Finch took a carriage to the University and headed right to the biology department, to see how things would play out with the salt water lake. The Bio department was quite large, the result of budget fixing by Professor Walsh back when she was in charge of the Initiative. Keeping that in mind, it made sense that they had a bit of a mad scientist streak in them. Opening the door, he heard them talking excitedly about the geological news.

"Don't you see! The pond is renewing itself constantly. The water continues to be kept warm with the influx of heated water from below," one lab assistant squawked excitedly. "As long as the water keeps flowing we don't have to worry about the temperature variation."

"But won't the salinity wear thin eventually? That will kill the sea creatures as surely as freezing would," Finch said as he stepped into the room, remembering his biology classes in college.

"Thank you, Mr. Finch. That's what I've been saying," said another exasperated lab assistant. Turning back to the other would-be scientists, the woman growled. "You're an idiot! It won't last more than a few more months when the Salinity goes down!"

"And that's why we're building the aquaculture laboratory," a new voice said, this one a middle aged woman in a white labcoat. She pulled out a new set of blueprints. "Allan. I don't think you've seen this yet. This is the plan for Sunnydale's newest construction project."

"Isn't this one of the buildings in the mountain city? The one we thought were baths?" Finch asked, confused. "I don't see how that is going to help us."

"Each bath is the size of a small pond," the scientist explained. "But all of them are connected to each other by pipes. In the initial design, so far as the architects, engineers and archaeologists can tell us, was that this would become gray water for washing streets, cleaning areas and feeding plants. We plan to turn them into aquaculture vats."

"You mean like a huge aquarium," Finch said, thinking he had the right idea.

"Exactly," the second lab assistant said. "It's a bit more complicated because of the weight of this much water, but we can do it. The walls and seams have to be much stronger than normal aquariums because of the massive amount of water we're dealing with. We want to raise the levels so that we can have even more in there. There are many species that live on layers and if we can take advantage of that we could do wonders."

"What are you making the walls out of? We don't have any plexiglass left and I don't think our glassworks has that kind of manufacturing capabilities," Finch said, just pointing out criticisms. The first lab assistant looked crest fallen and the second looked vindicated.

"That's something we haven't quite worked out yet," the head biologist said. "The archaeology department found something they think will work, a sort of transparent metal mineral that the city builders used to make windows. It has the strength of steel, but the weight and transparency of glass. Pound for pound, it's even stronger than aluminum. If the chemistry department can synthesize it, it could solve a number of our problems."

"I can see how it would help in a lot of ways. If this works, you might actually be able to feed everyone with this," Finch said.

"Not exclusively, but it will supplement our food," the hyperactive lab assistant said, pointing out several spots on the blueprint. "These particular places are water drains that recycle the water. The Archaeologists think they were originally planning on tapping the groundwater to fill them and then let the baths cycle through constantly refreshed water. We are planning something similar, but all the water will go through a cycling system like a personal garden pond. This entire complex will become essentially a giant series of fish tanks that will grow everything from lobsters to fish to shellfish. We could actually make it a luxury item if all works well."

"That's almost more ambitious than the SunnyRail project," Finch said, impressed.

"We have an almost inexhaustible source of power, we might as well use it to keep us alive," the scientists said with a smirk. "And don't forget that UC Sunnydale is a sea grant college. That's a whole department just going to waste in this new land locked nation."

"So are these the maps of the mountain city? Is it okayed for occupation?"

"Almost we're getting there," the first lab assistant said, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "It isn't completely mapped yet. Every time they think they've figured it out, they find a new section of the city. It's almost two miles across and quarter of a mile deep. Whoever built that was a massive civilization, thought big and built bigger. From what we can tell it has almost everything planned out. From what my friends tell me-" She was quickly cut off by the lead scientists.

"Kiki, if he wanted to hear the whole story, he would go to the archaeology department and get the real story behind it, not second hand from a hyperactive lab assistant that poings all over the place," grumbled the second assistant. The first assistant's face fell and suddenly seemed overly depressed.

"My name's not Kiki," she said, moping.

Deputy Mayor Allan Finch then moved onto the chemistry department, to see what the problems they were having. He had heard that a number of commonly used earth substances were not able to be reproduced easily, much as Dr. Walsh had said to him earlier in the day. This new substance also intrigued him. Harder than steel, stronger than aluminum and as transparent as glass. Grinning as he thought of the Mayor's plans for Sunnydale, the deputy mayor trudged down the hallway.

Allan Finch walked into the Chemistry building at UC Sunnydale in the mid afternoon. The place was remarkably quiet, with no current experiments active. Instead the great majority of chemists and assistants were gathered in one of the classrooms, hashing out a problem on the blackboard.

"No, it still doesn't make sense," said one of them, a woman by the name of Dr. Melanson. Finch didn't know her first name. "The elements simply don't combine this way."

"Or we just don't yet know how to force them to combine that way," said another chemist.

"Dr. Fallon, I cannot believe a society as primitive as this would be able to perform this kind of complex chemistry," argued Dr. Melanson. She was an attractive woman in her late 40s with just a touch of gray in her hair. She had an instantly recognizable precision streak. Dr. Fallon was almost her exact opposite. He was young, fat and a slob. Unfortunately for those who dealt with him on a regular basis, he was quite smart and a bit arrogant about it. In the few times Finch had visited the laboratory, he was rarely seen without something to eat. As it was, his lab coat, still nominally white, had a yellowish tinge the other coats did not. Mentally, Allan Finch had likened the man to a chemical focused Dennis Nedry on more than one occasion. "Oh, Mr. Finch. What are you doing here today?"

"I heard about the glass steel recovered from the city and wanted to see how things were going," he said. Nodding to the blackboard, he raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is this it?"

"Yes, this is the whole mess," Dr. Melanson said, gesturing to take in the whole blackboard. "Chemistry that doesn't follow the rules of chemistry."

"The rules we know of!" insisted Dr. Fallon. Dr. Melanson just glared at him.

"What is the problem?"

"The problem is that we can't replicate this, even on a small scale," Dr. Melanson said. "We have figured out the molecular structure of the substance, but we don't why it has the structure it does."

"What if it's magical?" Finch asked innocently. The scientists glared at him almost instantly. Like most Sunnydale Scientists, the local chemistry department did not approve of the "it's magic" explanation for many things. One intrepid mathematician had seen fit to mathematically "prove" dragons shouldn't be able to fly, against all visual evidence to the contrary of course.

"Nonsense." The two chemists said in unison.

"It's a possibility; a very likely one in fact," he continued. The two chemists looked about ready to argue loudly. So he used the gambit that always shut them up. "Horse drawn flying chariots on fire."

They both shut up.

"So, have you tried investigating other avenues? Have you asked the ambassadors about the problem?" Finch continued. "You might think they are primitive, but Ambassador Axegrinder is an accomplished metallurgy expert and the others are at least aware of chemistry under the guise of Alchemy. Just because they don't have indoor pluming doesn't mean they are stupid."

While they stammered, Finch quickly continued on his way, this time to the seed bank and plant repository. When the Shift happened, the town of Sunnydale was caught with its figurative pants down. Sure they had some few small farms, but one thing all of them had discovered quickly was that some plants just couldn't survive the sudden shift from Zone 9 to Zone 6 or 5 (until winter they would not be able to know which). It was only September and people were already noticing a number of their crops were not surviving. In sunny southern California with the long growing seasons and general heat, many crops could be grown year round. That was not going to be the case anymore. Scientists believed that there would be a large number of dead trees come winter, with a large number of the ornamentals being acclimated to their previous climate.

With this in mind, the Agriculture department of UCS had taken over the Sunnydale Dome, the local ice rink. It was already converted to having water on the floor, so that was not a problem. They were also able to convert the roof into a series of skylights which could be programmed to open and close with a flip of a switch. The result was the biggest indoor greenhouse in the town. The wooden bleachers on one half had been broken down and the lumber used for raised beds and divisions between the sections; the other half was used as a series of steps for potted plants. Tons of soil had been imported into the building to support the plants. The final effect was more like a small indoor jungle than a biological research station.

There were basically five zones in the Dome. Each section held a group of plants that had similar needs in soils and humidity. The first was the desert section where a great number of plants were being planted. Primarily, these were plants that were known to have important uses, such as agave (though Finch suspected this was more for the use in making tequila rather than anything practical). This was kept as dry as needed, with scrambled together dehumidifiers pumping the water out of the air and into the second section.

This second section was dedicated to mimicking a tropical rainforest. Spices, herbs, exotic fruits and others were grown here. This section was situated in the middle of the building to allow for greater heights that some of those plants could reach. The rainforest section was more for posterity than any ideas of mass production. Finch doubted that many people would be able to taste the results save once or twice per year. People treated vanillia flavoring and extract like the finest of fine wines. Chocolate was even more prised, and kept as secret stocks under lock and key.

This third section was dedicated towards teaching people how to grow plants at home. These were herbs, indoor fruit trees and small gardens. Nothing was planted here permanently, but it was used as a starting place for cloned plants, seedlings and cuttings which would go into production at people's homes. One of the more unpopular decisions the Mayor had made was his plan for everyone to know about farming. Sunnydale had a large population of white collar workers and the idea of being forced to grow your own food was not pleasant. But the Mayor had insisted on it and this particular lab was created to teach people how to do just that. And, as wonders never cease in Sunnydale, the seminars had caught on like wildfire. Sunnydale's private sector looked more like something out of Britain with raised beds and exquisitely shaped gardens where lawns and patios used to be.

The fourth section was often considered to be the most important. This section, the largest of them all, had glass walls like the others, but was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. This particular section contained the budding medicinal plant development laboratory. Cannabis, the opium poppy and other previously illegal plants were being tested for viability in use of painkillers for the hospitals. Already hemp was in mass production for use as an anti-inflammatory and it's many other properties. Other plants were also being experimented on, including the local Cassil shrub, which, by local legend was said to render a man infertile for about a week and Nararoot, the tuberous equivalent for women. The local populace was pushing for human testing as soon as possible. The cave moss found in the buried city was declared edible, having been tested in this very laboratory.

Allan Finch sat down in the fifth and final section. This was a place where people brought plants they found or had raised themselves, but might not have the time to care for. It was a strange mishmash of bonsai, hanging potted plants and exotic flowers. With the oncoming winter, people were afraid some of their houses would not be warm enough and heirloom plants would die and had brought them here to the laboratory. The final effect was rather beautiful. Taking a break, Allan Finch, the deputy mayor of Sunnydale, accidental second in line of the new executive branch, and poor diplomat, ate a small sandwich while he absorbed the day's events. This had become a small tradition of his. Although the doors were normally kept unlocked, there was rarely anyone who came around after hours. Here, in his private hiding place, Allan Finch was able to get some well needed peace and quiet. The warm and quiet was relaxing and soon, he leaned back and took a nap.

Dark Willow looked down on the city of Sunnydale. In that first month she had learned all she could from Elminster without spending years under his tutelage, save sapping the magic from him directly. There were no spells exchanged or particular spellweaving involved in their interaction. At best it could be considered a brief training course from a coworker. It took little time to see that they would never see eye to eye on most subjects. A big part of that was a simple matter of background, as much as Elminster might deny it. Elminster was a born prince and a longtime follower of Mystra. Dark Willow had tried to destroy the world and almost succeeded. However, they had irreconcilable differences in their opinions of magic as well. Elminster felt it was best to teach rather than take, a lesson he had been taught the hard way in his youth. Dark Willow felt that magic should be taken first and then given out after it is mastered. Elminster tended to look at her as a child who needed a nap. Dark Willow looked at Elminster as an old letch who managed to have some magical ability. There were also…issues with her sexuality. It was one of the many things about the old mage that she had learned to dislike: he had a bit of a homophobic streak.

That month of learning of the Weave had taught her an important lesson: everything was connected. She was connected to this Sunnydale as much as she was connected to magic itself and the powers that went from that. She had already witnessed her capacity for regeneration, possibly better than the Slayer. She could feel magic all around her and in all things. In her old world, she had trashed everything in an attempt to get back what she had lost. Now she knew that was foolish. She knew she was foolish, but that did not make the pain any less.

She instead was about to throw herself into her magic, but not the way she had lost control before. Before she had relied on others: power from Rack, the intoxication of casting spell after spell. Here, in the Weave, she felt no need for that rush. The power was hers to use. It was like slapping a patch on a nicotine addict.

One of the many things she had learned when dealing with Elminster was that her ability to sense magic far outstripped his own. To her, magic was a scent, something to chase after and enjoy after the climax. Elminster argued that personal creation was more important and that as Chosen they had responsibilities to spread it throughout the realms. Truth be told, she did not know why she returned to Sunnydale. It was not her Sunnydale, after all. That was not her Tara who lived in the city below. There was little reason for her to return. And yet she had.

Glancing down at the town one last time, she sighed and sought out her options. She was unsure where to go next. There were many areas rich in magic: Netheril and Myth Drannor to the east; Halruaa to the south; Waterdeep and Candlekeep to the west. Of course these were only a few of the many magical realms. She was tempted to try her luck against Hellgate Keep, but that might be foolish to try alone. Any direction was as good as another. Picking a random route, she flew off, leaving Sunnydale behind.

"Hey, Mr. Finch."

Still asleep, the deputy mayor scrunched up his face at the sound.

"Hey."

Finch opened one eye. He was still in the Sunnydale Dome garden. And it was morning. Snapping upright, he glanced around. Standing over him was one of the people assigned to the morning tending of the experiments. One of the college students, Finch guessed.

"Uh, how long have you been here, Mr. Finch?"

Finch rubbed his eyes.

"Since yesterday," he said with a yawn. It was time to get up, get cleaned, have breakfast and get back to work. He glanced at his watch. 5:37. He'd been asleep for almost twelve hours. Crap. He missed the meeting with the Mayor. "Look, if you don't mind, would you please, uh, not mention to anyone that I was in here. It, uh, might look bad, considering the experiments in here."

"Hey, no problem man, I know what you mean," the man said. He held out a hand and helped the deputy mayor to his feat. "Just, uh, you've gotta be tired if you fall asleep in here. It's not the most comfortable place." He suddenly looked really hesitant. "Not, that I'm judging you or anything man!"

"No worries," Finch said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "I've just been really tired lately."

Giving the man a nod of thanks, Finch walked out the door and started back towards his apartment. Unlocking the door, Finch walked inside and shut the door behind him. Silently, he trudged to the bathroom; a while later he was clean and felt a little refreshed. He walked to his closet, put on a new suit and sat down for breakfast. There was a senior staff meeting at nine and he had to be ready. Finishing his weak coffee (he had been straining and refrigerating the grounds for reuse for a while now; it was quite thin), he rushed out of the house, clamored onto his bicycle and peddled off to City Hall.

In Zhentil Keep, Manshoon was pondering the account he had heard from his diplomat of the previous night. Apparently, Cormyr had finally sent a team to investigate the new nation. Cormyr had, by the rumors, accused Sunnydale of colluding with demons. Manshoon had been informed that the Sunnydale definition of Demon was not exactly the same as the Faerunian definition, as it tended to encompass all creatures from other planes, not just those from the Abyss. Also, not all of those were seen as "evil" as the term went, although some did. Vampires and all other undead were considered to be evil, as were others that feasted on mortals or demanded lives in sacrifice.

Manshoon was amused by the situation. Although Peris was technically a traitor to the Zhentarim, and both of them knew it, he was very skilled and useful. Peris was also dedicated to fight against the powers of Fzoul and the Beholder, both of which were becoming a little too powerful for Manshoon's own good. Fzoul, the High Cleric of Bane, had been attempting to turn the Zhentarim into a theocratic regime under his rule for some time now. Manshoon, the founder of the mercantile organization, was more interested in power rather than what deity had the most fawning minions, er, clerics.

Clerics had their uses, but Manshoon had regretted the decision to join forces with the Church of Bane almost since the moment he did so. Soon, Fzoul would call for a period of cleansing, Manshoon predicted, and Manshoon's faction would be lucky to escape with their lives. He was powerful, but he was not so overly arrogant as to think he would prevail unscathed. He needed an exit stratagem, and he was beginning to form one. It might be time to make a state visit to Sunnydale.

Allan Finch carefully pulled his bike up the steps and into City Hall. The parking lot under the building was still filled with water and the only place to keep transportation was out on the lawn for horses (which were in short supply) or bicycles (which had become a favored target of theft). Slipping into his office he started reviewing his notes. A short while later, there was a knock at his door. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Kaanyrr Vhok, former leader of the Scoured Legion and current Special Projects administrator for Sunnydale. Other people might not know what Special Projects meant, but Finch had worked for the Mayor for years. Procuring babies for sacrifice was the least of Vhok's new tasks. Vhok deposited a bundle of books on Finch's desk.

"I'm supposed to tell you these were 'found' in the houses of the fallen from the attack this summer," Vhok said with a smile. Finch glanced at the stack. They were a series of technical manuals to technology from the First and Second World Wars. Books Finch knew were not from Sunnydale. That restricted section in the Initiative kept all books found so far that could be potentially dangerous if they fell into the wrong hands. It was a massive collection of books.

"This was your special project for yesterday, wasn't it?" Finch said.

"What's a special project?"

'Fine, go the plausible deniability route,' though Finch bitterly, glaring at the person's sardonic smile. Out loud, he kept his temper in check. "Should I mention that these were discovered in the process of winterizing houses?"

"I suppose that could work," the cambion replied. Finch had to admit the creature was good at his job and was on the verge of scarily smart. He had only a trace of an accent in English, something that reminded Finch of South Africa, and had picked up American idioms very well. He could read English almost perfectly, already fluent in Orcish, and was starting on the other four major languages: Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, and Norwegian.

"You're not going to tell me where you got these, are you?" asked Finch, the question rhetorical. The cambion only smiled and slipped out the door. Allan Finch sighed. Might as well add them to the talk.

He focused back on his notes for a while before moving towards the conference room. Although he was not the first, there were still a number of people left to arrive. The General, Walsh, Dr. Chung, Joyce Summers and Rupert Giles were present. Finch didn't expect the Slayer and her friends to show up, as they tended to find this kind of meeting boring.. Soon enough, the others arrived and the meeting was ready to begin. The Mayor sat down at Finch's left, at the head of the table.

"As you know, we are behind in our construction goals," the Mayor said. "Winter is coming and we aren't quite ready. Mr. Finch here is going to get us all up to speed on the situation. Mr. Finch?"

"Thank you Mr. Mayor," he replied, standing up. He pressed the button to bring up the first slide. "As you know, this is Sunnydale as it was before the Shift." He clicked to a new slide. This one showing the sprawling metropolis Sunnydale had become with the expansion. "This is where we are as of a week ago. We have houses for a great number of people, but we aren't done." The next slide showed a house partially finished through winterization. "We are approximately 1/3 of the way towards winterizing all buildings. The residential areas around Revello Drive and the new districts along the Ridge Route and Lakeside Heights are winterized by now, but the greater majority are not. We are facing a serious crisis. The way I see it, we can only finish a quarter of the remaining before snowfall, and that is assuming we break our promises of a return to normal after the Equinox."

"That is not an option," Joyce Summers said. She had changed position to more of a press secretary for the Wilkins administration. The people were willing to talk to her when they wouldn't talk to Finch or the others. "People are already on the verge of revolt and something like this might push them over the edge."

"I agree," Nabiki Tendo said. She was still the de facto liaison to the "foreign" population in town even through each minority faction had their own leader. She dealt with them on a daily basis and only passed them off to Finch for a special meeting. "No people are going to be happy if this continues. There are many problems that have already begun to surface and this will only make them worse."

"I am aware of that, and that is one of the many things we need to discuss in this meeting," Wilkins said. He looked back to Finch and nodded for him to continue.

"We all know the consequences of what could and will happen this winter," Finch said. "People, animals and plants are going to die if we don't get something worked out. The first problem we can deal with by household consolidation to a certain degree, but that only goes so far. There is the simple fact that people are not used to having two or more families in the same household and we already have that in many cases from the initial refugees. Mandating this more would cause greater protests. These protests would be especially loud coming from those who have the most room, as we have already seen." He looked directly at the Economic advisor, Mr. Chase. Chase glared back for just a moment, but relaxed. "We need to find some kind of middle ground."

"How about a volunteer program? We collect the names of families who are willing to volunteer to house other families and give them benefits for doing so," Joyce suggested. There were nods from around the table. "That way we eliminate the heavy handedness of an executive order and we can lay the blame on those who don't help."

"An excellent idea," the Mayor said. "But please continue, Mr. Finch."

"That will help a great deal, but it will not fix the entire problem," Finch said. "I propose we use a Japanese model to help us get through the winter. It will also help us conserve resources that we could then use for other things like continuing the winterization during winter." He flipped to a photograph of an outdoor hot spring. "This is a hot spring. It's generated by heat boiling up from below the surface and can be very hot. It only appears in volcanically active regions like Japan, Yellowstone, and this region right here. Now, with a country like Japan where timber is a precious resource, most places do not build with the same amount of supplies that we do here, or did back in the States. Instead they use public bath houses to warm them up and then go to bed in heavy blankets. The building itself stays rather cold, but the people are warm. My suggestion is that we focus less on the immediate renovation of all houses and build a few of these."

"I'll be quite blunt, but why? Would this really be in our best interest as a long term investment?" Chase was looking at the economic side of things as usual and ignoring the practical as usual. He was far too much like his brother and sister-in-law for Finch to like the man. White bread, upper crust, with a nose too far up in the air to see the common person, Chase considered himself to be among the chosen in terms of social status and that had not changed after the Shift. In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse.

"To save lives, Mr. Chase, to save lives," said the General from the back of the room. Finch gave him a small smile of thanks. The General was always someone who never forgot that saving lives was his ultimate job. Sunnydale was damn lucky to have him, too. "How do you propose to build them, and where?"

"Preferably, I would like to have them situated in existing population centers," Finch clicked to the next slide. The map was similar to those before, but instead a number of lines had been highlighted in purple and several with green. "The purple lines represent water pipes no longer in use after they were cut off during the Shift. I would like to use them to supply geothermal hot springs water with gravity feed assisted by a series of mechanical pumps. I asked the engineering department, and they claim that the pipes can deal with the boiling water and are chemically safe for the most part. The green lines are what we are currently using to supply fresh water to housing districts. In few places will the two pipelines interact and that can be dealt with by creating bypasses for one or the other."

"As for where they would go," Finch continued, "that is a different problem. We need to have them where people live, but we don't really have space in those same centers. We could use some of the parks or cemeteries. Since the public baths would be a necessity I don't think too many people would complain."

"I have a couple of questions," said Dr. Chung. "First, I like the idea, but we need to make sure that there are different levels of heat in different baths to prevent overheating. That was really more of a comment. Second, what about using existing buildings that have yet to be modified?"

"To answer the first, we'd need advice on how to do that and what those temperatures should be," Finch began before being interrupted by a commotion from the hallway. The mayor scowled and nodded to a guard who exited the room. As the door opened, angry words in some unknown language echoed through the room. Finch signed as he recognized the voice of the Cormyrian "diplomat." He looked back at the mayor. "Could we take a short break?"

The mayor nodded sadly. Finch put on a grim look and followed after the guard. Sure enough, the Purple Knight was trying to get into the meeting. His demands were unknown since no one was using translation magic. He was angry, whatever he was saying. As the man spied Finch, the Cormyrian started at him, forcing the deputy mayor to take an involuntary step back. The guards kept a firm hand on the Knight's shoulders, preventing him from going any further. The knight kept yelling something.

Finch reached into his pocket, pulling out the translation amulet. He hung it around his neck and willed it to start its magic. As was usually the case, the words suddenly made sense.

"You-fools! You let evil infest your city! Your city will fall into the hands of evil! And then you will all know the truth!" The blather went on, but Finch ignored it for a moment.

"You are obviously upset, but you are also obviously not a diplomat," Finch said. "This is not the way to encourage good will, nor is it the time or place for such a discussion. We are in the middle of a meeting. Please, we can meet at a later time to discuss your perceived grievances." The knight was having none of it. As he ranted on, Finch pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Finally, Finch had enough. "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

That shut the knight up.

It also surprised the guards, the people in the meetings and those in nearby offices. All sound seemed to stop as the normally quiet and mild mannered Allan Finch finally lost it. He absorbed the silence for a long moment before stalking over to the man. "We run our government the way we wish, but the demands of the citizens, and not foreign powers! You walk in here, demanding to review our actions when you clearly have no respect for anyone else! Don't you ever speak to me or anyone with that tone about 'evil' or whatever bullshit you people think we have going one here! I am so fucking sick and tired of you and your kind looking at us like we are idiots or simpletons! Our old nation is so far advanced and we didn't even need magic to do any of it! We could move armies across continents in under a week! Cross oceans in less than a day! We landed on the moon and sent satellites out of the solar system! You primitive pieces of shit have no right to come into our town and act so sanctimonious about some perceived religious offense or difference in opinion! We have a thing called rule by the masses, something your kind would never understand! If we make a choice, it's ours to make! We don't interfere with your backwards, primitive culture, so don't you start shoving your nose into ours, you sword wielding, purple dyed tin can! Come back when you have indoor plumbing you primitive, feudal, autocratic, might-makes-right, squalor living, shit-in-the-streets horse lovers!"

By the time he was finished, Allan was beet red in the face and was heaving with the effort. And everyone was looking at him. A few, the MPs at the doors in particular, looked more than a little scared. The other advisors were looking at him from the two doors to the room. It felt good to let go.

But then, Allan Finch's eyes met the mayors and all bluster blew away.

"Mr. Finch, I think you need a time out," Richard Wilkins said in a disapproving, fatherly tone.

Finch sighed and walked into his office. But just as he was about to shut the door, Finch heard the Mayor's words to the diplomat quite clear. "As for you, Allan might not have kept his cool about the situation, but everything he said was right. I think it's time for you and your pals to leave Sunnydale until you can come back with a real diplomat. The MPs will escort you out."

A week passed since Allan Finch's now legendary outburst. The rumors had gotten out about how the deputy mayor had giving the Cormyr ambassador a brutal dressing down and as a result, Finch was both hero and villain to various factions in the city. The edited version (for language) was released over the airwaves and there was an uproar over talking to a visiting representative in such a tone. The irony of the situation was that Finch's public persona had transformed from a man in the shadows to a hot-head. Finally, Finch himself went on the air with a press release to address his behavior.

"Four days ago I confronted the leader of the Cormyrian Embassy," Deputy Mayor Allan Finch said to the press. It was his first time really in the spotlight of the press, even back when it was just the local news. "I am here today to apologize for-" Finch cut himself off and paused a moment. He glanced at the words he had prepared: polite, calm, meek. They were not what he wanted to say. "Actually, I am not here to apologize for what I said to the Ambassador, but really only how I said it. I was rude, this I will admit and I agree I should not have lost my temper at him. But the fact remains that what I said, the core of the meaning, was true: we have the right to rule ourselves the way we wish."

"Now think about that a moment," he said, glancing at the cameras and microphones. The carefully crafted script was useless at this point. "We are not yet a nation. We are a city lost in a hostile wilderness. We are a group of factions shoved into a small space. We do not have enough food to feed everyone a full meal all the time so some of us go hungry. These past few months we have been trying to correct this and re-forge our city into a nation. But we aren't there yet. Jesus Rodriguez knows this. Donald Martin knows this. Nabiki Tendo knows this. The orcs know this and I know this."

"That is an important bit to remember," Finch continued. "We—as in you, me, the neighbors next door and the guy across the street—We have to organize ourselves or else someone else is going to come along and do it for us. Like that man from Cormyr."

"I don't know if people have actually heard what he said, but he accused us of being corrupt and foolish, of being unable to rule ourselves," he said. "He took it upon himself to inspect the city and checking to see if it was up to his standards. He has no right to say what we can and cannot do. The man doesn't even understand the concept of democratic rule and he took it upon himself to 'inspect' Sunnydale for, and I quote, 'evil' which he claimed to find. He found it impossible to understand why we do not have a feudal lord. And he expected me to bow over for him simply because he's the great and mighty Oz of his home town. That wasn't going to work here. We aren't a monarchy with an aristocracy. We didn't have even monarchical rule on the Earth except for a few small places. And those few are mostly figureheads now. It's something we are going to have to remember for the future."

"This is not the last time we are going to deal with feudal lords," Finch commented. "There will be a second, a third and I don't doubt we will get to several hundred over time. But in our lack of royalty, of a noble class, others will perceive weakness where there is none. We need to make sure there is no weakness.

"They way we are now, we are weak," Finch said honestly. "We have a small army that can barely keep minotaurs from getting into the city. We have an air force that doesn't have fuel for the planes. Our police force is understaffed and overworked. If a major attack hit us now, we could easily be crushed. But does that mean I am giving up hope? Hell no! This just means we need to work harder than we ever did before. To get where we want to be, we have to work harder, stricter. We have to organize ourselves, not have people do it for us."

"And this brings up the economic bind we are in," he said grimly. "We have a growing debt to other nations and we only have so much to repay those debts. We can't always depend on a surplus of demon-orc armor or a sudden discovery of some ancient artifact. We are the only ones who can overcome that. We, together, as Sunnydale."

"We need to focus on production, both for ourselves and for trade," Finch said. "I don't want all this debt hanging over my head, but I know that if we all work together, we can turn this debt into a surplus. Economics is how we rise and fall and I know we can rise. We have debt now, but when we get production going there is nothing that can stop us. By working together we can not only stay where we are in terms of technology, but even continue on. We can become one of the greatest nations this world has ever known."

"Now, I don't mean we have some kind of Manifest Destiny," clarified the deputy mayor. "I mean that we are in control of our own destiny. We are the people of the future, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! We have technology beyond anything else on this planet and eventually that technology is going to spread. We won't be able to stop that. When people see the power of a car or a gun they are going to try and recreate them. For all we know they might move towards a magical solution. When it comes down to it, we need to keep ahead of the curve so we don't get lost in the maelstrom we create. If we don't keep our heads above water we might well become another failed nation in the Nether Mountains. We must become Sunnydale."

With that, Allan Finch suddenly realized how much he said. And he suddenly became very aware of all the cameras in front of him. He took a deep breath and let it out. Glancing about the room he looked at the reporters and put on a sheepish little smile.

"Any questions?"