sparkindarkness (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sparkindarkness) wrote2006-06-10 02:55 pm
sparkindarkness) wrote2006-06-10 02:55 pm
Reach for the Sun #4 A Solution is found
Why, if I keep up like this I might even be called prolific. This can't last. Something will eat my soul and I will disappear for weeks or months on end. Yes, yes it will.
Anyway, onwards with Reaching for the Sun and I have a Shadows of History somewhere as well I need to post.
The minister shuffled nervously opposite me. Two grey little men hovered over us, bringing in papers and disposing with others by some arcane process possibly only know by whatever infernal entity runs the civil service. The minister was a large man who sweated profusely in his cool office and was constantly cleaning his glasses on his tie. I had about enough patience for him to do it another three times than I’m afraid I may have to strangle him.
How did I get this appointment? Well, I shamefully used Camaalis’ name of course. My grandfather came through on the telephone confirming my bona fides (I would almost have paid to see his face as he had to grudgingly extend his preciously hoarded authority to me. Damn, I really should have set up a Polaroid). And yes, it does show you how much oomph Camaalis has in these parts that they could get me an appointment in just 2 days with a government minister. Or possibly Secretary – I really should pay more attention to these introductions. Then I hit everyone I could find with as much welcoming emotion as I could. I wilted a little in the chair, worn out from broadcasting so much to so many people. Still, it had worked. I kept a thread of it open and pushing into the minister and the two civil service types. The minister was eating it up, his mind was quivering with curiosity and minor nervous excitement (and a tiny thread of lust. Yuck, but I guess you can't blame people for what they feel). The civil service types were almost immune, everything buried under caution, suspicion and lots of jadedness. I guess you have to have emotions for me to be able to control them.
“So, Miss Crowley, I understand that you have some vital information for us with regards to our target figures for our energy redistribution and renewal target 2020.” He breathed wetly, cleaning his glasses again. He tried to effect the board, superior tones the civil service drones had perfected but it came out slightly squeaky. I mentally shuddered and ploughed on, pushing more enthusiasm into his head as I did.
“From what the family can see, you are behind target.” I raised a placating hand as a sudden spike of anger flared in his brain. “Not because of any failing on your part. By installing enough wind turbines you could easily make the target, but you face considerable local opposition whenever a site is chosen.” That was an understatement. Why do people object to a great big white windmill? I’ll never understand – pretty white windmill or smog belching coal power plant – you’d think it would be such an easy choice.
He nodded, growling irritably about planning problems. I could taste his irritation and righteous martyrdom. I bit my lip – don’t laugh at the politician., don’t laugh, must not laugh…
“How about if I told you there was a large area of real estate available that you can build anything on without any protest from the neighbours? It has prevailing wind, it has all the planning already sorted with the local council – it’s just waiting for you to move in and take over.” I smiled helpfully, it was my professionally sincere smile. Bright and shiny and pretty and false as a celebrity’s nose.
He grinned and leaned forwards eagerly when the two grey civil service men swooped down like vultures. I fought the urge to glare at them as I felt vast waves of bureaucratic awkwardness wafting off both of them. I know, I know, you can’t get angry at people for doing their jobs… ah, Hell, I wasn’t going to be named a saint anyway. I focused on their minds, no gentle subtly, just focused as strong as I could. I thought back to when I was in university, I remember a day when I’d been late for lectures and I’d gone to completely the wrong hall. I’d ended up in some kind of advanced physics lecture and was too embarrassed to leave before it was finished. I thought back to what the lecturer had said and the diagrams he had drawn – I had tried so hard to understand them in desperate terror that someone would ask me questions. I took that memory of utter confusion and being utterly lost in a sea of impossible information and dumped it into their minds. They blinked in unison, their worried whispers faltering as their thoughts dissolved into organised chaos. I could feel their mental flailing for a handhold.
I leapt into that confused silence. Give them a minute to think and they’ll brush the confusion aside. “I have here a full report on everything you would need to know: environmental impact, planning permission, local opinion, prevailing wind and water conditions, ownership records, intention to sell…” I began rattling off a hundred more forms. Most of them were utterly unnecessary and some I made up on the spot but if there’s one thing bureaucrats like it’s forms. I could see (and feel) the civil servants latch on to my words as some kind of life line, both began nodding contentedly.
“Yes, yes, I think this covers everything.” The first said quietly, just the tiniest amount of doubt lacing his voice.
“Yes, certainly. Everything seems to be in order.” The second added, equally quietly. No doubt remained, he had latched onto paperwork to pull himself out of the fading confusion. Damn, I’m good.
“So we can go ahead with it!” The glasses he was cleaning fell from his sweaty hands as he gesticulated dramatically. “I want that land COVERED with so many power turbines people think they’re in Holland!” The minister roared excitedly. “Get to work on it straight away! I want builders digging before the month is out.” Ok, maybe I overdid the enthusiasm JUST a tad. Or maybe he is really really behind on those targets and can sense a less than profitable future as a political scapegoat.
One civil servant hesitated, old instincts coming to the fore. “Perhaps we should review…”
“No, you said all the papers are here,” crowed the minister, nearly stepping on his glasses as he stoiod to wave the paperwork about. “Everything’s in order, you said. What are you doing still standing here man, get a move on!” The befuddled civil servant was no match for such unreasonable enthusiasm. No way that was all my doing, this guy must have been severely worried. I made a careful mental note of that – this guy owed Camaalis and extreme favour.
They seemed almost to have forgotten that I was in the room, with the minister bullying his still bewildered civil servants into action (they seemed to be trying to talk him out of it or talk him into a delay without admitting that they had been wrong with their previous endorsement. It was fun to watch, I think I’ll film it and put it on pay for view.)
I took the opportunity to take my leave. I had already had several leaked reports to several newspapers, and the little tape recorder in my bag ensured I had some very good quotes. If anyone decided to change their mind I could play hard ball and force them back into line.
All in all, it was a job well done, I think. Do I get a star or a sainthood? Hell, why don’t you all just hail me as your messiah, the new miracle worker and be done with it?
Anyway, onwards with Reaching for the Sun and I have a Shadows of History somewhere as well I need to post.
The minister shuffled nervously opposite me. Two grey little men hovered over us, bringing in papers and disposing with others by some arcane process possibly only know by whatever infernal entity runs the civil service. The minister was a large man who sweated profusely in his cool office and was constantly cleaning his glasses on his tie. I had about enough patience for him to do it another three times than I’m afraid I may have to strangle him.
How did I get this appointment? Well, I shamefully used Camaalis’ name of course. My grandfather came through on the telephone confirming my bona fides (I would almost have paid to see his face as he had to grudgingly extend his preciously hoarded authority to me. Damn, I really should have set up a Polaroid). And yes, it does show you how much oomph Camaalis has in these parts that they could get me an appointment in just 2 days with a government minister. Or possibly Secretary – I really should pay more attention to these introductions. Then I hit everyone I could find with as much welcoming emotion as I could. I wilted a little in the chair, worn out from broadcasting so much to so many people. Still, it had worked. I kept a thread of it open and pushing into the minister and the two civil service types. The minister was eating it up, his mind was quivering with curiosity and minor nervous excitement (and a tiny thread of lust. Yuck, but I guess you can't blame people for what they feel). The civil service types were almost immune, everything buried under caution, suspicion and lots of jadedness. I guess you have to have emotions for me to be able to control them.
“So, Miss Crowley, I understand that you have some vital information for us with regards to our target figures for our energy redistribution and renewal target 2020.” He breathed wetly, cleaning his glasses again. He tried to effect the board, superior tones the civil service drones had perfected but it came out slightly squeaky. I mentally shuddered and ploughed on, pushing more enthusiasm into his head as I did.
“From what the family can see, you are behind target.” I raised a placating hand as a sudden spike of anger flared in his brain. “Not because of any failing on your part. By installing enough wind turbines you could easily make the target, but you face considerable local opposition whenever a site is chosen.” That was an understatement. Why do people object to a great big white windmill? I’ll never understand – pretty white windmill or smog belching coal power plant – you’d think it would be such an easy choice.
He nodded, growling irritably about planning problems. I could taste his irritation and righteous martyrdom. I bit my lip – don’t laugh at the politician., don’t laugh, must not laugh…
“How about if I told you there was a large area of real estate available that you can build anything on without any protest from the neighbours? It has prevailing wind, it has all the planning already sorted with the local council – it’s just waiting for you to move in and take over.” I smiled helpfully, it was my professionally sincere smile. Bright and shiny and pretty and false as a celebrity’s nose.
He grinned and leaned forwards eagerly when the two grey civil service men swooped down like vultures. I fought the urge to glare at them as I felt vast waves of bureaucratic awkwardness wafting off both of them. I know, I know, you can’t get angry at people for doing their jobs… ah, Hell, I wasn’t going to be named a saint anyway. I focused on their minds, no gentle subtly, just focused as strong as I could. I thought back to when I was in university, I remember a day when I’d been late for lectures and I’d gone to completely the wrong hall. I’d ended up in some kind of advanced physics lecture and was too embarrassed to leave before it was finished. I thought back to what the lecturer had said and the diagrams he had drawn – I had tried so hard to understand them in desperate terror that someone would ask me questions. I took that memory of utter confusion and being utterly lost in a sea of impossible information and dumped it into their minds. They blinked in unison, their worried whispers faltering as their thoughts dissolved into organised chaos. I could feel their mental flailing for a handhold.
I leapt into that confused silence. Give them a minute to think and they’ll brush the confusion aside. “I have here a full report on everything you would need to know: environmental impact, planning permission, local opinion, prevailing wind and water conditions, ownership records, intention to sell…” I began rattling off a hundred more forms. Most of them were utterly unnecessary and some I made up on the spot but if there’s one thing bureaucrats like it’s forms. I could see (and feel) the civil servants latch on to my words as some kind of life line, both began nodding contentedly.
“Yes, yes, I think this covers everything.” The first said quietly, just the tiniest amount of doubt lacing his voice.
“Yes, certainly. Everything seems to be in order.” The second added, equally quietly. No doubt remained, he had latched onto paperwork to pull himself out of the fading confusion. Damn, I’m good.
“So we can go ahead with it!” The glasses he was cleaning fell from his sweaty hands as he gesticulated dramatically. “I want that land COVERED with so many power turbines people think they’re in Holland!” The minister roared excitedly. “Get to work on it straight away! I want builders digging before the month is out.” Ok, maybe I overdid the enthusiasm JUST a tad. Or maybe he is really really behind on those targets and can sense a less than profitable future as a political scapegoat.
One civil servant hesitated, old instincts coming to the fore. “Perhaps we should review…”
“No, you said all the papers are here,” crowed the minister, nearly stepping on his glasses as he stoiod to wave the paperwork about. “Everything’s in order, you said. What are you doing still standing here man, get a move on!” The befuddled civil servant was no match for such unreasonable enthusiasm. No way that was all my doing, this guy must have been severely worried. I made a careful mental note of that – this guy owed Camaalis and extreme favour.
They seemed almost to have forgotten that I was in the room, with the minister bullying his still bewildered civil servants into action (they seemed to be trying to talk him out of it or talk him into a delay without admitting that they had been wrong with their previous endorsement. It was fun to watch, I think I’ll film it and put it on pay for view.)
I took the opportunity to take my leave. I had already had several leaked reports to several newspapers, and the little tape recorder in my bag ensured I had some very good quotes. If anyone decided to change their mind I could play hard ball and force them back into line.
All in all, it was a job well done, I think. Do I get a star or a sainthood? Hell, why don’t you all just hail me as your messiah, the new miracle worker and be done with it?