Picture this: the year is 44 BC, and Julius Caesar is about to waltz his way into history as a dictator with a penchant for power. However, let us take a quantum leap forward in time and slip smartphones into the hands of the Romans. Go on, set your imagination to ‘selfie mode’, after all, if one must cross the Rubicon, why not do it with a full battery and a 4G connection?
Dial 'R' for Rubicon
With telecommunications at his fingertips, Caesar can now conduct business from any corner of the empire, including dark alleyways that lead straight to the Ides of March. Appointed Dictator Perpetuo (not available in a yearly subscription), Caesar must be careful with his emojis. After all, what is a thumbs-up but an invitation for a few conspirators to queue the Ed Sheeran tracks at your demise?
First things first: Caesar’s a man on the move, and he knows the importance of sharing every milestone with his organisation. With instant messaging, the ominous "Et tu, Brute?" might have been a group text, complete with questionable memes and surprised emojis from unsuspecting senators.
Rome Wasn't Built in a Day, But It Was Documented
Much to the irritation of historians and future scholars, watch as Caesar gathers snapshots of every architectural wonder only to upload them onto Instagram. The Pantheon? Hashtagged. The Coliseum? Selfie mode, naturally. With geotags marking his territory (as if crossing the Rubicon wasn’t enough), Caesar becomes an influencer, sending every gladiatorial clash trending on Twitter faster than you can say "veni, vidi, viral."
As the selfies pile on, so do the comments, with rivals like Pompey attempting snarky retorts. You can almost imagine Spartacus scrolling through his feed, silently disapproving of yet another leather-bound toga shot.
Caesar and the Senate's New 'Face'Down
As Roman politics begin to resemble a reality show, the Senate soon finds itself torn between consolidation and conspiracy. With the Senate group chat going ‘mute’ and Mark Antony dubbing himself creative director, Caesar must manage ego and algorithms alike.
In a stunning plot twist, Caesar's very own social media manager, Brutus, opens a Snapchat account dedicated to the foibles of high office, complete with gentle ribbing and harrowing Truth Hurts TikTok trends. A betrayal so profound, it became history’s first viral scandal.
Push Notifications and Pre-emptive Strikes
You see, here’s where Caesar’s keen on upping his smartphone game: armed with push notifications, he can pre-empt rebellions quicker than you can upload an update. With the ability to instantly communicate orders, Caesar expands his quest for dominion with unrivalled efficiency, defying even Cleopatra’s most impressive eyeliner application times.
And so, with an empire in one palm and an iPhone in the other, Caesar finds himself at peace with his role as both an immortal legend and an unwilling meme. Never has an emperor had so much power to order a Nespresso from Gaul, or to instruct his legionnaires to "Like, Follow, Conquer."
Hypothetical as it may be, the tale ends with the inevitable, the phone battery dies, the Wi-Fi password is lost in the annals of time, and once more, Rome must carry on by the old and endlessly scrollable art of parchment and pen.
