OR1-EP4: Prelude to the Millennium (14)

After returning from England, McNeil's mood had been less than stable. Governor-general Herzog saw it in his eyes, and he wasn't about to take the initiative to ask about what McNeil had seen and heard in England. Everyone has their own secrets, it is unwise to recklessly try to investigate someone else's past, and keeping one's mouth shut is a sign of mutual trust.

To Governor-general Herzog's surprise, McNeil took it upon himself to mention the matter to him.

"Won't you ask me what I did in England?"

"Not interested." The Governor-general didn't look like he cared at all about other people's personal matters, "I thought our relationship was one of cooperation, not one where one party swears allegiance to the other. If you were my subordinate, I would have investigated all generations of your ancestors."

Governor-general Herzog decided to go for a progressive legislator with investment value, and he sought the advice of Mr. François Malcal. The old gentleman, who had been in the business wars for decades, told him never to invest in seasoned old slickers, who often had dozens of different powers jockeying behind them, and that getting involved in the entanglements could lead to unnecessary trouble.

"It's essential to invest in rookies who wish they could do something at a young age." François Marcal met with Governor-general Herzog at his private residence on the outskirts of Paris. It was his home base, and he was perfectly capable of assuming the attitude of a master in the face of the governor-general, and the host-guest status of the two parties changed instantly. Now it was Herzog who had asked for him, and François Malcal could just as easily have offered the right price to make Herzog die for him.

Michael McNeil stood just behind the Governor-general and continued to act as the Governor's bodyguard and assistant. François Malcal was chatty, rattling off the backgrounds of a dozen or so legislators who could be one of the next consuls, from which he chose five as possible investments. The Malcal family had invested in Herzog before, and it turned out that Herzog had let them down - hopefully their vision would be more accurate this time.

"Will the rookie be insatiable?" McNeil questioned.

"How so?"

"The young will always be more ambitious than the old. If I had made tens of millions of dollars before I turned thirty, I would have considered going on to make a few hundred million instead of taking those tens of millions and going home to retire." McNeil spoke out his opinion without being condescending, "Those rising stars who became Senate members before the age of thirty, if they have the chance to become one of the three consuls of EU at that age, the world-involved ones will be mesmerized by fame and power."

" Ne vous inquiétez pas !" Francois Malcal slapped his big hand on the five pictures, "You mean they'll turn on us, don't you? But, if they don't want to be quickly ousted from power, they'll have to do what we tell them to do. We can put them in that position, and we can kick them out whenever and wherever we want."

"You're right, I was overthinking about it." McNeil apologized awkwardly to the old man. He had overlooked the important fact that the businessmen in front of him had more power than those officials.

In the end, François Marcal chose a councilor named Marcel Walpole for Governor-general Herzog to negotiate with. Governor-general Herzog and McNeil had just come out of the Malcal family mansion and immediately went to the address given by old Mr. Malcal to find out where councilor Walpole lived. This councilor Walpole's main work was in the cultural field, and he advocated for a more open cultural environment in order to change EU's current status quo where all cultural industries were only profit-oriented.

McNeil made a point of purchasing a copy of Rep. Walpole's campaign material, which lists several of the congressman's major platforms. Speaking in Warsaw, Rep. Walpole had said that the EU's current so-called art was destroying not only the art itself, but also the aesthetic and thinking abilities of the next generation.

"Never since the end of the old era have we faced a period of such division: between a minority of elitists and a majority of citizens." McNeil, who was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, handed the material to Governor-general Herzog in the back, "Your Excellency, how do you intend to talk him down?"

"We have common interests, cultural openness and prosperity is a false proposition if there remains a portion of society that is discriminated against and enslaved, he should be aware of that." The Governor-general scanned the guidelines listed on the campaign materials, "As for the problems he pointed out ... a bunch of paid, self-righteous fools producing cultural garbage at the behest of their masters, and citizens who have no choice but to tough it out and pay for it, only to have those same people smugly say that they are being treated by the citizens' Welcome ... It's just a vicious cycle."

McNeil sighed, empathizing with this.

"It's not art, it's just a product on a factory assembly line."

"Yes, you can dive into being an artist, but you'll soon be rounded up by these heavy-handed people until you surrender or quit the business." The Governor-general laughed hopelessly, "It is fortunate that we can yet hear voices of opposition coming from among the citizens now. By the time our countrymen are fully accustomed to this incestuous thing, they won't even realize it's a blight on normal aesthetics."

Marcel Walpole's ancestors appear to have been English, and they later emigrated to France, still using the Walpole surname. The MP, who does not own yachts and private jets and mansions worth tens of millions of dollars like the rest of his peers, almost couldn't afford to pay for college back in the day, and has so far failed to pay off his loans and is strapped for cash. He is one of the few who live like a beggar among the generally well-heeled legislators who do not worry about their livelihoods. He is often criticized by his peers, who regard councilor as a sacred profession, as a clown begging on an electoral platform.

"There was a tradition in ancient Roman times: don't make poor people officials or legislators." The Governor-general had his chauffeur park on the street outside Councilman Walpole's residence and continued to address McNeil, who was picking up his briefcase, "because, it was believed that they would do whatever it took to change their impoverished situation."

"However, the rich will do anything to consolidate their position and acquire more wealth than the poor will do to utilize the power at their disposal." McNeil opened the car door, helped Governor-general Herzog to the door, and rang the bell.

A sweaty young man opened the door and was walking around the room holding a pile of clothes. McNeil had seen many young men born with blonde hair, and most of them were sharp and even as flighty as Edward Shaing. The young councilor in front of him, Marcel Walpole, was the only somewhat disheveled person of his age he had seen so far.

No, he was actually eighty years old.

"Greetings, Citizen Councilor Walpole." The Governor-general looked at the wrecked house in surprise, "You're-"

"Cleaning." Marcel Walpole replied dryly.

"Why don't you hire someone else to do it?"

"I have my own hands and feet and I'm not crippled, so why do I have to hire someone else?" Senator Walpole motioned for the crowd to sit on the sofa in the parlor, which McNeil saw at a glance was broken, so he told the Governor-general to sit on the not-yet-broken side, and himself brought a stool from another room and placed it beside the sofa.

Unconcerned about his personal appearance, Senator Walpole hastily gathered up the clutter in the room, sat down on the other broken couch, and asked Governor-general Herzog to say what he had come for.

"Alas, it is hard to see the councilman who does his best for the citizens of EU living in such a dilapidated house." The Governor-general sighed, "If it's fine with you, I'm willing to gift you a new property, which isn't too far from here."

Councilman Walpole, dressed in white shirt and slacks, wiped his hands, and hung his towel on a side shelf.

"If you're going to entrust me with anything, it's best to get someone else." The councilor gestured to the dilapidated house, "Assuming I'm really that good, how would I still be living in a place like this?"

"I am not entrusting you with anything, but planning to make a friend." The Governor-general leaned his body forward, molding a serious conversational stance to the other, "History is progressing, and the ways of the past don't work anymore. I may be a very traditional and conservative old man, but I do agree with some of your ideas. I have heard that your party is internally deciding on the list of people who will run for the next election, and I was wondering if the councilor-citizen would be interested in running?"

Marcel Walpole saw that McNeil was holding in his hands the promotional materials he had used when he ran for councilor at the time, and realized that the other man had done the homework well.

"Citizens don't like old people. Young people want to see their views represented by someone not too far removed from their age." The councilman nodded, "I do want to fight for this opportunity. However, your support may be counterproductive as there has been quite a bit of friction between you and us in the past."

The Governor-general looked quizzically at McNeil, who was sitting beside him, and McNeil, who knew nothing of this, also looked quizzically at Councilor Walpole.

"Friction?"

"The last time two MPs went to South Africa to investigate the living conditions of the miners, you had them arrested and imprisoned for over two months." Councilor Walpole reminded the Governor, "You can't be that forgetful, can you?"

The Governor-general looked at McNeil with a blank expression, as if asking himself:

"Is there such a thing?"

"... There is, isn't there?" McNeil didn't understand what had happened in the past few years of Governor-general Herzog's administration, and he could only use his intuition to surmise the other party's intentions.

The Governor-general was silent for a moment, then suddenly broke into a soothing smile, clapping his hands together and laughing at Walpole:

"Oops, I remembered. But then again, we arrested them at that time neither because they were your party's councilors nor because they touched our soft underbelly, but because the two of them were suspected of harboring a murderer. I am a fair man and follow only the law."

McNeil didn't know if anyone would believe this kind of crap or not, all he knew was that the Governor-general hadn't brought him here to look the other way. So, after a brief moment of thought, McNeil decided to pick a fight between the two sides to Councilor Walpole.

"Councilor Citizen, Governor-general Herzog has had problems with you in the past, but that is a legacy of the past." McNeil said confidently, "Times are always changing, and sticking to past perceptions will only lead to missed opportunities. Your Excellency, it is simply impossible for an ordinary person to get the support of a solid Governor, and I'm sure you know very well who is behind His Excellency. Of course, we are all people who have seen the world clearly, and just talking about life and ideals doesn't work. Whatever are your conditions, just say it."

Marcel Walpole pulled out a slip of paper from the pocket of his backpack pants and handed it to Governor-general Herzog. The Governor-general felt dizzy just reading it; it turned out that Marcel Walpole planned to introduce a much larger public welfare entitlement in the EU, especially to raise the level of backward education in Africa. These strategies would undoubtedly be supported by the poor, and perhaps he would get a reputation as a father of the poor. The benefits of this are obvious; at the command of the Senate, the Governor-general of South Africa will take command of all programs under his name in a big way, whether he really wants to make a career or enrich himself, it is very simple.

"I am a poor man, and my starting point is, of course, the welfare of the poor." Senator Walpole took the note back, "If I were consul, I would set up several public programs in South Africa, and the wave of unemployment that occurs when natives are granted full citizenship would be alleviated. When this program cycle is complete, it will be up to you, Your Excellency the Governor, to acquire these properties, which will henceforth be the private property of the Herzog family. However, I wonder what kind of price you intend to offer to support us?"

"The Foundation ...," McNeil said to himself.

"What foundation?" Marcel Walpole seemed to take an interest.

"It is used to ensure that you do not have to empty our treasury to realize your vision." McNeil triumphantly offered the invitation, "Similar programs have been unpopular in the past, mainly because they put the United Republics in a financial bind. We can take on the risks incidental to these projects, and you will be able to practice your ideas in a bold way."

Marcel Walpole re-examined McNeil with renewed seriousness; he had thought the youth was nothing more than a minor follower of Governor-general Herzog, and now it appeared that he had underestimated McNeil's usefulness.

"Money is also a necessary price to pay for equality." The Governor-general hammered on, "I am willing to contribute fifteen million euros to support your campaign, and when conditions in South Africa stabilize, you will be able to get enough votes here as well."

Councilor Walpole extended his right hand to Governor-general Herzog.

"A pleasure to work with, Your Excellency."

The group left Marcel Walpole's residence with a full house, and the driver and secretary who had followed the Governor-general into the house earlier called the councilor a hypocrite who pretended to be kind.

"And he said he didn't like money, but he accepted it."

The Governor-general, sitting in the back of the upscale sedan, wearily countered his subordinate's point.

"People who take money and do things are cute. What I hate is wild dogs who take money and don't do anything, barking around and confused about who their masters really are."

TBC

Chapter Notes:

The concept of corruption exists only in third world countries; here we call it the rational use of surplus funds after they have been processed through democratic procedures. -Logan Shepherd, best friend of James Solomon and McNeil's 'Uncle Logan'.

Character Profile:

Marcel Walpole, EU Senator. Father of Margaret Walpole.