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| A Conflict of Interests; The Rodinian Question | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 19 Oct 2010, 01:37 AM (289 Views) | |
| Respublika Goroda | 19 Oct 2010, 01:37 AM Post #1 |
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The meeting room was a tad chilly, even though the sun shown through the wide glass windows that made up one wall. Through it, Arman Molotok could see the mighty skyscrapers that composed the whole of Respublika Goroda, providing plenty of working space for its countless corporate ventures. Through the cracks, he could also see to the north, past the hustle and bustle of the Republik and in to the brewing storm that was the mainland. He drummed his fingers on the desk. The board room was silent, despite the ten people assembled there. No one was in the mood from smalltalk, especially not on the subject at hand. Looking around the room, Arman could see the various people gathered there- all strangers, mid-twenties to late thirties, seven males and three females- in varied states of anxious boredom. All had been summoned here under vague circumstances, with the only explanation offered being their importance in the assistance of the Republik. Arman went to check his watch, only to remember that it had been removed at the door by an armed guard. Nothing that could potentially be used as a recording device had been permitted, which had only served to heighten the already palpable tension many of those assembled felt towards the situation. So when the door clicked open, Arman- and a few others- couldn't help but jump at the sudden noise. Ten heads turned to face the door, eyes wide with expectation, to see an elderly gentleman enter through it. With him was another guard, this one not visibly armed. The man smiled to them all. "Thank you all for coming. I'm sure you're all wondering what brought you here and so I'll keep the formalities short." He sat. "As you are all probably aware, I am Dr. Isaac Rukovod, the man responsible for bringing you all here for what I find to be a very important subject vital to the survival of this Republik." "And what might that be, Dr.?" Asked the man across Arman. "As I am sure goes for all of us, I am an extremely busy person and I do not much enjoy giving time over to what may simply be a time share deal." The atmosphere of the room seemed to nod in agreement. Arman was also curious as to what could be so important as to tear ten people from their various duties without so much as a formal explanation. Rukovod, however, simply laughed. "Mr. Dashkov, I am sure you all are indeed very busy. Yet, you are all also bound together by a sense that something big is happening. Something across the shore, and to the north." They all glanced towards the window, and Arman was sure the others could feel the same sense of mute dread that gripped his stomach. "To the north, of course, is the Rodinian mainland, currently under the nominal control of the Provisional Government. The same one that allowed Respublitek to purchase this island. Also there, as you all also know, is the mounting threat of civil war. I don't have to tell you what that means for us." He paused, letting that sink in. "The news has been quick to point out that our security is in their hands. As a city without a government capable of raising an army, never mind one capable of resisting a nation of nearly three million, there is a clear and present danger of whatever extremist faction manages to win control of Rodina annexing this city." "And boom," he went on, "say goodbye to our democracy. Goodbye to free enterprise. Say hello to military rule and the dismantling of our society, conscription, and taxes." "With all due respect, Dr., there is no reason to believe that extremism will come to the Rodinian government. And even then, even less to believe that they would feel the need to take Respublika Goroda back." Mr. Daskhov said. "Of course there isn't. After all, plenty of third world hellholes get by just fine without tyrannical rule, right? But don't be blind to the truth, Mr. Dashkov. Rodina is not just any such third world hell. Mrs. Voltonova, if you'd be so kind." He had motioned to the woman seated at the farthest edge of the table, who Arman had not previously recognized. At the mention of her name, however, he suddenly realized that she was none other than Yekaterina Voltonova, the RNN reporter. "Certainly," she said, rising. She produced a remote from her pocket and aimed it at the projector on the ceiling. It flashed to life, displaying a screen on the wall behind them. They all turned to look as she walked towards it. "This is the rally me and the RNN news crew went to cover earlier this month," she said, as said rally came to life on the projection. "This broadcast was heavily edited for TV, so none of you have probably seen this." Images of a huge crowd of people, gathered out what Arman remembered to be the Rodinian Parliament. Angry shouts. Soldiers in the crowd. The distinctive image of the Rodinian Imperial flag being unfurled behind a strong looking man atop a truck, giving a speech. The cry of odna narod, odna vera, odna Rodina repeated by the crowd. "Good God," said the man seated next to Arman. "Why wasn't this shown?" "Because," said Rukovod. "To the outside world, Respublika Goroda is a corporate paradise. Anyone with a problem with the business regulation of their country can set up a business here in the city that can manage trade efficiently all over the globe. Because of that, Respublitek is getting funding from the massive investments from many of those corporations, that pay for this city's upkeep and continued existence. However, no one likes a shaky investment. If it appears that Rodina is going to collapse and wipe the Republik off the map, all of our business- our lifeblood- is gone." The board chewed that over a minute. "So what do we do, then?" Said Mr. Dashkov. "Aha," replied Rukovod, smiling. "That is what I have brought you here to decide." Arman finally spoke. "The ten of us are going to... what, save the city? How?" The group mumbled in agreement. Arman felt a little proud of himself for having voiced what they were probably thinking. "Good question, I'm glad you asked, Mr. Molotok. You see, each of you have been especially chosen for your expertise in a certain field, or for your skills in some area or another. Skills that may soon become extremely valuable. For example, Mr. Molotok here is a sociologist, while Mrs. Voltonova has extensive experience with languages." "And I'm a businessman," said Mr. Dashkov. "What use do you have of me?" "Mr. Dashkov, there's a quote I have attributed to you here... you've built schools throughout the Republik, yes? And on each of them, a plaque- 'with knowledge, money, and with money, power'. Surely I should not have to explain to you the extreme importance of the economy to the Republik, and to all people. In fact, that brings us to my proposal..." He stood, and began walking towards the projection, taking the remote from Mrs. Voltonova and urging her to sit down. He switched the projection to a map of Renatia, displaying all of its countries- all of them shaded in various colors. "Using census and economic data available to us, Respublitek has put together a map displaying the freedom of enterprise in each country, as well as their household happiness. As you can see, there is very little correlation." "...meaning?" Said Mr. Dashkov, war of a pro-socialist rant. "Meaning, people are happy as long as they get want they want. Some people want peace. Some want material goods. Some want religion. But what is clear is that they are happiest when they are able to get what they want- either through the government, or through themselves." He pressed a button and the slide continued, now focusing on Rodina- which was shaded bright red. "Rodina has neither great freedom of enterprise nor satisfaction from its people. By comparison, Respublika Goroda has much of both." Respublika Goroda was light blue on the map. "In response to this, the people of Rodina are rising up against the current order- an uprising that is being funneled in to extremist tendencies. The people are sick of the communists, and many have not forgotten the old Rodinian Empire. Thus, the Coalition." Click, next slide. "This man," he said, showing the man that had given the speech at the rally, "is Petro Arkanan, a former member of the Rodinian military and far-right advocate. Over the past few months, he's been consolidating his power amongst the Coalition against the Socialists, who still hold a majority in the Duma. He feels strongly that the Rodinian Tsardom should be re-implemented, a feeling many Rodinians are starting to reflect. His popular support is currently twice that of the Duma, especially in the ravaged countryside. In the next election, the Coalition is expected to win the majority of seats, assuming the nation can make it to that point." "So we're fucked, is basically what you're telling us." Dashkov said, blankly. "He takes over, and the proud Rodinian Empire comes marching in to the Republik and God-knows where else." "Not necessarily," said Rukovod. "As I said, people are tired of the communists, and they are very excitable. However, that is not to say they won't avoid the lesser of two evils if they see a better deal. Arkanan is popular, yes, and the military is basically in his pocket, yes, but the people haven't known his God in a long, long time. When they do pray, it's for bread, shoes, and medicine. The people will support whoever brings that to them, and for now none of them are willing to unite under a dictatorship to get them. They had one of those already." Click, a screen showing Rodina, province by province. A few of the areas were lit up blue. "Each blue area you see contains a storefront owned or funded by a Republikan corporation. Associated with each area is an increase in happiness, as people gain access to basic necessities that are being let in by our business. People there have taken to forming a political party advocating democracy based upon our system." "Bloc Respublika," said Arman. He'd heard of the group on the news. "Exactly, Mr. Molotok. The Rodinian people are attracted to our system- this island was once part of their land, and as former Rodinian citizens, we are seen as having been privileged above all others. Though the government officials- most of them relics of the waning communist era- despise us, the common men envy us like no other. If we can reach them, we can eliminate Petro's power base, assure a foothold in the country favorable to us, and avert a war that could spell doom for our little experiment in democracy. It is all a matter of how." "This sounds like a business problem!" Said Mr. Dashkov, grinning slyly. "Just leave it to me. I know how to operate a market, and this is all a matter of supply and demand." "It is good to see you're enthusiastic about the project, sir, but sadly it is a bit more than simply a business problem. Which is why I've brought all of you- businessmen, scientists, and others- to figure out how to bring happiness to the Rodinian people, and by doing so, security for the Republik, and for the region." "Ladies and gentlemen," continued Rukovod. "You have been summoned by the Republik to preserve its safety and culture. We will give you the tools, the money, and the talent to ensure you can do so, by any means." "And if we don't?" Mr. Daskhov asked. To Arman, it sounded entirely rhetorical. "Then the Republik dies, along with all that entails. We stand at the brink of history, my friends. Mira, svobody, yedinstva- peace, freedom, unity. In the interest of ourselves, and of all people, we hold the power to cross that brink. But if we don't, everything we've risked on this little city of ours will be for naught, and the world will continue on as before." He paused, looking them all in the eyes intensely. "You all have one week to decide. If you wish to continue with the project, we shall meet here again one week from now. If not, this meeting never happened, and you can go on with your life as you did before. I can assure you that success will not be brought easily. But neither will living under defeat. Good day to you all." He turned and left. The board members looked towards each other for a moment, then rose and followed him out the door. Arman caught up with Rukovod as he walked away. "Excuse me, Doctor? You mentioned something about a "we" in there- about giving us money and tools and talent. Who is we?" Rukovod looked Arman over. "Mr. Molotok, yes? Yes, the sociologist. We have big plans for you, if you decide to join." He smiled and offered his hand. Arman shook it- he had a stronger grip than Arman had imagined. "Let's just say I work for the betterment of mankind, yes? If you come back next week, you may find out more. But until you do, that's all I can say." He smiled again. "Goodbye, sir." Again he left, leaving Arman with even more questions. Chewing his lip, Arman turned and left, following his fellow the others out the building. |
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| Respublika Goroda | 20 Oct 2010, 01:15 AM Post #2 |
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A week later. Arman was standing outside the very same building the meeting had taken place in. There hadn't been a question as to whether or not he'd come back- this had been the singly most exciting thing to happen to the sociology student. So here he was, waiting in the lobby of a nondescript skyscraper, one of dozens, for a meeting to take place in plain sight. Of course, like all meetings, he was going to have to wait before it started. He'd learned from habit in the Republik to be fashionably early- thirty minutes was appreciated. Didn't make it any less boring each time. Also in the room were a few of the others that had been present at the last meeting- of all of them, Arman noted that Mr. Dashkov wasn't there. Business types. Always late. Assuming he'd show, of course. Of those that had come, none of them felt the need to converse with one another. Arman wasn't sure if it was due to the asocial natures of those selected for the meeting or simply professional disinterest. He suspected a little of both. He sighed, prompting a question that came from beside him. "Something wrong?" He jumped, turning to face the voice. While he was thinking, a woman had come to stand next to him. A secretary? Ah, no. Mrs. Voltonova. Embarrassed, he replied. "Erm, no, just hate these pointless waiting periods." Too late, he realized he might come off as whiny. "Oh God, me too," she said. "Mind if I take a seat next to you?" "No, not at all." Or not. "Thanks," she said, taking her seat. "So many pointless little corporate customs. And they aren't even Rodinian, just some silly crap we borrowed from some other companies to catch up with the times. Really a waste of time, in my opinion." Holy crap, Arman was talking to Yekaterina Voltonova. "Oh, yeah, very. Of course, we didn't really have a place to start ourselves, did we? Maybe it will work itself out in time, once people realize how stupid it is." She chuckled. "Yes, hopefully. So... Mr. Molotok, right? I'm Yekaterina. Though you probably knew that, of course." Yekaterina Voltonova, RN News, remembers my name. "Oh, but of course. But please, call me Arman. Mr. Molotok's what everyone calls my father." "Oh sure- wait. Arman Molotok?" She asked. "Uhm, yes. Why?" He almost gulped. He managed to stop himself. Did she know him somehow? Arman couldn't recall ever meeting her face to face. She laughed for a moment, then turned back to him, seemingly embarrassed. "Oh, ah, sorry. It's just... never mind." Arman felt bewildered. "Err, what? Have we met?" "Oh, no no no," she replied. "It's just, your last name- hammer? In English, it sounds like 'arm and hammer'. Just a little linguistics humor. Sorry." Arman hadn't known that. He only spoke Rodinian Slavic. "Oh, right! Dr. Rukovod mentioned you were a linguist, right?" "Yeah, just don't mind me. I just can't help that sometimes. I'm fluent in five languages, and pretty good in a few more, so sometimes I just can't help but string them together." Arman could swear she blushed a little. "Oh, hey, don't feel bad. You know what's funny, my dad actually speaks English." He smiled. "Oh God, what if it was on purpose?" At that, she laughed. Arman's heart melted. "That would be horrible! I mean, not to say your name's horrible, but I can't imagine if my parents had named me something like that. I'd die." She laughed some more, and turned to him smiling. "So you what brought you back?" "What, here?" The sudden shift in questions caught Arman off guard. "Oh, well. What else is a sociologist student going to do with his time? This is rather more exciting than, say, studies. What about you?" "True, true. Me? Oh, well, I guess I just wanted to change things, y'know?" Before Arman could ask what she meant, the slight figure of Rukovod appeared in the lobby, ushering the group to follow. "Come, come! I'm glad you all could make it! We have much to discuss, let's not waste precious time." "Oh, let's go. Isn't this exciting?" Yekaterina smiled and stood to follow them. Arman followed after. |
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| Respublika Goroda | 13 Nov 2010, 08:40 PM Post #3 |
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"So what you're calling for is... what? Some sort of secret service?" Dashkov answered the doctor in regards to his proposal, his head propped up on the table with his fist against his cheek. Rukovod shook his head fiercely, seemingly anticipating such a response. "No no no, Mr. Dashkov. This will be a private enterprise, much like a business. But rather than distribute wares or sundry services, we will be protecting the institution devoted to such distributions." "What you are proposing, has it been run by Respublitek?" Dashkov sounded almost bored in his questioning. "Not yet, no. As I said, you all are the think-tank- the shareholders." "And this will be a private enterprise? All organizations are required by the 'Set to register under Respublitek. How do you know they'd be willing to support your little scheme?" "Because this little project of theirs- our fair city- has in it invested quite a bit of capital. They're just as desperate to avoid readmission to the mainland state as we are..." And so Arman and the rest of the council listened with interest. Dr. Rukovod had laid out the purpose of this meeting- the establishment of some sort of agency, intended to act as the protector of the Republik's foreign interests. In other words, skirting the terms of 'Set defined legality. One of the first additions to Charter Law was a ban on intelligence agencies- the wounds of a totalitarian socialist state still all too fresh then. However, there wasn't exactly a rule on private investigators, so long as they held no actual judicial power. The 'Set was even murkier on private individuals investigation abroad- up to and including acting as what you might call "intelligence" agents. And so that was the plan, according to Rukovod, and it was very simple- a coalition devoted to getting people on the ground in Rodina, to investigate a means of protecting the Republik from the growing chaos. "Well, I'm not saying I'm fully opposed, Doctor, but I do hope you've worked out the complexities of such a proposal." Mr. Dashkov said. "Did I not say it was simple? We pay people to go to Rodina as investigators- investigators are legal, yes? They "investigate"- they tell us what's going on and where. Where are people starving? Why are they starving? What can they afford to pay? How receptive is the populace to corporations? How hostile are the nationals to our companies? That sort of thing." "And what exactly will we do with this knowledge, Doctor? It's one thing to know what's going on. It's another entirely to act on what we know." "That's why we need you, Mr. Dashkov. All of you. We need people on the ground, and to get that, we need people of skill- rangers, negotiators, market analysts, security. We need the capital to pay for that, we need the people who can get those jobs done. All of you have ties in to departments and organizations that can get us what we need. And you, Mr. Dashkov, have the financial resources to get us started." At that, Dashkov laughed. "Oh, and what? I take my hard earned money and just give it to your little patriot's organization? For what?" Arman spoke up at that. "Mr. Dashkov, the Doctor has spent the last thirty minutes explaining to you 'for what'. You have money here in the Republik. You have business deals here in the Republik. If the socialists- or so help us, the nationalists- take power in Rodina, all of that is gone. Of all of us, you probably have the greatest personal stake." Dashkov stared Arman down, eyes hard. Then he seemed to have an epiphany, and nodded. "Alright, then. A business venture." He smiled, somewhat sarcastically, at Rukovod. "A business venture. I'll commit so long as it benefits me." "If it benefits the wellbeing of the Republik, Mr. Dashkov, I assure you it will benefit you." Rukovod answered. "I heard that rhetoric in another republic, Doctor. As long as this one benefits me, I will assist it. But only so long." "So you are in, Mr. Dashkov?" The council looked intently at Dashkov- the only so far not to pledge his support. "I am in, Doctor." He offered his hand to Rukovod. "For the Republik," said the Doctor, shaking it. "If need be." Dashkov smiled. Arman left the meeting after Yekaterina, who had left seemingly in a hurry. Yet somehow walking along, she appeared behind him. "Oh, Arman! I was hoping to find you after the meeting. Isn't this exciting?" "Oh, very, Mrs. Volto- err, Yekaterina." Arman was startled. "Call me Katya, Arman. If we'll be working together, we might as well be friendly, no? Anyway, you didn't answer my question!" "Oh, alright, Katya." He smiled. "Yes, it is very exciting, though I'm still not entirely sure why I'm part of all this. I'm just a sociology student." "And I'm just a reporter, Arman. But Rukovod is a smart man- of tens of thousands, he chose us, yes? So clearly he thinks you're important. We'll be doing plenty of marketing- perhaps he'll need your experience with people to know how to do that right." "Well, I gathered as much, but there are plenty of people more knowledgeable than me. I don't even have a degree, yet." "Oh Arman, don't doubt yourself. Like I said, Rukovod is a smart man- he helped design the metro, did you know that? Probably the only true patriot the Republik has. He has a lot of stake in this, more than Dashkov even- if he needs you, then he needs you, yes?" She smiled. Arman warmed up at that. The smile was only gravy. "Hm, you're right. Thank you, Katya. Very inspiring." "It's what I do, Arman." She smiled again. More warmth. "But anyway, I've got to get to work- who else is going to cover the mafiya problem? Alla'u'abha, Arman!" "Do svidaniya, Katya!" She hurried away, presumably to a metro tunnel. Arman hailed a cab back to the university. Rukovod had given him an assignment of some sort, along with all the other council members, in the form of a flash drive. Time to take it home and crack it. |
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