It was all a laugh. The lion hunting, being carried around by the natives, sweating on the African planes. Life was one big hurrah. We were, after all, the Empire. Not just an empire, but the Empire. Below the snows of Kilimanjaro, we posed for our picture, giggling, playing with one another. This was life. This was the life that power built. Our power? Not so much. It was more a power build over the years. One conquest after another. Royal Africa Company. East India Company. Liverpool. Manchester. Watt, Arkwright, and so forth. We were something unique. The cool arrogance of a nation unaware of its own decline, gathered at the foot of Kilimanjaro for a last hurrah.

The photographer snapped the shot, and we went on with our journey. Father shot a lion and an elephant, not to mention numerous monkeys. Death and destruction in our wake. Civilized mass murder. This was England's contribution to the world.