utopia unraveling (The Virtagwala Series Book 1)

by Kyle Malinowski

  Sitting up straighter, “Oh yeah; the thermal energy question. What did you find out?”

  “Well you are lucky that thermal energy manipulation falls under a field in my department,” she said opening the folder, “After a few initial conversations with Dr. Bell Montenegro, an expert in this field, he did some research and produced for me a map of locations, and his advice on them,” she began handing him the folder, but then rebuked, “Now understand, I didn’t tell anyone about the specifics of this project, so I had to make-up some pretty elaborate stories about why I needed this information from Monty, so tread with caution.”

  Grabbing the folder he looked at the top map, “He suggests building the generator in the Mounts?” Larynx asked, flabbergasted.

  She moved in closer so that she could see the map, “Yes. He explained to me, as he also did in more depth in the notes that follow,” she thumbed through some of the pages after the map, “that there is an exceptionally strong thermal vent up in the Mounts. Plus he said it would be safer from, heaven forbid, any kind of flood, or if we experienced a massive tidal shift, which could easily sweep through the low lying jungle plain,” Larynx looked concerned, so Rachel changed her approach, “It would just be safer in the Mounts. Basically because they aren’t in the jungle.”

  “Gotcha,” he said looking at the maps. He continued thumbing through the pages, “He also included sketches of thermal generators for power production?”

  Rachel smiled sitting back on her couch, after finishing the scotch, “Yes he did. He told me he knew that would be the next thing I would ask for, seeing as there are no other reasons I would be interested in some ancient thermal vents.”

  Larynx stood up and moved both of the reports to his desk, coming back to the couches Rachel asked, “So what’s the next step?”

  He smiled, “Well, I have to get some time with the Parliament. I am now not concerned with the fate of the HWY 100 rail thanks to your study. I am also not too concerned about the power plant issue either. I will pull some of my connections and see how receptive the Parliament will be to that potential business expansion as well.”

  Rachel nodded her head, “So is my job finished?”

  Larynx smiled and paused for a few moments, “I am sure I can dig some stuff up for you if that’s what you are digging at.”

  The two of them again eyed each other for a elongated moment, which was broken only by the opening of the door by Susan, “Excuse me, Mr. Larynx, your five o’clock is here.”

  Pulling out of his daze, he shook his head, and thanked Susan for letting him know. Rachel gave a nervous smile, sensing within her something she had thought was gone completely. Scrambling to get her briefcase together, and her purse, she stood up. The two of them walked to the door; when Rachel looked back noticing she had forgotten her cell phone on the couch. ‘Ugh, it must have fallen out when I was fumbling for the folders,’ she thought. Awkwardly dashing back, she grabbed it. In her flurry to get out of the office, she tripped on the fine Persian rug, lost her balance, and fell forward. Quite to her surprise, Eric had moved quickly and he caught her before she hit the floor.

  “Those damn manners again,” he joked softly, peering down into her eyes smiling. Their embrace was long, at least in Rachel’s head it seemed that way. She shut her eyes, her body went limp, and he pulled her up to a stand. Her eyes were still closed, as her breathing continue to slow down. The panic from her fall had disappeared, and in its place was this sense of a lioness stalking a wounded gazelle. Her body tensed all over, and she opened her eyes to find Eric Larynx’s piercing hers.

  She attempted to resist her face moving closer to his. Her conscience was kicking and screaming; yet something else was pulling her towards him. Her head bent slowly, and she could feel the moist breath from his nose. Rachel’s heart sprang to life, and she felt alive. ‘What am I doing?’ her mind shuffled back and forth attempting to make sense of it. The moment their lips touched, she released her grip on the purse, and it crashed into the floor. Neither of them seemed to notice. It was so natural, so real to Rachel, nothing like her and Xavier had ever experienced.

  Instantly the guilt kicked in, and Rachel panicked. She grabbed her purse, and briefcase, and said farewell to Larynx, as he attempted to comfort her. Rachel put her hand on the handle, saying more to herself than to Larynx, “What am I doing? What am I thinking? I’m married!”

  Larynx’s face was that of sheer terror, he too was wondering what had just happened, “Rachel can we talk about it?”

  Shaking her head, she clicked the handle open, “I don’t think there is anything to talk about. Good day, Mr. Larynx.” Dashing out of the office, she cut through the foyer, and headed straight for the station below. Her conscience, which had been shushed out in the moment, was now loud and outraged at what just happened. A boulder had settled in Rachel’s stomach as she boarded her private Carriage to go home. When she looked back at the stairs she had just descended, it was empty and dark. She looked out of the window at the city zooming past her, taking a deep breath and attempting to make sense of what had just unfolded.

  23

  Xavier Rove rarely came home early during the week. Typically his schedule kept him well into the evening hours going through notes and speeches from the day that he had missed or skipped. This particular night however, he was able to escape and make it home early. He was surprised to find when he got home his wife’s car in the garage; however she was nowhere to be found. Mikey had come home with a buddy’s mother from soccer practice, and went about eating some dinner. Xavier, passing on the dinner that was prepared by their chef, opted to go with a handmade grilled cheese. Private Harvey who was continuing with his assignment stood guard at the front door of the house surveying the property. The sun was setting when Rachel got home, coming in looking deep in thought and heavily stressed. She didn’t say anything, just dropped her bags, and went straight for the wine rack.

  Watching his wife curiously, “Good to see you hunny. How was work today?” he asked confused.

  She poured herself a large glass of chardonnay, and took some hefty swigs, “Ugh, it was fine. I had a meeting with Eric Larynx down at the Larynx Light Rail Corporate offices though, so I wasn’t at the University very long today.”

  Going back to his grilled cheese, “Oh yeah, you working for him now? You know I suggested you for that environmental impact thing he needed?”

  She glared at him judging how to react. Taking a sip, she shuffled off, “Well thank you for that. He offered me a job. At least I think. And if he did, I think I might take it. It means I would be there often, and doing odd jobs for him. Who knows, it might be exciting,” she stopped and looked at Mikey, turning back towards Xavier, “What are you doing home so early tonight?”

  He smiled, “I told Ray I was taking an early night to spend it with the family.”

  “Cute,” she replied sarcastically looking at Private Harvey, “Well then you can take your son to Boy Scouts tonight. I am going to take a bubble bath. Don’t bother me,” she spat, walking back to the counter, grabbing the bottle, and shuffling out of the kitchen towards their bedroom.

  The two Rove men spoke for a few moments, allowing the stink of Rachel’s attitude to dissipate in the air. Mikey, when he was finished, rushed off to his room to get dressed in his uniform and to grab his Boy Scout Handbook. When the two Rove men and Private Harvey piled into their SUV and Harvey pushed the button to start it, they were already knee deep in reminiscing about Xavier’s days in Boy Scouts.

  “You know that your pops and Uncle Anthony are both Eagle Scouts?” Xavier Rove gloated, as they rolled down the drive.

  “Yes dad,” Mikey sighed looking out over the darkened yard.

  The ride was relatively silent. When they arrived, Mikey ran in while Rove and Private Harvey followed, filing in line with some of the other parents in the back. Rove didn’t speak to anyone at the meeting, not even Private Harvey, until Mikey’s Troop’s Scoutmaster, Harry Kingston, walked
over and shook hands with him.

  “Good to see you President Rove,” Harry Kingston remarked shaking Rove’s hand.

  “How are you Harry? It has been a while since I’ve seen you,” Rove said crossing his arms and looking at the boys, as Kingston did the same except placing his hands in his pockets.

  “I, actually, was in your neck of the woods a couple weeks ago working with the Prime Minister and Finance Minister Sensado on the Republic Power bond deal. Outside of that, I am just trying to survive,” he said smiling, “Your boy is doing really well with this stuff. He is truly a leader amongst these guys.”

  “It runs in the Roves’ Blood,” Xavier smiled, “You know I and my younger brother are both Eagle Scouts?”

  Kingston grinned, and remarked, “You don’t say,” he turned to Xavier, “Well, now that I know our President is an Eagle Scout, I am not at all worried about our nation being in your hands.”

  The two men laughed, and fell silent. Kingston then asked as the troop proceeded with their meeting, “So are you going to the UV football game when they play Hawaii in a couple weeks?”

  Rove laughed dropping his arms, “Oh yea, I completely forgot about that I’ve been so busy recently. Of course I am going. I am assuming you are as well?”

  Nodding his head, “Yes yes, for sure, I wouldn’t miss the biggest rivalry game of the year. Especially since it’s here in Ponchertrain this year,” he looked at Rove and became more serious, “Although I am a proud graduate of Villaggio College, I always support my Dragons when I know we are against Hawaii.”

  “It should be a good game, I very excited,” Rove said enthusiastically, “From all of my reports the team is looking very healthy this year! One can only hope they pull through with a win. The people of this city could really use one right about now.”

  “I think the people of this island could use one,” Kingston added chuckling. Turning back to Rove, “Say, did you get the Virtagwalla World Bank’s invitation for our annual pre-game bash?”

  “I’m not too sure, let me just check my calendar,” Rove said pulling out his blackberry, “Hampton Ray puts things in here and I have no idea,” he paused again, and then nodded, “It doesn’t seem so.”

  “Ok well, you are of course invited as you have been for years. It will be that Saturday afternoon, right before the game. Just block out your calendar from three to kick off, and I will get all the details to you as soon as I get home,” Kingston said turning back to the scouts. “I mean the game is next weekend so it’s coming up here!”

  “I am sure my invite is somewhere either at the house or in the office,” Rove attempted to explain putting his phone away, “Things have just been so crazy recently, with everything that has been going on. Especially ever since this whole United Bank of Britain collapse, and then Minister Blanco’s witch-hunt of financially insolvent banks; I’ve been having to calm fears all over this island about our economic future.”

  “I am sure the layoffs at the Metropolitan Foundation Service aren’t helping your cause either,” Kingston said shaking his head.

  “No they are not,” Rove gave a flat chuckle, “Well with any hope, all of this recession talk will fade away, and we can get back on track,” he paused again, and then sighed, “I am just afraid that we can’t hide from the rest of the world for much longer. Eventually this economic ugliness is bound to come to our shores, and if it does, we’re really going to be in a pickle.”

  Kingston stared straight ahead, mumbling, “We better sure as hell try and hide as long as possible.”

  Rove asked him what he had said, but Harry Kingston merely shook his head, and walked off to the front of the room, stepping back into his role as Scoutmaster to close the chapter meeting.

  24

  Park Giza was an enormous urban park, nestled in the heart of Ponchertrain. Its western edge bordered the light rail monument, Larynx Central Station, and to its north was the University of Virtagwalla. The classic architecture of the University was echoed through many of the features in the Park. To its eastern border was an iconic white building that many people notice because of its striking presences but very few knew its importance. The building was the home to an official hall of the United Nations’ General Assembly. Although the official world headquarters is located in Manhattan, New York City, this building was erected during the organization’s earliest years, and many meetings took place on the island, especially important ones concerning the outbreak of the Korean War. In the early 1960s a summit was held in Ponchertrain, which drew the attention of the world. This meeting was held in accordance with The Virtagwallan World’s Fair, where millions and millions of people flocked to the little, yet prosperous island. During this event, Park Giza came into existence.

  History tells that in preparations for the event, almost 50 square blocks of dilapidated factories east of the growing financial district were bulldozed, and an elaborate plan was unfolded to produce the rolling hills of a meadow in the center of Ponchertrain. The result was considered at that time the most beautiful park in the world. Speckled through the landscape were monuments, statutes, and pieces of culture and art that accentuated the Virtagwallan people. The World’s Fair went off without a hitch, and during the closing days of the United Nation’s Summit, the President of Virtagwalla unveiled the centerpiece of Park Giza. Located in the center of the northwestern quadrant, a magnificent fountain had been assembled. It was revolutionary in the way that its materials had been used, and the height the water jettisoned into the air. When people saw it, young and old alike, they were amazed by its beauty and power. A plaque was laid at the bottom of the fountain with a line from the President’s speech at the dedication, “The way man has harnessed water has been one of its most wondrous hallmarks for cities and cultures for centuries. We, as the people, live by it and die by it. It embodies who we are as a people. In turn, we exemplify what it means. Let the waters all around us always remind us of the freedoms we enjoy in Virtagwalla, and that it is our shared identity that will successfully carry us into the future.” It was named the Chernobyl Peace Fountain, after the artist who envisioned it and was commissioned by the city to construct it.

  The Chernobyl Peace Fountain’s importance and cultural impact had faded to the point of simply being a fountain in a park by the day that the snooping journalist Chen Boggiano, with her red trench coat and matching red umbrella slowly moved through the park towards it. When she reached the fountain she checked her watch, and moved off to a small covered bench overlooking the fountain. Sitting down she closed her umbrella and leaned it against the bench. Taking out her mirror and lipstick she began applying it. In her mirror, she saw behind her the man that she was hoping would be approaching. His broad shoulders and balding head were recognizable even through her small mirror. Putting the make-up in her purse, she folded her hands and placed them on her lap.

  The man, Mayor Jon Pacer, walked under the cover, closed his umbrella, looked around, and sat down. He took a few moments to appreciate the fountain; it had always been one of his favorite parts of the island. When he was younger his mother would bring him to play in it. ‘No children played in Chernobyl nowadays,’ he thought to himself depressed.

  “Ms. Boggiano, why are we meeting at the Chernobyl fountain?” Jon Pacer asked sighing.

  She didn’t look at him, but said in a soft voice, “Did you bring anyone? A body guard, police officer, lawyer?” she asked mysteriously.

  “I didn’t know I would need any of those individuals,” he remarked flatly.

  “Good,” she quipped, reaching into her bag. Pulling out an envelope, she placed it in Pacer’s accepting hand.

  Looking at her, rolling his eyes, he opened the envelope, and began scanning the pieces of paper inside. His face moved from annoyed to interested, and back to annoyed, “What do you want from me Ms. Boggiano?”

  She chuckled, “You don’t want to know any details of where I got these?”

  He sighed, and handed the envelope back t
o her, “No Ms. Boggiano, because it said at the top who it came from. And to say this is the first time I have heard this concern about the Metropolitan Foundation Services’ subterranean system, or even seen these, I would be lying to you,” he said flipping the envelope in his hand.

  She flashed her eyes at him, shocked, “You’ve heard of this before? You have seen the testimonies, and you have done nothing about it? We could be looking at the largest, most devastating event in Virtagwallan history, and you are telling me this is old news to you?”

  Jon Pacer heaved, and gazed into the fountain, “Ms. Boggiano, I completely agree with you. The President and Parliament are concerned with this recession issue, and the concern of chopping down some trees over in the jungle over building a new light rail line, but when a threat like this is presented to them, and has been for the past twenty years or so, truthfully, they turn a blind eye.”

  She gasped, “They’ve known for more than twenty years this could potentially happen at any minute and they’ve done nothing?”

  Pacer nodded, “Frustrating, I realize.”

  “And you’ve done nothing? You’re the mayor of Ponchertrain, and you haven’t been waving this flag, making a ruckus or hell, even knocking down the doors of Parliament, screaming about how all of this around us could be gone?”

  Folding his arms, “I have taken this to the Prime Minister, and I was told, ‘Virtagwallan engineering is the greatest in the world. We have nothing to worry ourselves. And why make the people panicked?’”

  “Have you tried President Rove? I bet President Rove, of all of them would do something! I mean, he was the mayor of this place, he has to at least care a little about Ponchertrain,” Chen attempted to rationalize.