Miffed, Riddle began his tale, “The reason Jon Pacer and I are here is that we share, a concern towards a threat to our national security. The MFS every year relies on the monies appropriated from the National Parliament to fund its yearly budget. The MFS is a wholly owned corporation whereupon the National Government, through the Ministry of Finance, holds 100% of the shares of the company seeing as the city of Ponchertrain and the nation of Virtagwalla are our soul clients. For the past sixty years since it’s founding the organization has received its funding from the national Parliament. This year the Parliament has decided to not approve that vital funding.”
Rove pinched the bridge of his nose turning to Sensado, “Rebuttal?”
Jacqueline Sensado, being the Minister of Finance, opened up her folder and removed a piece of paper, “From the National Parliament of the Island Nation of Virtagwalla. The Metropolitan Foundation Service since its conception and chartering 63 years ago the Parliament has funded 100% of its budget. This amount has steadily increased till today where the price tag to operate the MFS stands at 1/100th the budget of the National Government. Since the advent of higher electricity prices due to the Republic Power Company’s near collapse, the amount of money the Government is taking in through taxes has shrunk, causing us to be more conscious of our expenses. Since the Social Net, the bundle of entitlement programs that includes the public health care system, unemployment benefits, and the education systems, drains a significant portions of the budget it was given top priority. Unfortunately, that decision left very little remaining in the treasury. Therefore the other expenses, such as Metropolitan Foundation Service’s annual budget, were placed in a category requiring further analysis. We have reason to believe the necessity of the MFS is not considered a national priority and will have to go unfunded until the required funds can be collected either by a raise in taxes, or supplemented from a different source. This hereby was voted on unanimously by the Parliament of Virtagwalla,” she took her eyes off the page, “This was dated five days ago,” she said handing the piece of paper to the President.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Ray walked in. Saying hello to everyone in the room he asked for the President’s attention for just a moment. Excusing himself from the table, Xavier scooted out into the hallway.
Sighing while rubbing his temples, “Thanks, I needed a breath,” Xavier quipped cracking his neck, “Ok Ray what do you have for me?”
Handing him a piece of paper, “Well it seems Blanco does have some type of evidence, however he has been provoked to keep it silent for a while.”
“By who? Us?” Xavier responded.
“No, not by us.”
“Than by who?” he pried.
“Blanco won’t budge on this, but he said he has memos on weak banks sitting right here on the island,” Ray heaved.
“Well than we need to either make sure he does just lay on it, or somehow get it out of him,” Xavier said checking his watch, “I need to get back in there.”
Walking back into the room, he apologized for his rudeness and encouraged the parties to continue with the sparing.
Riddle leaned forward, his temper slowly rising, “How are you going to say the importance of the MFS has come into question? We keep this place afloat, literally!”
Rove put the paper down, “Okay, people I need something clarified. I have read, and reread the brief on the Metropolitan foundation Service and that you continually tout your slogan of “keeping this place afloat”. But what exactly does that mean? Is it just something snappy to put on your sign or something cool to plaster on Frisbees?”
Riddle pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, “Well Mr. President as I am aware you are buff of history so let me share with you an interesting tale from Virtagwallan lore. Sixty or so years ago, a Cannon 62-8 Military grade Class A submarine returning back to the island after deploying for training exercises lost control approaching the Ponchertrain shipping yards and slammed into one of the outer most barrels upon which Ponchertrain has been built. As you can imagine, the ship punctured the barrel, and subsequently it sunk leaving the harbor and the island devastated. It helped the people to realize the city of Ponchertrain wasn’t quite like every other city in the world, and in fact required different measures to keep it safe. In response the National Parliament chartered the Metropolitan Foundation Service to conceive a plan on how to prevent another disaster from happening. What they came up with was a collaboration of the greatest minds of the day,” he drew out a couple barrels, then placed the ground above it, and then buildings on top of that. Pointing to the picture, “The system they installed under the city is a lattice work of pipes connecting each barrel with the others. Buried in the earthen ground above the barrels, each one is punctured with a tube roughly two feet in diameter, connecting the barrel to the pipes in the soil. These tubes were instantly sealed shut as to retain the barrel’s airtight bouncy that keeps this city above the water.”
Off to the side he drew a gigantic box, “The network of pipes starts and ends in one of the two 60,000 horsepower electric motors, that can produce enough air pressure to practically move a small mountain,” he laughed, while everyone else was stone faced. Coughing, he moved forward, “The system is designed in such a way that if in fact one of the barrels rots through, or is punctured in anyway, a sensor automatically goes off warning the MFS control room and the Republic Power Company that these generators are going to be activated. After three minutes the generators will fill the system with pressurized air and the valve on the damaged barrel will open. Attached to each valve is a gigantic rubber sac, like a balloon that fills with air, pressing out the water in the barrel and retaining its shape and buoyancy. When the balloon is full the valve closes and seals the sac. Presumably, as long as the valve stays closed the sac can remain full indefinitely.”
Rove nodded, “And have we ever had to initiate this system?”
Riddle shook his head, “No, Sir, never for real. The barrels have proven to remain remarkably strong even after some of them have been down there for a century or so.”
“So what does your budget from the Parliament go to pay for then if the system has never been used in real time?” Rove asked pushing Riddle.
“It goes to pay for the general staff to run the facility. It also goes to pay for repairs to the piping system, to making sure the valves are securely fastened shut, and improving the system in general. Our big project for the upcoming year was going to be replacing the rubber sacs. It seem our older sacs have gotten hard and can crack occasionally. Generally its just so that in case the time comes and we have to initiate the system, we can be assured it will work properly,” Riddle attempted to explain.
Turning to Sensado, “So Madame Minister, if I am not too far out of line I would like to bluntly ask where has the appropriated money gone? The money I am speaking of is the appropriations usually made for the budget for the MFS?”
Sensado nodded cordially, “As I mentioned earlier. Due to our robust Social Net, in terms of our generous public health care, school systems, and social security systems, we have found the MFS also to be consuming more of the national budget outlays than seemed appropriate. It is widely held in the Parliament amongst the Ministers that keeping the Social Net in place is a more pertinent national concern as opposed to a relic of a bygone paranoid age. In addition due to the slowdown of the world economy we have seen our prices modestly raise, driving up costs for businesses, which in turn lowers income of people, and thus lowering tax revenue for the government. Fat had to be trimmed, and the MFS simply wasn’t seen as a area of immediate concern,” she clasped her hands, “In addition, as I have already reminded Mr. Pacer and Mr. Riddle, it seems that for the past 63 years the Ponchertrain City Council has failed to pay one cent into the Service. And seeing as the MFS only services the city of Ponchertrain, it seems logical to me, and the vast majority of the Ministers that the brunt of the MFS’ funding should come from the City Council’s budget and
not ours.”
Riddle refuted, “The MFS wasn’t an area of concern, but a multibillion dollar handout to the Republic Power Company surely was? A convenient loan to a poorly mismanaged private enterprise really seems to be a responsible way to spend the tax payer’s hard earned money.”
Pacer remained stoic in his chair, as Rove turned to look for Sensado’s response, “The Republic Power Company was a special circumstance. And they are completely different. If no one shows up to work at the MFS the city will be fine, assuming the money we have spent for the past sixty years hasn’t been blown on million dollar toilet seats. However, if we let the RPC fail, the entire island would have fallen apart. If we don’t have power, we don’t have an economy. It was a matter of National Security to assist the RPC through their challenging times. Plus the money we gave them was not from the tax revenues. It has been fully bonded through the Virtagwallan World Bank. Republic Power Company’s impact on our society, our everyday lives, is real and clearly apparent. As I said, the Metropolitan Foundation Service’s impact on society still needs further study in order to determine monies to be appropriated.”
Rove looked to Pacer, “Jon, is there any way the City of Ponchertrain could assist the MFS until the National Government is back on solid financial ground and can resume its funding of the MFS?” he ended by looking at Sensado with a tempting look.
Pacer took a few moments to think, leaned forward and spoke slowly, “Of all people on this island Mr. President; I would have expected you to understand the budgetary situation of the city of Ponchertrain. We are in debt ourselves, and we too are hurting from lower tax revenue. After Mr. Riddle initially approached me, the Treasurer and I looked over our numbers, and we just don’t have the money to help him. The National Government has made a commitment, and now they are failing to deliver on that commitment. Unfortunately at a time like this I would be more than honored to assist you and your administration and of course the Parliament of this great land to help rescue the MFS. However the life boats of my Titanic are quickly filling up, and it seems we may not even have a enough room for our own citizens.”
Sensado bit her lip, and Rove nodded, looking sympathetically at Riddle, “I am sorry my friend, but it seems the MFS will have to trim back. I give you my word that I will work diligently with Ms. Sensado and the Parliament to find something for you. But I think the only resolution we are going to find today is that of dismay for you and your budgetary situation.”
Riddle responded slowly and passionately, “That means we will have to start lying off people as soon as Monday.”
Sensado shut her folder, “Gentlemen, we are entering some tough times at least financially speaking. This worldwide recession, only heightened by the collapse of the UBB, was bound to eventually flow to this island. I think we are truly beginning to see the first signs, as new to all of us as they may be, of an domestic economic cool-down. But we have prepared for things like this. The National Government has a priority to damper the blow it will have on our industries and we are working around the clock to make sure what happened to the UBB doesn’t happen here,” nodding to Riddle, “I am sorry Mr. Riddle, I can understand how difficult this time is for you. But I entrust that you will be able to manage until we find funding for you,” sighing, “We all need to tighten our belts here. Let us hope we don’t sink with the rest of the world, because I am afraid that we simply don’t have the wherewithal to pull ourselves out if we do,” she grinned, and sarcastically quipped nodding to the grimacing Riddle, “Especially since we are snipping our safety net.” The three men cracked uneasy grins knowing how ironic and true that statement may be.
20
Hampton Ray never dreamed as an undergraduate at the University of Virtagwalla he would eventually be working as the President’s Chief of Staff. When he was still at the University, he was hired on by Xavier to run his father’s store the two Rove boys had inherited. At the time of his arrival, the store was poorly run and the numbers were all over the place. He found that although Xavier knew nothing about business, he knew quite a bit about people, which worked well with a little business acumen and planning. When he found out that Rove had been elected to a seat on the city council of Ponchertrain he wasn’t at all surprised.
After graduation, he said goodbye to Xavier and to Virtagwalla, and moved to New York City to work for one of the largest investment firms in the world. He thrived under the pressure and animosity behind stock trading. Along the way he met a girl that stole his heart. One afternoon while waiting for the subway, a young black woman was robbed. Hampton Ray watched as the thieves ran with her purse away from the screaming woman. She had taken out one of the three, but the other two fled the scene, leaving behind their beat up comrade. Ray not only stopped the thieves, but also retrieved the purse. Finding the woman intriguing, he asked her to go on a date with him as his reward. After a couple months of dating he took her to Virtagwalla for the celebration of his buddy, Xavier’s wedding. At that time Rove outlined for Ray his ambitions of running for mayor of Ponchertrain. Jokingly, Ray told the groom, “If you ever continue along this little political career, and make it to the big seat, I’ll come back and be your chief of staff.”
Two years to the day after Ray’s wedding in New York to his fiancé Whitley, he received a phone call at work from his old friend Xavier Rove. He was phoned from halfway across the world to inform him he had just won the Presidency, and that he would expect him in the office on his first day as his Chief of Staff. After mentioning it to Whitley that night at dinner jokingly, she asked him, “So when are we going out there to look at houses?”
Shocked he responded, “You would be willing to give up all this, to move to a little island in the middle of the Pacific?” he remarked spreading out his hands referring to their spacious midtown penthouse.
She smiled standing up and grabbing his hands, “That little island is your home, Hammy. You told your friend you would do something, and you must hold that promise. Plus,” she smiled, “I’ve always wanted to live on the beach.”
Excitedly, he picked up his wife and kissed her. The two of them packed up their life, quit their jobs, and moved across the globe to an enormous beach house in Settlerstown, not too far from his friend Rove. Since day one of his job, he never regretted moving back. Sure, he enjoyed his high paced, high salaried career in the city that never sleeps, but there was something comforting about being back in the place he grew up, surrounded by friends and family. Virtagwalla, no matter how large and populated it got, and no matter how much foreign money ran through its veins, would never be a stranger to Ray. Occasionally, he would wake up and go for long runs along the beach, and would wonder how he could ever have moved away from Virtagwalla.
However, it wasn’t the lure of being the Chief of Staff of the President, or simply his friendship with Rove that made his job interesting. More often than not, Ray was able use the skills acquired as an investment banker, such as to follow his gut, and his keen ability to read people that helped him not only excel at this position, but also cherish it deeply. His salary, he realized about three months into the gig, was 1/25th of what he made working for the investment bank. Yet, he and Whitley were a hundred times happier.
It was a cloudy day over Ponchertrain when Ray, wearing a grey fashionable trench coat and matching hat, walked into the Street Bean, a coffee shop just outside of Capital Square. It was a quaint little place, hidden away from the tourists. Ray enjoyed their lattes, but even more he enjoyed its privacy. Approaching the counter, he ordered a skinny latte, and sat down in a booth. Pulling out his Smartphone, he began reading an email from his wife.
Putting a cup on the table, Ray looked up to find Chen Boggiano looking down at him, “Still ordering skinny lattes Hampton?”
He quickly stood up and kissed her on both cheeks. She rolled her eyes and slid herself into the booth across from him as they engaged in idle small chat. Chen Boggiano never let Ray down when he was looking for an extremely attractive g
irl to get information out of. In fact she radiated in her ruby red coat, and matching pumps. Throwing her hair back she pulled out a recorder, pen and paper.
Ray laughed, grabbing the recorder, and turning it off, “No recording, and no notes. You are not here as a reporter for the Virtagwallan Times. You are here as a friend.”
“Fucking me in college, and never calling me back is quite a way to start a friendship Hampton,” she spat putting away the recorder but keeping the pen and paper out.
He eyed the paper and pen, and she regretfully pulled it off the table, “Oh and what a beautiful friendship it has become. And, you have to admit, it was a pretty good way to get you connected.” She rolled her eyes, and he asked, “So, Ms. Boggiano, how are things going with you?”
She laughed, again tossing her hair back, “Oh, it is a zoo down at the Times. We have been having a field day over the past week about the layoffs at the MFS, the murmur of a new rail project coming from Larynx, and the surprising silence of the President in the wake of all the international news of the global economic slowdown.”
Ray scrunched his brow, “Yeah Xavier has been keeping a pretty low profile. He has been doing the ribbon cuttings and kissing of babies in more intimate settings now that he has a whole fleet of security staff,” he spat.
“Well I would suggest some public events soon, the people of Ponchertrain are getting a little weary of what the future looks like in their city,” she bent over the table, and whispered, “Is it true that the MFS layoffs are a result of budgetary issues with the Ministry of Finance? The Government has been fairly iron clad about their budgetary situation, but I can’t imagine tax revenue has gone up recently. According to all the reports I have seen, gross income across the board for professionals in this city have dropped for the first time in decades,” she sat back up, a timid look on her face.
utopia unraveling (The Virtagwala Series Book 1) Page 12
