Jon turned to look at Boggiano, “Ms. Boggiano you are barking up a tree that I can assure you is laced with poison ivy. You will not win.”
Boggiano rolled her head, “I have to try! I don’t see anyone else doing anything!”
Pacer nodded and then spoke powerfully after staring into her determined eyes for a several moments testing her resolve. “Ms. Boggiano I would like to help. But the Ponchertrain City Council is floundering due to our own significant debt issues; we barely can maintain basic services, meaning that police and city staff are going on furloughs or being let go. We may be the next Republic Power Company before the Parliament if we don’t focus our priorities. I am afraid the era of free money, and frivolous spending is over. I have heard rumblings from most business leaders that cash flows have dried up, and the economy is screeching to a halt. Why? I am not entirely sure. I am sure it has something to do with the RPC failure, and the worldwide recession. The people know of these challenges too. It is no secret on this island,” he paused, then added optimistically, “But if you did happen to bring this to people’s attention, there is a possibility you could drum up support.”
“Or fear?” Chen said crossing her legs.
“Or fear, but that’s not a good way to govern,” he cracked a grin.
“The fear of the public’s reaction should never be a reason to hold the truth from people, Mr. Mayor,” she argued.
Jon Pacer nodded his head slowly in deep thought. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a small brown envelope with something written on it. Handing it to her, “At the beginning of my term in the City Council, the gentleman’s seat I took had left behind some files. One of these files were unauthorized copies of depositions of scientists and experts, including some of the former Metropolitan Foundation Service presidents. They all warn of what kind of threat the aging system has to the community and island as a whole,” he smiled slightly, “They have been sitting in a safety deposit box at the downtown location of the Virtagwalla World Bank,” pausing he could tell he had her hanging on every word, “In the envelope is the key that opens that box.”
Sliding on his hat, and looking down at Chen, he said pleasantly “Ms. Boggiano, I think we are done here. I was just glad you didn’t want to talk anymore about the University of Virtagwalla expansion thing,” he looked off to the serenity of the fountain again. Taking a deep breath he looked down at her one last time before departing, “Good day Ms. Boggiano, enjoy the rest of your rainy afternoon,” he smiled, as he left Boggiano and the fountain behind.
25
Elisabeth Moorings’ day had been anything but usual. The morning had started out with having to deal with a misprinted quote of the President in relations to something the Virtagwalla Times thought he said about a Prince of a Middle Eastern nation. After attempting to quell those international fires, she then went about attempting to calm the Press Corp’s nerves over a variety of issues including a report from the Oceanic Board that there has been an uptick in the number of illegal whale killings this year, and that the Villaggian City Council has cancelled its annual Turnip Festival due to budgetary issues. By the end of the day Lis had reaffirmed the President’s stance on whale poaching, apologized about nineteen times to half of the world’s Muslim population, and offered solace to those who were mourning the loss of the Turnip Festival.
Bouncing into the Press Office one last time for the day, Lis opened up her notebook and quieted down the crowd of reporters, “Ok y’all I have three important announcements to make. First, the President and the First Lady will be attending the annual Pre-Kick Off party hosted by the Virtagwalla World Bank. That is expected to start a couple hours before the kick off of the annual University of Virtagwalla - University of Hawaii bragging rights football game. It should be a real hoot of a good time,” she smiled, but didn’t pause long enough to let people ask any questions, “Furthermore the President was also informed today that he is a finalist for the Larynx-Riddle Harmony Prize. The Larynx-Riddle Foundation selects and awards this distinct honor to one person per year that has gone above and beyond in their line of service to bring greater harmony and peace to mankind. President Xavier Rove is a finalist with a few other outstanding individuals. He would like thank the Larynx-Riddle Foundation for this extraordinary honor, especially as he is the first Virtagwallan to even be nominated.” She popped a small cough, and continued, “And on a personal note, I would like to wish him a very good luck. He is an extraordinary boss and empathetic leader.”
“The final thing I would like to speak to today is Parliament’s recent approval of the Larynx Light Rail Corporation’s expansion along the route of old Highway 100. Although the Parliament has put some shrewd stipulations on the size of the company’s workforce, and its timetable of construction, the President champions this move by the rail company as a progressive step towards great communication and industry between Virtagwalla’s two metropolises. Furthermore the President wants to recognize not only Eric Larynx for his hard work, but also his wife, Dr. Rachel Rove and her graduate students that helped to make all of the studies and findings a reality.”
“Lis, has the President made any other comments about Sheik Ban-Diki-Har, and specifically acknowledging the fact he criticized him on public television?”
“Hogan I believe my nineteen other briefings today on the subject fully wrapped that topic up. That’s its folks, it’s a full lid. Good night.”
26
Every year the Larynx-Riddle Foundation hosted a Gala that put all others on Earth to shame. Peter Riddle, when he was twenty-two inherited a significant share in the Virtagwallan Gold Depository Corporation from his father. Coming back to Virtagwalla after being awarded a bachelors degree from an engineering school in southeastern Missouri, he found little interest in the company. Over the next fifteen years he slowly sold all of his shares, and with the help of the new moneyed Eric Larynx established one of the largest endowed charitable organizations in the world. The Larynx-Riddle Foundation for ten years worked to not only promote education and peace on the island of Virtagwalla, but established institutions across the globe to further their organization’s goals. Much of their initial philanthropic generosity went much unnoticed until they announced they would be awarding their first Larynx – Riddle Harmony Prize. The inaugural recipient was the newly elected African American President of the United States, and he came with all the grandeur of his character to the little island to accept the award. Over a decade nine precipitants had been named, and medals bequeathed along with a cash prize to the charity of the recipients’ choosing. The recipients range from young and old, male and female, from every continent on Earth. However, no Virtagwallan had ever been nominated, let alone named the prizewinner.
When Lis Mooring announced that a letter arrived in Xavier Rove’s office on behalf of the Larynx-Riddle Foundation informing him had been selected as a finalist to receive the Prize, needless to say everyone was shocked. Rove’s candidacy had to be kept a shrewd secret until a week before the event when the finalists were announced. Up until that point Xavier Rove knew of no one else in the running. When the list of those who made the cut to be a finalist became public knowledge, Ray and Rove both squawked quickly realizing he had little to no chance of winning the award. When the day of the Gala arrived, Rove had his tuxedo delivered to Capital Tower. His week had been jammed packed with meeting, more than usual, from civic leaders and members of his own government raising red flag after red flag about fires kindling all over the island. The biggest frustrations were from Kel Goldberg in Villaggio who was exciting the people of the city by spewing negative propaganda about ‘Ponchertrain’s decision to make Virtagwalla a state!’. Regrettably for the few proceeding weeks his public appearances had waned to nearly never, due to the constant demands of his office. Thus when it came time for the Larynx-Riddle Foundation’s annual event, he was very excited to get out and socialize.
The limousine arrived shortly before six and he, Ray, Private Harvey
, and Kay Lyons climbed in. Although Rove and Ray were dressed in the most expensive tuxedoes they could find, Kay Lyons sported an elegant designer red dress that looked stunning on her frame. Private Harvey was clad in his customary dress uniform complete with a freshly polished saber. Both Ray and Rove looked at each other like a pair of frat boys when they saw Lyons coming down the grand staircase of Capital Tower. The electric limousine lurched forward silently towards downtown along the Grand Via loop in front of the Tower.
“I haven’t been to the Virtagwallan Civic Center for nearly two years. I am really excited,” Kay Lyons remarked adjusting her earring.
Ray nodded his head, “Yeah, I have to admit our Civic Center is considerably nicer than most people recognize it as being,” he shot a glance at Rove who was mindlessly looking out the window, “And Larynx-Riddle typically pull out all the stops to make their event the premier social function of the year. Two years ago, they brought in this exotic dancing troupe from New York, and they flipped and whirled all over the room. It was really quite fascinating,” he kept looking at Rove. Pausing for a moment, “Mr. President, are you feeling alright? You seem kind of out of it.”
Shrugging it off, and glancing back towards the other two occupants of the car, “Yeah, I’m doing fine. I guess I am just thinking about how busy I have been,” he paused and stroked his forehead, “This morning I saw the numbers from the most recent approval poll, and it seems the people are starting to second guess their support of me.”
Ray shot a look at Lyons; “I thought I told you yesterday, to not allow him to see that part of the paper today!”
Kay Lyons panicked, and responded, “I couldn’t help it! He took the newspaper off my desk before I even got into work today.”
Xavier Rove, still deep in thought, laughed, and looked at the two of them, “Hampton it wasn’t her fault. I started having the paper delivered to my house, so I can read it in the car,” he laughed, “You’ve been censoring my newspapers, Hampton, huh?”
Shaking his head, “Very funny Mr. President, you would suspect that. And no I have not. I just knew that this morning’s numbers were not going to be the most reassuring in comparison to the poll taken a couple months ago.”
“My approval rating has fallen nearly ten percent in the last couple months. Yeah I wouldn’t call that reassuring at all,” he stared back out the window, “The part of the article that bothered me the most though was the part claiming that I have been absent as of recently. I need to get out of my office and into the people’s living rooms again. That’s what makes me Xavier Rove, and not, that other guy,” he rolled his eyes.
“You don’t always have to compare yourself to your predecessor you know,” Ray pointed out, attempting to sooth his boss’s anxieties, “Would you like me to organize for a national address sometime this week?
Shaking his head, “No, that isn’t what the people want. More and more of them are becoming afraid about their economic situation, their futures, and I can’t blame them. I need to be working to make sure they truly have nothing to worry about. We can organize an address when I actually have something to show them, something to prove their futures are secure and in good hands.”
Lyons, wanting to get off that negative topic, gave a little cough interrupting the silence, and asked Xavier, “Mr. President, do you have anything prepared if you were to win?”
Rove instantly glinted at Ray, and cracked a small smile, “I actually do.”
“Can I get an exclusive peak?” She asked excitedly.
Chuckling and readjusting in the seat, “Would you like that? Nope, it either is going to happen once, or not at all. So keep your fingers crossed that it happens, because I think you will really like it,” he flashed one of his signature smiles, and she knew the pursuit was over.
The limousine pulled up the front circle drive of the Civic Center. In the center of the circle was a giant, brightly lit fountain. The Civic Center lived up to the hype; it was a hulking marble and granite structure that was designed nearly twenty years before by the foremost architect in the world. The blue granite that was used in places on the façade, sculpted in soft rolling waves meant to mimic the waves of the ocean, had been cut into pieces, and one by one placed beautifully in the center of Ponchertrain. Upon exiting the limousine the red carpet had been rolled out, and the flashing lights of cameras made it seem more like a movie premier than an actual philanthropic gala. Private Harvey dashed off into the building, as the entourage of the other three made their way into the Civic Center and up to the grand ballroom’s foyer.
Everyone was ushered into seats of the actual ballroom after the cocktail hour had expired. Rove always found the decorations and decor of the event as the epitome of wealth and decadence. He had only been able to attend two previous events, since he had been elected President. Prior, he wouldn’t have had enough money to buy a ticket even if he had sold his home, and elected to forgo eating for a year. Now he got one just for his position of influence. After meeting the table, and greeting a few more guests, Rove’s attention was quickly pulled to the main stage, where Eric Larynx and Peter Riddle were taking their respective lecterns to begin the show.
Adjusting his glasses, Eric Larynx cleared his throat. The exciting chatter came to a soft murmur as he began, “Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen to this beautiful room, at the heart of the greatest city in the world. Every year Peter and I like to gather our friends, colleagues, and families together in order to thank you for your generosity and your continued contributions to this city, nation, and world with the intention of making it a better place. Tonight is the tenth anniversary of the first Larynx – Riddle Foundation Annual Gala. Over the past ten years we have opened and expanded our pledge to increase education to over one hundred schools for talented youth around the world. We have spent hundreds of millions on scientific research that has produced cheaper, richer, and easier to cultivate foods, to be used in third world countries. The Larynx-Riddle Foundation has recently been recognized by the United Nations as one of the most beneficial and progressive institutions in world.”
Their was a pause for applause, and Riddle started up, winking, he eased into his portion of the speech, “With your help, we have been able to touch tens of thousands of young, innovative minds, and supply for them the same tools and opportunities that we are blessed to supply our children with here in this great nation. We have been able to feed thousands, if not millions, of people who would typically go to bed hungry. We have helped to empower those who thought they could not empower themselves. We have so much to be thankful for,” he smiled, “Although the city of Ponchertrain in recent times has begun to see the stress lines of its rapid growth and expansion, we, as a collective body, have the opportunity to ensure the future success of not only this nation, but humanity collectively.”
Again applause erupted into the air, and then Larynx continued, “Every year we gather to count our blessings, to mingle and strengthen friendships, and of course, to recognize one person for their valuable contributions to the people they serve, assist, and most importantly, inspire. This one person is selected from a pool of candidates nominated by our affiliates around the world. We give our affiliates one word in order to assist them in selecting their nominee for the Larynx-Riddle Harmony Prize: Harmony. I am proud to announce that tonight we have narrowed the candidates down to three,” pausing he turned to Riddle, “Peter, I realize we usually wait until after we eat, but can we at least give them the top three names now?”
Riddle laughed, and pulled out an envelope; “Sure,” he opened the envelope, and pulled out a piece of paper, “These three people were selected as the grand finalists from the list released just a week ago. The first,” he paused and gave a coy smile to the crowd, “Is Ms. Susan Baker of South Africa, for her diligent work to end the residual racial tensions of her nation through education, community service, and selfless sacrifice to her cause.” There was a thundering applause, and an elderly white woman stood up feebly at
the table next to Rove. The screens around the room trumpeted to life showing images of Ms. Baker in the field helping people, in the classroom teaching, and at a soup kitchen handing out bread. Ray clapped gingerly peeping at Rove with a pang of worry on his face.
Shrugging in apathy, Rove looked forward again when Riddle continued, “The second finalist is Dr. Juan Alvarez. Dr. Alvarez was elected as the mayor of the most dangerous city in Mexico two years ago on the platform of stopping at nothing to curb the violence from the drug cartels. Two bullet wounds, thirty attempted assassinations, and the kidnapping of his only son have only worked but to achieve his goal. We are proud to announce that the crime rate and drug activity have been dramatically reduced, students in area schools are testing two hundred percent better, and most importantly in a democracy, the people of his city have continually elected him to his post in each of the past four elections. His tenacity, fearless commitment, and passion for his people make him a great candidate for this award.”
Ray gave a flabbergasted scoff, and leaned forward whispering into Rove’s ear, “You’re screwed.” Swatting him out of his ear, Rove looked as Alvarez stood at the table on the side of Rove, opposite of the previous nominee, Susan Baker’s.
Allowing the applause to subside, Riddle began again, “Our third finalist is actually a record breaker for us. Never in the history of this award has a Virtagwallan made it to the top three, until now. Our third finalist is our very own President, Xavier Rove. Having been elected after one of the most disastrous Presidencies in history, he has re-humanized the office, brought the Virtagwallans together as no recent President has been able to, and has, although unpopular, made some difficult economic decisions to ensure this island’s continued economic and social progress and prosperity.”
utopia unraveling (The Virtagwala Series Book 1) Page 15