those in power will not relinquish it willingly. But the key lies in education and organization. If the masses understand their collective strength, they can rise peacefully and demand their rights. Violence is not the goal—it is a last resort."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what of those who resist? The aristocrats, the industrialists, the generals? Do you think they will simply step aside and let their power be taken from them?"

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. "No, they will fight. They always do. But if the movement is strong enough, if the people are united, they will have no choice but to yield. The tide of history cannot be held back forever."

His words carried a weight of conviction, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was underestimating the ruthlessness of those in power. I had seen firsthand how far the ruling class would go to maintain their dominance—how they would send young men to die on the battlefield, how they would exploit the poor and downtrodden to enrich themselves. Karl's vision was noble, but it seemed to me like a dream that could easily turn into a nightmare.

"And what role do you see for yourself in all of this?" I asked, curious about his ambitions. "Are you content to be a mere philosopher, or do you intend to lead this revolution?"

Karl smiled faintly, his gaze distant. "I am no leader. My role is to plant the seeds of change, to inspire others to take up the cause. The true leaders will emerge from the people themselves—those who have suffered under the current system and are willing to fight for a better future."

I nodded, though I wasn't entirely convinced. History had shown that even the most well-intentioned movements could be corrupted by those who sought power for themselves, just like in my past life, with the Soviet Union and other so-called communist countries. They all became corrupt, ruthless tyrants. That is why communism failed. Still, there was something admirable about Karl's idealism, his unwavering belief in the potential for a better world.

The train slowed as it approached a small station, and Karl glanced out the window. "This is my stop," he said, gathering his papers and placing them back into his briefcase. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Sir Wilhelm. I hope our conversation has given you something to think about."

"It has," I admitted, standing to shake his hand. "Good luck with your work, Karl. Perhaps one day, your ideas will change the world."

He smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Perhaps they will. Farewell, my friend."

As he stepped off the train and disappeared into the crowd on the platform, I sat back down, my mind buzzing with thoughts. Karl's vision of a classless society was compelling, but it also felt like a distant dream, one that would require immense sacrifice and struggle to achieve—just like the brutal civil wars and the Cold War in my old world. I couldn't help but wonder if such a world was possible in this one.