A long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away, and considerably less fictional than one might expect, lived a queen who could out-charm, out-strategise, and let's be honest, out-dress any influencer of today. Yes, I'm speaking of the remarkable Cleopatra VII, the last active ruler of the Ptolemaic Kingdom of Egypt. But what if the canny Cleopatra had been blessed with a tool much mightier than the sword or even the seduction talents of a Marc Antony? What if Cleopatra had Facebook to orchestrate her majestic manoeuvres? Grab your scrolls and set your Facebook relationship status to "It's complicated," because we're diving into a Nile of social networking intrigue.
Networking a Nile-wide Net
Imagine Cleopatra opening her Facebook account with a profile picture that would easily outshine the light of Ra himself, complete with golden asp accessories and unmistakable kohl-lined eyes that could launch a thousand ships, or at least ten thousand likes. Her profile would claim she 'Works at: Queen of Egypt' and is well versed in ancient languages, economics, and politics. Talk about a delectable LinkedIn-quality CV.
Let's face it, Cleopatra's Situation Updates would be more epic than a Homeric poem. "Just allied with Rome today. Fingers crossed for a new trade agreement." Her ability to sway opinions and garner allies would see her Friend List expanding faster than the Roman Empire. One Stratego-level move at a time.
Rome, Rome, Like Away!
Cleopatra, known for her diplomatic prowess, would use Facebook as her international relations tool. Picture it: a Private Group Chat with Caesar and Cicero ("The Roman Senate, 101, Caesar Salad Exclusive Edition"). She could post cryptic memes to maintain her enigmatic allure while carefully choosing the emojis and hashtags: #GodlessGoddess, #QueenVibes, #SlayTheDayWithSphinx.
Of course, she'd have to navigate the tricky terrain of Roman gossip, as The Daily Scroll (a favourite publication of the time, obviously) would likely flourish on her juicy status updates. "Spotted: Cleopatra and Antony on a papyrus yacht in the Tiber. Are they or aren't they?" We can only imagine the travails of her PR team as they craft a cunning wall post that simply says, "What happens on the Nile stays on the Nile."
When Too Many Likes Spoil the Plot
But not all is fair in love and Facebook. Cleo's Wall would not only rack up likes but also, potentially, a few angry face reactions. Picture a newsfeed meltdown when an allegiance faux pas, or a particularly incendiary "Who Wore the Toga Better" poll, upsets the olive cart. A "Friend Request" from Octavian would be the digital equivalent of being blocked. After all, the real-world rivalry between Cleopatra and Octavian would translate into a series of scathing subtweets; though even the sharpest of them can't quite match a well-timed assassination attempt.
Maybe she'd have to manage a few Public Apologies for sending precious Alexandrian library scrolls into eternal oblivion. "Can everyone stop shouting 'too soon'? They've only had 2,000 forgetful years," she might post in complete exasperation, with an eye-roll emoji that would, naturally, become iconic.
Influencing with Asp-tounding Effect
Still, she'd embrace her role as the original influencer, perhaps converting those famous Nile cruises into picturesque Insta-Updates, "Today we dine on pomegranates and diplomacy." Reality shows featuring Cleo would abound faster than you could say 'Eternal Summer', with the addition of the occasional dramatic episode like "The Rumours of Tomb Breakers and Mediterranean Meddlers."
Modern-day Cleopatra memes would abound. "It wasn't me," the caption would read, overlaying her best Mona-Lisa-esque smirk amidst ancient architecture backdrops, each post featuring potential commentaries like, "How she stole Caesar's heart, and Rome's wifi."
Prelude to Political Posts
As coups and dynasties thrive on communication, Cleopatra would undoubtedly exploit the digital reach for rallying her forces and alignments. Think Town Hall Meetings livestreamed, complete with a Q&A for the populace. Meanwhile, across the Mediterranean, an Octavian-led faction might plot algorithmic antics to 'shadowban' the queen's news.
Ultimately, the ironities of social media wouldn't be lost on Cleopatra. Facebook, like the Nile at its annual flood, springs abundant opportunities and tumult. Yet, just like sands through the hourglass, the true test of a queen is how she wields her connections, both digital and dusty-dated.
Regardless of what platform, physical or digital, Cleopatra might have found herself on, one thing is certain: her dominion would have been as vast as it was intriguing. With a little digital leverage and a gold-plated phone case to match her crown, the original Nefertweeti would have taken her kingdom, and maybe even Trended Global, with elegance fit for a queen. What new marvel could she achieve if she didn't need to worry about papyrus running out?
