‘Because our money, is really just their money. We just figured out how to get them to give it to us. Stocks, banks, crypto. It’s in their name; they pay the taxes on it. But WE get to spend it.’ – Georgio Jones: Finance Minister for the Civic Alliance.

Felix Du Trois adjusted his tie. It was a deep blue. Dark enough to be neutral, but colourful enough, he hoped, to sell Felix as friendly and memorable. He practiced his smile in the mirror a few times, until a soft chime in his ear informed him that the automated taxi had arrived downstairs. His rehearsed smile faded. He pulled a single piece of paper out of his suit pocket and unfolded it. He glanced once more at the hand-written talking points, and then carefully, methodically, fed it into the compact office shredder. He didn’t leave the apartment until the internal incinerator had reduced the page to a tiny pile of ash.

As soon as the electric taxi glided silently up to the entrance of the Civic Alliance’s convention centre, the smile was firmly back on his face.

As he walked up the wide, white staircase, Felix joined the sea of well-dressed, perfumed party members and associates. The mood was light. The evening was warm and clear and the promise of cold refreshments beckoned.

His digital invitation was scanned and checked against his parliamentary ID. Although Felix was on time, there wasn’t long before the opening address and a gangly young usher told Felix to please take his seat. As a junior member with a diminutive portfolio, Felix was directed to file towards the back of the convention centre, where rows of chairs were arranged. Senior party members and significant donors would be seated around lavishly spaced tables, nearest the stage.

There was more than one famous face in the crowd and Felix began to feel nervous. The net wealth of any one of those tables would surpass the combined wealth of Metro 7, the district where Felix was from. There were Party members, obviously, but Felix also saw athletes, TV personalities, and several high-ranking members of the military. Everyone seated at those front tables was a power in their own right. If they weren’t, then they were married to one. The regally dressed trophy spouses were surgical strike missiles. Sleek, trim forms housing a deadly payload. They commanded it well. From the way they snapped their fingers at the black-clad wait staff, to the short, calculated barks of laughter that spilled over their collagen filled lips. Either to humour those they thought of as inferiors, or to ingratiate themselves to their social superiors.

He sat quietly in the third row of chairs, a glass of real-grape champagne growing warm in his hand, fascinated by the creatures of the synthetic jungle he saw in front of them.

But Felix suddenly couldn’t help but feel they were all merely hooting baboons compared to the tall, square-jawed man who glided across the stage to stand behind the podium and began to speak.

If the folks around the tables were apes, a Siberian Tiger had just strolled into their midst.

Georgio Jones was a professional. What the profession happened to be was of little consequence. He specialised in excelling. If he’d been interested in sports, he would be running the NFL. If he’d been into computers, he’d be the CEO of Civix by now. But Georgio liked people. Or, more accurately, he liked what they could do for him. So, he became a politician.  He had been a newly appointed member back in 2024, when they had actually won an election through votes. The last election. That was forty-eight years ago.

‘Good evening, my friends.’ He said it so sincerely, so smoothly, that each person who had received a handshake or a smile from Georgio at some point, which was nearly everyone in the room, felt as though he was speaking directly to them.

‘Tonight, we mark another four years of progress and stability!’

There was a round of applause. A tall, blond member in his mid-thirties was already red-faced from champagne and he cheered loudly as he smashed his palms together. Georgio smiled firmly and the cheer died in the man’s throat.

‘The original Continuity Mandate, which I remember-’ He punctuated this by stroking the immaculately cultivated streak of silver hair at his temple, which generated a polite chuckle from the crowd.

 ‘-But most of you probably won’t, was a landmark bill for this country.’ His smile faded.

‘Those were dark times, ladies and gentlemen. Every four years, a new government would be formed, new policies, new ideologies, new laws. Each of them coming in and having to spend most of their new tenure in government, undoing the work of the last!’

People were nodding to one another. They had heard this all before, but it didn’t make it any less true.

‘As a new member of the Civic Alliance, I wanted to help my community; which was good old Metro 9 at the time. It’s great to see that my beloved Nine is in the good hands of Alison Clearwater’ He pointed to a young woman seated a few tables back. She waved to everyone in the room with a broad smile on her face.

‘Roads being built and then abandoned. New housing projects being scrapped halfway through construction. The waste was unbelievable.’

He paused to take a deep breath. He placed his hand on his heart, as though feeling an old wound.

‘But the Continuity Mandate changed that. Allowed us to keep moving forward. It gave us the chance to progress, always.’ He spread his arms widely and spoke rhythmically, like the closing of a sermon.

‘It meant no more backwards.’

The ancient campaign slogan moved through the crowd like the kinetic wave of falling dominoes.

Georgio settled into the Pledge, a speech that had gone virtually unchanged for almost half a century. His voice could’ve greased axels.

‘We, the Civic Alliance, do so swear to uphold the values, ethos and principles of our democracy, suspending the electoral process only for as long as absolutely necessary to return our nation to a state of harmonious resource management.’

Georgio looked solemn for a moment and then added, ‘And that time is soon, I can feel it.’

Nobody laughed aloud, but there was an almost audible chorus of smirks shared amongst the older party members.

‘Now, if you’ll please join me at the bar for refreshments while we await the arrival of tonight’s entertainment!’

There was another, slightly more wine-fuelled round of applause and Georgio flowed down the stairs where a small crowd of party members were already waiting for him.

Felix stood with the other guests as they moved around to the buffet and champagne refills, which were perspiring gently.

Felix sipped a water and tried to wait for the crowd around Georgio to disperse. After ten minutes, it seemed to have grown slightly, so Felix decided to cut in anyway. He hadn’t taken three steps before he was intercepted by a wrinkled, wiry man in his fifties with the haircut of a twenty-two year old.

This man was Gene Harvey and he was Felix’s boss.

Gene thrust out a thin, dry hand and pumped Felix’s surprised palm vigorously.

‘Felix! Good to see you. First  CA Gala hmm? Big night for you. Don’t hit the champers’ too hard, made that mistake myself mind you, but I can see you’re a go-getter.’ He turned to the two young women accompanying him ‘Youngest person to pass the board certification in sixty years, this kid. Can you believe that? Comes outta nowhere, and BAM. It’s like he’s been here forever. I tell ya, our office has never run smoother.’

Felix smiled, accepting the praise. He extended his hand to the closest woman,

‘Mrs Harvey?’

She laughed, a shrill, chiming sound that made Felix’s eyes itch. Gene laughed too.

‘No no, Felix, there is no Mrs Harvey at the moment. Although’ he made a pointed glance towards the two women ‘The position is open!’ He followed this with a wink and chuckle that was intended to be charming, and to their credit, the two twenty-something women did their best to be charmed. The laughing one laughed again and the second one buried her face in her champagne flute. Seeking to change the subject, she remarked about how fabulous  the ride to the gala had been, in Gene’s 2046 Mercedes. Felix raised his eyebrows.

‘That’s a pricey machine, Mr Harvey. Must’ve saved for quite a while.’

Gene winked again. ‘You’ve got to make money work for you, young Felix. I’ve been… fortunate in my investments.’

Felix knew that Gene had recently purchased a vast amount of stocks in a drone-machinery company. One that was about to land a major military contract. Felix knew this, because Gene was one of only two politicians with the authority to approve new military contracts. Felix tried to keep his tone neutral. ‘It’s fortunate for Remo too, that they won that large contract recently.’

‘Indeed, they presented a very compelling presentation. They were clearly the best option to go with!’

‘The best option for everyone.’ Said Felix softly. A touch of accusation crept into his words. Gene heard, but he chose to address his next statement to another party member who had just sidled up to join them.

‘You know, Erica. There are some people out there, a few… radicals. Who think that Party members shouldn’t be allowed to own stocks of any kind?’

Erica, a short woman in her forties with a bob-cut and a pinched expression snorted derisively.

‘Wherever do they get these ideas from?’

‘Something about conflict of interest.’ Said Felix ‘We have access to, certain information. That the public do not’. He added hurriedly.

Erica seemed amused. ‘Imagine that. A complete infringement of an individual’s rights. Should they be able to invest in mutual funds? Invest at all? Could they invest in gold? in baseball cards? That’s like not being allowed to own a house if you happen to work in construction.’

Gene nodded and made a pointed look at Felix ‘Exactly. After all, our salaries are only $220,000 a year. We need to invest our meagre earnings wisely. How else could one live of such a wage? Complete nonsense. Isn’t it? Felix.’

Felix was trapped and he knew it. He nodded politely to Erica and excused himself.

Satisfied, Gene turned back to his dates.

Felix turned and almost collided with Georgio Jones. Jones was holding a tumbler of what looked like whiskey and Felix managed to prevent any of it being spilled by swerving his torso out of the tumbler’s path.

‘Nice moves, young Felix.’

Felix was stunned that Georgio would know his name. Georgio smiled broadly.

‘Oh, come now. You think you could climb so far so quickly and not be noticed? You have caught my attention young man.’

Felix smiled and extended his hand.

‘It is good to meet you finally, Sir.’

The trailing group of sycophants had arrived and were now encircling Felix and Georgio. Georgio gripped Felix’s hand and shook it like he was meeting Santa Claus in the flesh. Felix noticed his words were slurring, every so slightly.

My boy, you have joined a most prestigious organisation. We are most, most pleased to have a man with your drive among our ranks.’ He looked around and his cronies murmured their agreement.

‘I’m honoured, Senator Jones. I do hope that I serve my community well.’

Georgio laughed suddenly, loud and harsh. Then he stopped, just as abruptly. He peered at Felix closely for a moment. ‘My god, you’re serious.’ He murmured.

‘Yes sir. Isn’t that our duty to our constituents?’

‘Felix. You know the best way we can serve our constituents, is to keep things moving. It’s to progress our great society. And one of the best ways to do that is to make sure that you, and your loved ones, are well looked after. If you’re in a position of affluence, you can then in turn help those closest to you. Then they can help those closest to them. You understand?’

 ‘I think so, Sir.’

‘Good man. This nation is in a great place, we’ve achieved so much in our time in office. Prosperity at every level of our great society. I’m glad to see the next generation of party members understand how that has come to be.’

‘At every level, Sir? What about the riots, or the protests in Metro 4?’

Georgio grinned. ‘Those? Those little, tantrums? They aren’t anything to worry about, my boy. Those are normal, natural outbursts from a group of people who don’t know what they want in life. They need an outlet for their frustrations at their own lack of purpose. So, they yell and shout and throw a few bricks. But we, the Church and the Party, we elevate everyone through our triumphs.’

He turned to the gaggle. ‘Who among you has prospered since the last gala? Which of you has opened businesses, providing jobs and incomes for others?’ To a man, they all nodded and a few even cheered quietly.

Georgio took a sip of whiskey. ‘You see, Felix? The Civic Alliance. It’s our way forward. It’s our, gateway to prosperity.’

‘Like stock trading?’

Georgio smirked. ‘Sure, kid. If you have your sights set so low as to gain a few inside scoops from time to time, by all means. But if you want to actually win the game, you need to think bigger.’

Felix feigned ignorance. ‘Bigger, sir?’

Georgio chuckled. ‘Not here, and not now. But ask me at the next gala, or the one after that. Or the one… You catch my drift?’

Felix felt cold. He knew what he needed to say, but he hesitated. Once it was said, he was committed to his course.

‘This position. The privilege you have of representing people, it’s corrupted all of you.’ Said Felix quietly.

Georgio’s smile flickered. His eyes grew hard for a moment. ‘Be very careful how you speak, boy. Corrupt is a dangerous word to throw carelessly about.’

The onlookers nodded sagely. Here, they were seeing a young man burning bridges and dismantling his own career before it had even begun. Georgio’s smile had returned, but his eyes remained hard.

He put an arm around Felix, who instinctively shied away from the contact. Georgio’s breath was thick with strong liquor. His deep voice a purr in Felix’s ear.

‘Don’t try to tell me that power corrupts. You haven’t ever had enough to know what it’s like. And I’m the one who decides if you get any more. Remember that.’ He pushed Felix hard, in the small of his back and sent him stumbling out of the circle. Before Felix could say anything, Georgio’s booming voice rang out.

‘Just had a little too much champagne, it seems. Must excuse his outburst, I take no offense. The lad just has enthusiasm for his new position. I love to see it!’

Felix turned and locked eyes with Georgio briefly. Something flashed in their blue depths, something reptilian and cold.

‘Although that’s quite enough shop talk for one evening, let’s adjourn to the balcony to see the performances!’ There was a chorus of agreement, and only a few party members cast disapproving or sympathetic gazes towards Felix before the group moved off again. His face reddening, Felix hurried to the bathrooms.

Once inside a stall, he adjusted his tie once more. Twisting it in his hand, he revealed a pinhole camera which he swiftly disconnected. Once it was in his palm, he used his Civix playback to watch the recording. Georgio’s features appeared on the display lens, crystal clear.

Satisfied. He pulled his party ID out of his pocket, dropped it in the trash along with his house keys and the wig he had worn every day for nearly three years. He replaced his tie with a black bow tie, and Felix Du Trois vanished.

A waiter with short-cropped, blonde hair exited the bathrooms, and walked out through the kitchens, into the dark night.