A Perfect Peace

It is hard to believe that World War III began, and ended, because of a piece of chocolate cake. But it did.

That fateful U.N. summit began like any other. Leaders from every major nation on the planet converged on Rome to decide the issues of the time. Climate change, sustainability, and public health were all topics of particular concern. But before any of that was to occur, all the pomp and ceremony of any major international political event had to take place. Each delegation was pampered and showered with gifts, treats, and delicacies while the leaders of the world schmoozed amongst themselves. It was a time for rallying allies and probing the competition. Presidents, prime ministers, and kings used this first meeting to subtly establish dominance among their peers and set the stage for the talks to come.

The Italian chef in charge of the dinner spared no expense, and no amount of toil was too great. Dish after dish of extravagant fare circled the congregation, each styled after a famous national recipe from an attending State. Succulent lobster and crab from the U.S., tostadas and pozole from Mexico, and fancy meat pies with ornately decorated crusts from Australia and New Zealand. Every course was meticulously planned with Italian flare and influence added to create unique renditions of treasured favorites. The leaders and their delegations raved after the introduction of each dish. Conversations turned raucous and spirited as the food and drink flowed around the dignitaries. By the time the desserts were being served, the Italian prime minister was strutting from table to table with his chest out and his head held high. He laughed and joked as he proceeded, every bit the adept political figure. Others were similarly emboldened, especially if their country contributed a particularly popular dish, and soon leaders were ambling between tables to form small groups and brag to each other en masse. A small, sweet rice cake dessert from Korea made the rounds and a new spirit of joviality swept across the room. It was a true testament to the power of food, and how it can bring people together.

The grand finale was still to come, however. Wide kitchen doors were thrust open, and the sound of squeaking wheels filled the void left by the hushed political chatter. Voices trailed off amid the building anticipation, and soon all attention was fixed on a large cart emerging from the kitchen doors. It was covered in white linen and laden with stacks of small plates, silverware, and napkins. As the last offering of the night, a massive German chocolate cake sat atop the cart, a majestic brown monument to the collaboration of Italy and Germany. A pastry chef wheeled the cart to the center of the room, and carved it skillfully into uniform pieces as the prime minister of Italy and the Chancellor of Germany flanked her. Elected officials from across the globe lined up to receive their piece of the monolithic confection. Each piece was masterfully peeled away by the skilled hands of the pastry chef and then placed on a waiting plate. As plates were filled and taken, and the cake was eaten, rave reviews began to soar up to the rafters. Congratulations were showered upon the prime minister and chancellor, and amidst much hand-shaking and back-slapping, something disastrous happened. A slice was taken from the cake, unlike any other. It was dimensionally perfect. It had the straightest lines, and the perfect amount of expertly distributed icing. It was the perfect piece of cake. And both the prime minister and the chancellor had seen it.

Each of them watched the piece with increasing anticipation. They stared at it as guest after guest stepped forward to claim a plate from the cart. Over and over again slices were taken, and yet, that perfect piece persisted. Sweat formed on their brows as they watched the end of the line, and plates, near. There were only a few more handshakes, a few more congratulations, and then it would be theirs. The prime minister’s heart skipped a beat and the chancellor held her breath when the president of China nearly picked up the fated plate. But a final change of heart lead him to grab an adjacent piece. At last, the line was empty. At last the time had comes, and wonderfully, miraculously, the piece was still there.

They moved in unison, the prime minister and the chancellor, without even seeing each other. Tunnel vision had overtaken them, and they move almost rhythmically towards the cart. It was nothing short of fate that allowed them to both reach the table at the same instant. To allow them both to reach out simultaneously and grasp opposite sides of the same plate.

Their mutual reverie was shattered when they both pulled back without success. Realization turned to anger as a contest of skill unfolded before the chocolate siren. Eyes locked and grips hardened. Not a word was uttered because they both knew the other’s mind. Neither was about to let the slice of perfection leave their grasp. A precarious tug of war ensued, the plate shifting back and forth between them. Fingers began to slip, and the German chancellor came to realize that her grasp wasn’t going to hold. Panic set in and her mind began to race when the plate slowly inched from between her fingertips. The Italian prime minister felt his heart pound in his chest when he realized the slice was to be his. With wide eyes he redoubled his efforts and pulled with all the might his veil of civility would allow. They could both sense the end of their contest, and in that last instant, the chancellor made up her mind. If that wedge of chocolate perfection could not be hers, no one should have it. Just as the plate was about to leave her grasp, she shifted her weight and pushed the plate forward, launching the cocoa temptress straight into the prime minister’s chest.

The gooey confection exploded over his pristine suite and the realization of what had just happened washed over them both at the same time. Officials throughout the room looked up from their conversations to gawk at the scene unfolding before them. Anger rose up within the face of the Italian diplomat. What began as incredulousness turned quickly to indignation. The German chancellor seemed to wake from a dream, fully realizing only then what had transpired between them. She watched as disbelief changed to furious anger in the face of her rival, and in that instant, she knew what he was going to do even before he did. As if compelled to fulfill her premonition, the prime minister dropped the plate to the floor and placed his hands on the cart. He glowered at the German chancellor, silently seething while the entire room waited with bated breath to see what his reaction would be. Without warning he shoved the cart sideways towards the Chancellor. The cart began to topple towards her, but the Chancellor had foreseen the Italian’s revenge. She shot her arms forward as the cart tipped towards her, reversing its course and sending the remaining plates, and cake, soaring back at the prime minister. Fine China and fondant rained down upon him, and the clattering of dishes upon the floor unleashed pandemonium amongst the until-then silent onlookers. A chorus of sound erupted at the same instant as the cart smashed into the ground, both dignitaries started shouting at each other, and all the world’s leaders collectively lost their minds. Catering staff rushed forward, handlers and body men clung to their charges, and the would-be cake eaters seemed close to blows.

In the fray that ensued, multiple delegations were trampled and injured, one central American president fainted, and two unnamed prime ministers tried to light their diminutive Italian flags on fire. But after all of that, it was when the leaders separated to their own quarters that the real trouble started. Italy and Germany were both incensed. France was appalled at the German Chancellor’s presumption, and the U.K. couldn’t abide the Italian PM’s lack of courtesy. Scandinavia as a whole sided with Germany, and Brazil supported Italy. The U.S. just seemed like it wanted to fight someone. The world split apart at the seams in an evening, and by the morning the battle plans were already being drawn. It seemed as though the entire world was on the brink of war, and some leaders had already sent requests for formal declarations of war. But just as quickly as the hostilities erupted, so too did they cease. For the entire night, while the politicians plotted and planned, the chefs returned to their kitchens determined to change the fate of the world. Painstakingly, they recreated that perfect slice countless times, making individual perfect pieces for every nation in attendance. They graciously accepted the blame for the entire incident, saying that they should have made perfect slices for each delegation to begin with. In doing so, neither German or Italian governments had to admit fault or issue an apology.

The delegations arrived at their first meetings that morning to find perfection sitting in front of them. Heated fervor of the night before melted away like the chocolate that had inspired it. They ate. They laughed. They chose a perfect peace, and ended the war before it really began.