utopia unraveling (The Virtagwala Series Book 1)

by Kyle Malinowski

  One of the blessings of his role in society as a successful businessman was that he was able to participate in many of the nation’s largest philanthropic endeavors. Personally he pledged millions to establish the Larynx-Riddle Charter Schools Foundation. Originally designed as a set of three highly proficient high schools that were meant to educate Virtagwalla’s gifted and underprivileged youth for a technological future, the system soon grew into over a hundred schools across the globe making significant differences in the nations they were located. Peter Riddle had always been a good friend of Larynx. Riddle, the President of the Metropolitan Foundation Service, ran a tough business. They both were very busy people, but always seemed to find time each month to get lunch and catch up. It was just a few minutes till noon when Larynx, hard at work approving new schedules for Carriages, was interrupted by the polite knock of his secretary. She walked in; her hair weaved tightly into a beehive on top of her head.

  “Mr. Larynx, Mr. Riddle’s office just called, he is in a Carriage heading over now,” she bowed and began to roll out of the office when he called for her to stop.

  “Susan, can you do me a favor? Can you please get in contact with Dr. Rachel Rove at the University of Virtagwalla?” Eric Larynx articulated standing up, shuffling some papers.

  “Of course sir, but I may need to know a reason before contacting her?” Susan asked curiously.

  “Can you just ask her to call me? Give her my personal cell phone number and I will be happy to explain everything. Her husband, Xavier Rove, told me-” he was cut off by Susan’s anxious squeal.

  “As in Xavier Rove, the President? You want me to get in contact with the First Lady?” Susan laughed breezily.

  Eric looked at her, “Yes, yes I do,” he chuckled a bit, “President Rove told me she is an Environmental Engineer and that she might be able to help with the Highway 100 environmental analysis. Can you get a hold of her for me, please?” he asked again, looking right at her.

  Blushing she bowed her head, “Of course sir. I will pass that message along to her.” She quickly left, closing the door behind her.

  Eric Larynx took a moment to look at the enormous digital screen on his wall. It was the grid of his rails all over the island. He could see a carriage leaving from Capital Square Station, ‘where is the President going now?’ he thought to himself jokingly as he made sure he had his phone and keys. He noticed on the board as well, the carriage having departed from near the MFS Building, arriving into the terminal below.

  Within moments, there was another knock on his door – he could already hear Riddle’s voice before the door was opened.

  “Tell your husband hello for me Susan, I haven’t got to see him recently. Tell him we need to do a round of golf real soon,” the charming Peter Riddle howled moving into Larynx’s office, while still beaming his legendary smile at Eric’s secretary.

  Decupling his attention, the affable Peter Riddle turned to his new target, “Eric Larynx, my old friend, how are you?” he gingerly asked with his hand extended.

  Larynx replied cheekily, “Always a socialite Peter. Do you know everyone on this island?” The both laughed; knowing the answer to that question was most likely a solid yes. The two men left Larynx’s office, and headed down the grandiose staircase into the bustling platform area of central station’s terminal. Larynx had Susan organize a private Carriage for him and Riddle to ride in for lunch. After climbing aboard, the glass bubble jettisoned off along the tracks. After a fifteen-minute ride they came to a stop in upper Maynard. Climbing down from the elevated platform atop the Sherman General Store, they walked across the street to their favorite restaurant. The owner of the restaurant, Bonito Rizzi, always was given a heads up when the two special guests were coming. He would spend his morning setting up a special table for the two men on the roof, amongst the garden Bonito tended to after hours.

  “Thank you Bonito. Your tomatoes seem to be coming in nicely,” Riddle pointed out as they pulled out their chairs from under the covered table.

  “Oh yes,” he responded with this thick Italian accent, “This has been a great season for tomatoes. Simply magnificante!” he said kissing his fingers and throwing them in the air.

  Eric Larynx and Peter Riddle both scoffed. Riddle commented, “Bonito, Bring us the usual, and throw in a Cesar Salad for me today. How about you Eric? Want a salad?”

  Larynx shut the menu, “No I think my usual lasagna will be perfect today. Oh and can I get an iced tea to begin,” he smiled at his friend, “I am sure, we’ll move to the wine in a bit,” he said handing the menu to Bonito.

  “Anything for you Mr. Larynx! Just let me know if you need anything,” he offered, scurrying away.

  After Larynx and Riddle swapped the usual stories about their families, and updates from the schools, their food was delivered. The piece of lasagna served for Larynx was the size of his head, while the Chicken Parmesan that Riddle ordered had practically an entire chicken smothered in Italian goodness.

  “I swear you could feed a family of four with these portions,” Riddle joked digging into his meal.

  “That’s why I take it home. Give’s my cook a night to rest, and allows her the opportunity to enjoy some delicious Italian food,” Larynx gargled, his mouth half full.

  Swallowing, Riddle set in, “So how is the rail industry? Is all going well?”

  Larynx nodded his head, “Yes. Unfortunately our rider capacity has remained steady for the past couple months. Which in the old days may be a bit concerning. But today, if you were to ask me, I am perfectly fine with it. I have become a little concerned with this whole Republic Power Company thing. I mean we are the largest consumers of RPC power, and if for whatever reason they were to go out of business, our lines would go dead,” Larynx swallowed another bite, while seeming to be in deep thought. Shrugging, “Outside of that all else is going well,” he took a drink of his iced tea.

  “And what about this highway 100 project? I hear you have run into some snags with the fickle Parliament,” Riddle asked, his fork raised to his mouth.

  “Yes one massive snag,” Larynx rolled his eyes and joked, “and that would be the stinking Parliament. Politicians always want something for nothing. Now, they want a comprehensive environmental impact study on what my tracks along old Highway 100 will do to the jungle surrounding it. The problem is, as I tried to explain to them, it is incredibly difficult to find someone who could do it thoroughly.”

  “What about the University, I am sure they have someone over there?”

  Larynx swallowed again, “Yeah, I recently learned that Rachel Rove, you know, the First Lady, is an Environmental Engineer. Hopefully she will be able to help. Her husband tipped me off to her. So I’m getting in contact with her to see if we could work something out, “ he wiped his mouth with his napkin and snapped back, “But enough with me how is the Metropolitan Foundation Service. I see we are all still above the water, so I am assuming it’s still going well.”

  Riddle sighed and put down his fork, “We are doing fine. For now,” patting his mouth, Larynx could tell some unfavorable news was about to come out, “I myself am having problems with our noble and wise Parliament. The government has only approved funding for us till the end of the month. That’s in two weeks. If they don’t approve the funding beyond the end of the month, we will be forced to lay off workers, and delay some maintenance projects that really should have begun months ago.”

  Larynx lowered his fork, “The Parliament hasn’t funded the MFS? Aren’t you an administration or sect of the government?”

  “Not exactly. Technically we are a wholly state owned corporation. We are kind of like the Virtagwalla Gold Depository Corporation, but unlike VirtGold, we do not have shareholders. That means that while VirtGold is primarily owned by the National Government, the Government owns one hundred percent of the Metropolitan Foundation Service. At this time, we have no outside sources of revenue or financing.”

  “So if you don’t get funded from the Pa
rliament, you have no other option?” Larynx asked confused.

  Riddle took a deep breath, attempting to organize is thoughts, “Yes and no. I guess we should be getting money from the Ponchertrain City Council, and the National Parliament, but for as long as I could remember the National Parliament has completely funded the MFS. I mean it makes sense. We are the only line of defense against their jewel box floating city from sinking into the ocean.”

  Larynx laughed, “So true. Well I would try to contact Secretary of Finance Jacqueline Sensado’s office. If you feel you won’t get anywhere with that, I would seriously think about contacting the Mayor of Ponchertrain. Unfortunately his name is escaping me right now?

  Riddle coughed, “Jon Pacer.”

  “Yes that’s right, Jon Pacer, he might be able to help as well or at least point you in the direction of finding something to help.”

  Riddle nodded, “Jon was next on my list of people to contact. My staff has done the studies and we can technically operate with only twenty percent of the staff for about four months. But that would be extremely difficult, and like I said, that’s assuming we cut out all maintenance projects.”

  Taking the bill from Bonito, as the plump Italian man shuffled to their table to remove the empty platters, Larynx commented, “I would say Mayor Pacer would be your best bet. Sensado has her hands pretty full right now with this whole RPC issue. And the Parliament probably doesn’t want to continue bleeding its budget if they think there could be some pretty hefty expenses coming down the pipeline.”

  “What kind of expenses?” Riddle asked, “The Government has operated at a surplus for nearly four decades. I don’t see that trend reversing anytime soon. Do you?”

  Larynx slid his credit card into the bill’s leather pamphlet, “I don’t know, I’ve have this terrible feeling that the Republic Power Company is not going be the last we hear of financial woes on this island. The collapsing financial empires overseas are bound to catch up with us. I just hope we stop it in time. If not, Rove and the rest of the Government will have their work cut out for them.”

  12

  The Executive Press Corp room was alive with action. “Lis, I have been hearing rumors of some budgetary changes being made in the Parliament and authorized by the President, can you speak to any of those?”

  Elisabeth Mooring, the frustrated President’s Executive Press Secretary, gave a small chuckle and she looked down at her notes. She had just been announcing President Rove’s newest ambassadorial appointments when she asked the wrong person for a question. Now searching for notes she looked back up, “I’m sorry Ted but can you clarify your statement for me?”

  “Sure,” the balding man replied, “Can you please speak to some of the budgetary changes that the Parliament has made recently and then signed by the President? Specifically funding to the Ponchertrain Park District, Virtagwalla General Hospital, and the Metropolitan Foundation Service. Just to name a few.”

  Looking down again, “I’m sorry Ted I don’t have anything on that. I will get back to you at the two thirty briefing after lunch. That’s it folks.”

  Lis swooped out the back door, into the hallway, and up the elevator to the Executive Floor. Knocking softly she look in her boss’s office to find Hampton Ray eating lunch and watching something on his computer screen.

  “Can I interrupt you for a minute sir?” She asked peeping around the door.

  “Yes, yes sure Lis come in,” Hampton Ray said waving his arms. “What up?”

  “I got a question this morning and I didn’t know the answer because I was unaware of topic about which the reporter was asking,” she opened up her notebook.

  “What was the question?” Ray asked taking another bike of his sandwich.

  “Do you know anything about the President signing something from the Parliament concerning budgets? Specifically I think the parliament is not funding them or something,” she inquired.

  Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he replied, “Late last week, the President signed a Parliament resolution that stopped payment after a certain date to many of our good will ventures. This was done because the bank account is draining much faster than its loading and there was some concern of,” he shook his head, “- nothing to worry about though. It was done to protect the Treasury and conserve some of our resources.”

  “I’ve gotcha,” she continued, “And how does the President feel about that?”

  “Well he is regretful that the action must be taken, but it is necessary to ensure the integrity of the budget.”

  “Thank you sir,” she responded standing up.

  13

  Artimus Zhang loved Virtagwalla. He had served diligently for forty years as a Minister representing the neighborhood of Maynard. He and the four other representatives from Maynard were a cohesive and sturdy group, which argued for justice and democracy whenever either issue seemed to be under fire in the Parliament. Outlasting the other three men that were elected his same year, Zhang would go on to be the longest serving Minister in the history of the National Government of Virtagwalla. He, for all practical purposes, had built the government from what it meekly did during the days of the Provisional Territory Government under the United States Navy into a body that was not only thriving, but had truly explosive power. He was born in Ponchertrain and raised in a very rough and tumble portion of the city. Zhang never attended college, or sought any form of formal education beyond the high school level.

  Bitterly patriotic, Artimus Zhang’s personality would sometimes lead him to having enemies simply from pure intimidation. Although he had extensive experience, the human element of Artimus Zhang never seemed to soften. With a history like his, everyone seemed to understand. His father had left before he was born, and his mother took a .22 to the temple when he was ten. After being passed around from one foster home to the next, he eventually set himself out to pay his own way. At eighteen he graduated from high school and got a job clerking for a High Courts Judge. It was exciting work for such a young man, but at the time he saw it as a means to an end. Ever since he had been young and he watched the great world leaders on the television and silver screen during the newsreels, directing their militaries and telling their people what to do or think; he wanted to be just like them. At the ripe age of twenty he ran for his first election. He lost. Four years later he fought bitterly for it. This time fate gave him a chance. He never gave up his seat until the day he announced he was running for the position of President.

  That had been his dream since the very moment he stepped into Capital Tower on his first day of the Parliamentary Session. Thinking it was a sure thing, he intimidated all of his feasible competition out of running by generating large amounts of campaign financing very early on. Looking as though Artimus Zhang would run and win the Presidency unopposed for the first time in history, a young rising politician came out of the city hall of Ponchertrain, and it left Zhang lost and confused for the remainder of the elections. The thick skinned, affable, and personable young mayor of Ponchertrain had stepped up to contest the political juggernaut for the presidency. The race was painful to say the least. Zhang struggled to maintain finances while it seemed to just pour in for Xavier Rove.

  He could remember the moment he realized he had lost the election. It was the night before the polls opened and he sat in a shady tavern in lower Maynard with another Minister. The Minister told Artimus Zhang, “Xavier Rove has what the people want. Not necessarily what they need. He speaks beautifully, spreads the word of hope and change and progress, and does it effectively. Hell, I’m motivated by him until I realize his experience is shit, and his capacity to lead a nation is that of my daughter’s German Sheppard. But he’s what the people want. Not some crummy old politician who could sure as hell do a better job.”

  Zhang was devastated when he received the phone call informing him he had lost the Presidency. He shut himself up in his home in Maynard, and made no contact with the outside world. He never even called Rove to congratulate him
on his victory. It was a demoralizing blow to his ego and pride, leading to his immediate resignation from the Parliament. Little did he know but his resignation would be the best move he had ever made politically. The dramatic response to Zhang’s resignation by the Virtagwallan people helped to catapult his candidacy as the Prime Minister, Rove’s Head of Government and pseudo vice president, which constitutionally was elected by the Parliament - not by the people. Three weeks after losing the election of his life, he was unanimously approved as the new Prime Minister. The first person to call to congratulate him was Xavier Rove.

  Artimus Zhang fully believed without a shred of doubt that Xavier Rove looked up to him. He was the political power, to Xavier’s silver tongue – they were a deadly duo. Artimus typically would run guns blazing into a situation, while Rove would ease into the situation, take a level head to it, and redirect Zhang’s passion. It was this passion that drove Artimus Zhang to become the Chairman of the National Conversion Commission: the commission put together by the President with the purpose of preparing the operations of the national government to become the newest state in the United State. The commission had to work diligently to ensure the absorption into the United States went as smoothly as possible. It had been a long and tiring process, having to work closely with a committee of Graduate students from the University of Virtagwalla and the liaison from the United State’s Senate, Senator Charles Teasdale. Teasdale was by no means new to the island of Virtagwalla, having served as the Ambassador to the island nation from the United States government for decades prior to his election to the US Senate. Senator Charles Teasdale was born and raised in Hawaii, and lived the majority of his adult life in the Aloha State. In that capacity, he was considered a great mentor for the National Conversion Commission.