The Situationtorium
They say men think about Ancient Rome every day. Here is your dose for the day.
A blaring brass fanfare with a lyre’s twang echoes through the marble studio, as the news anchor strides into frame. His crimson-trimmed toga swishes as he grips a wax tablet emblazoned with “RNN.” Torches flicker along the walls, casting shadows on a mosaic map of the empire behind the anchor’s desk.
“Greetings, citizens of the Eternal City and beyond! I’m Lucius Gracchus Scipio Bibulus, and this is The Situationtorium—your unfiltered scroll of truth in a world gone mad! Live from the Forum, 24 hours a day, this is the Roman News Network: Veni, vidi, reportavi. Let’s dive in!”
Top Story: Christianity—Cult or Conspiracy?
Lucius shuffles a stack of parchment, squinting at the top sheet before tossing it aside with a theatrical flourish. “Our lead tonight: Christianity. Innocent offshoot of Judaism, or a cannibalistic cult gnawing at the Pax Romana? Joining me is Sextus Julius Africanus, Christian advocate.”
The camera pans to Sextus, a wiry man in a plain tunic, perched stiffly on a cushioned stool. He pulls at the neck of his garment as Lucius looms over him. Sextus spreads his hands in exasperation, “It’s preposterous to call Christianity a cannibalistic cult!”
Lucius leans forward, jabbing a finger at Sextus. “Hold it right there, pal. We’ve got eyewitnesses—senators, merchants, even a bathhouse loiterer—swearing Christians meet on the regular to eat the body and drink the blood of some crucified Jewish rebel. Cannibalism, plain and simple!” He smirks, crossing his arms triumphantly.
Sextus bolts upright, knocking his stool back an inch. “It’s symbolic! Well, kind of…” he hesitates slightly. “They’re eating bread and wine—but they believe it’s body and blood. But he’s not dead. He’s alive! So—.”
Lucius recoils with mock horror, clutching his chest. “So it’s a fake-out? Folks, you heard it here: Christians can’t even cannibalize properly. Lame!” He spins to the camera, wagging a finger. “We’ll keep an eye on this weird sect—could be trouble brewing. Up next, barbarian mayhem!”
Breaking News: Germanic Tribes Breach the Rhine
Lucius snatches a rolled scroll from an off-screen slave and unfurls it with a snap. “Breaking now: Chaos on the frontier!” He paces the studio, gesturing wildly at the mosaic map as a slave hurriedly pins a red flag over the Rhine. “Germanic tribes have smashed across the river, torched two forts, and left Legion XXIII scrambling. Emperor Domitian’s ‘tough-on-Teutons’ plan? Collapsing like a soggy amphora!”
He pivots to Centurion Gaius Marcellus, a grizzled soldier in polished armor, leaning on a spear beside the desk. Gaius shifts his weight, his scarred hand tightening on the weapon.
“Gaius, give it to us straight—what’s the damage?”
Gaius steps forward, slamming the spear’s butt into the floor with a thud. “Lucius, it’s a bloodbath. The legions are stretched thin—half our boys are stuck policing Britain while these hairy savages run wild. Domitian better ship reinforcements, or we’re toast!” He jabs a finger at the map, tracing the Rhine’s curve.
Lucius nods gravely, stroking his chin. “Shocking stuff, folks. Critics are dubbing this ‘Rhinegate’—is Domitian snoozing at the helm? We’ve got exclusive pigeon-cam footage—smoke billowing over the limes. Senators are howling; we’ll bring you live Curia reactions at the hour’s turn.”
Politics: Praetorian Guard Shake-Up
Lucius strides to a gilded bust of Domitian on a pedestal, giving it a sarcastic pat. “Now to the Palatine, where coup rumors are hotter than Vulcan’s forge. Domitian’s axed three Praetorian prefects this week—insiders say he smells betrayal.” He beckons to Senator Publius Clodius Thrasea, who lounges on a couch, swirling a goblet of wine.
The senator rises, his purple-bordered toga rustling, and fixes Lucius with a steely glare.
“Senator, is this emperor paranoid or onto something?”
Publius swigs his wine, then hurls the empty goblet off-screen with a clatter. “Lucius, Domitian’s lost it—sacking loyal guards, jumping at shadows. He’s turning the Praetorians into his private goon squad, not Rome’s shield!” He paces, fists clenched.
Lucius smirks, tapping the bust again. “Strong words! But our source, TogaAnon, claims Domitian’s got scrolls tying the prefects to those Germanic raiders we just covered.” He pulls a parchment from his toga, waving it dramatically. “Coincidence or conspiracy? We’ll peel this onion after the break.”
Sports: Gladiator Upset Rocks Colosseum
Lucius bounds to a table littered with gladiator figurines, snatching up a wooden trident and thrusting it in the air. “In brighter news, the Colosseum’s buzzing! Thracian nobody ‘Titus the Thresher’ skewered champ Maximus Decimus in a gory upset!” He stabs the trident into a clay Maximus, grinning as it topples. “Our games guru, Flavia Sporina, is live—Flavia, spill it!”
Flavia, a wiry woman in a stola, bounds in wielding a mock retiarius net. She twirls it with flair, her voice crackling with glee. “Lucius, Titus turned the tables! Maximus strutted around, flirting with the vestals—then bam! Titus gutted him like a tuna. The crowd lost it—betting dens are a madhouse!” She swings the net, nearly clipping Lucius.
Lucius ducks, chuckling. “Love that fire, Flavia! Word is Domitian’s steamed—he bet a villa on Maximus. Is a gladiator crackdown coming? Odds and outrage at eleven!”
Health Scare: Plague in Gaul
Lucius grimaces, waving a hand as if swatting a fly. “Now a grim update from Gaul: A fever’s felling legionaries and peasants alike.” He grabs a clay vial labeled “Miasma-Be-Gone” and shakes it at the camera. “Healers blame swamp stink, but locals cry druid curses after Legio IX torched a holy grove. Chief Medicus Aelius Galenus joins us—Doc, what’s the scoop?”
Aelius, a bearded man in a white robe, shuffles in clutching a scroll. He unrolls it with a flourish, tapping it sternly. “Lucius, it’s science, not hocus-pocus. Bad air from stagnant bogs—build an aqueduct, problem solved. These Gaulish whiners need to quit their griping!” He tosses the scroll aside, crossing his arms.
Lucius nods, holding the vial aloft. “Bold take! But with Gaul’s grain feeding half the empire, panic’s spiking. Bread riots next? We’ll track this plague—stay with us!”
Lucius strides back to his desk, kicking aside a stray sandal as he grabs the speaking horn. “That’s tonight’s Situationtorium! Next up: Is Cleopatra’s ghost spooking the Nile, or just rebels stirring trouble? Plus, leaked scrolls hint Nero’s plotting a comeback—fiddle jams included! This is RNN—where the empire never sleeps!” He slams the tablet down, grinning as torchlight glints off his gold signet ring. “Veni, vidi, reportavi!”
Brass swells, fading to the distant roar of a Colosseum crowd.
Entertaining read!!