Free Some Like it Easy by Heather Long

helping if you keep staring. Checking her phone again, she found no messages from Mallory, so she stared at the breakdown of post-war economics in late 1940s Europe as compared to the post-Cold War in Eastern Europe.
    George painted a stark, if brutal, portrait in a few short words. His laughter drew her out of the paper, and she glanced over to find him shaking his head in amusement.
    “What?”
    “Cosimo de Medici consolidated power effectively. He rules from behind the scenes, a true Godfather in a way which would have left Mario Puzo drooling. Through ruthless acquisition and brutal reprisal, Cosimo held sway over the entire city of Florence. The world was bettered due to his command because his interest in the arts initiated the commission of great cathedrals as well as ensuring artists were hired to decorate them. Arguably, his schools, his support of artists, and his generosity toward artisans surpasses any the art world ever knew. All it took was a dictator. Contradiction in terms? Or the physical representative of the tortured, artistic soul?” Disapproval tangled with amusement as he read the last part, and George raised his eyebrows. “Do you truly feel this way? The man was a despot.”
    “Yes, he was, but Florence benefitted from it.”
    “A segment of Florence, yes, but not the city as a whole.”
    “Do you know how often artists and educators are dismissed or marginalized? He made them valuable, and paid them a small fortune to create some of the most amazing works of art in the world.”
    “He shackled them and traded them like a commodity, made them a signatory of his wealth and influence, a trait shared by future generations and other men of power during the same age. Patrons of the arts? Perhaps. But they were also masters, demanding service and dressing it up to look pretty.” Disapproval and perhaps even a hint of disappointment echoed beneath his tone.
    “Didn’t say I was in love with the guy, just making an argument for the opportunities available during the Renaissance which led to the era being labeled a renaissance.” She wanted to apologize for upsetting him, an uncomfortable position and one she didn’t typically occupy.
    “Well, I am very pleased to know you aren’t in love with Cosimo.” Though he seemed sober and serious, a gleam entered his eyes and the corners of his mouth tipped a fraction. “Though, from the way this is worded, you clearly wish you lived in Florence during the period.”
    “I kind of do, but only kinda.” Nibbling her lip, she considered confessing a ridiculous daydream. “Look, I know they didn’t have proper plumbing, or even decent medicine or air conditioning—all very vital parts of my life. Still, there’s something about being there when the world changes, living in those moments. It had to be exciting…”
    “Terrifying is the adjective you’re looking for. You live in an ever-changing world now, one historians may very well wax poetic about in five hundred years. The adventurous time of the Internet tying the world together in unimaginable ways, changing how people live and what they know of the world. Economies, always mixed, are suddenly wholly dependent upon one another. Natural disasters, previously isolated events, now consume a wider audience and garner worldwide help and attention. The definition of art, ever flexible, changes with each generation. Although the future can gaze at the past through romanticized glasses, a great deal of bloodshed, tyranny, and fear are swept away by the symbols of victory.”
    The hair on the back of her neck stood at his impassioned speech—eloquent, urbane, and utterly convincing. “Wow. I never thought of it that way.”
    “Of course not; you live in the moment. You respond to the world around you as it is, both good and the ugly. You don’t see the big moments until they’ve passed. Yes, disasters, sudden shocks, those are noticeable. But the quiet, unending march toward change happening all