Drufinia
22-07-2004, 18:18
((I figure what better way to begin on the forums than to have a little fun with the country's government?))
On a rather unimportant street corner, in an unnamed city, within "The Dominion of Drufinia" was a store that sold televisons. Usually the management kept the TVs turned to things that might interest the public, usually a different program on each TV to entice the public further, all things that he learned at a marketing seminar in the capitol. However, today was different. Today, all the TVs were arranged in split-screen fashion, so, much like in many malls, each TV was showing a different part of the picture. Assembled by millions, if not billions of pixels shown upon several CRTs per set, a newscaster's face was inaudibly speaking.
She was perhaps in her early thirties, maybe late twenties, nobody really knew. Honestly, nobody wanted to know. All her male coworkers cared was that she was available and that she wasn't all that bad looking. All her female coworkers cared was that she kept away from the male coworkers. At the present moment, she seemed to be listening quietly, keeping the same painted smile upon her face. The screen switched, suddenly, to a man in a yellow leather trenchcoat with a microphone. He was also saying inaudible things, mostly because the management also muted the TV sets.
The same thing was being recieved at millions of other TV sets across the country, possibly the world for anyone who really cared that much about this particular nation's news. Though some countries were really weird, and some were extremely paranoid about new neighbors that they soaked up every bit of news of these neighbors that they could. In the back of the same TV shop, the manager was watching the same thing he had up front and keeping in awed silence all the while. Sure, there were other, more interesting things to watch on TV, but this had enraptured him for some odd reason.
--
The female newscaster kept the same boring expression on her face all day long. She was forced to smile for the cameras and she hated it. Though the pay was great and the benefits even better. Though that's kinda what happens when the major news network of the country contacts you to be one of its anchorpersons. How could you turn down a job like that if you worked in profiting off of misfortune? It was the freaking holy grail of the news industry! She was an overnight success, or so it seemed to herself. Though before she could revel in her glory much longer, the prompt told her that the other guy's piece was ending.
"Thank you for that report, Paul. Welcome back, the time is now 7:46 A.M. Drufinian Standard Time, and if you're just joining us, a very large day in our nation's history is being told right before your very eyes. The President, in a shocking, and surprising, I might add, turn of events, made a statement that there would be a transfer of power of the leadership of the country today at 9 A.M.! As you can see from our live camera feed of the parliment building, the national parliment has been extremely busy since very early this morning and nobody has been allowed in or out of the building since before 4 o'Clock."
She pauses and takes a quick breath, as was taught to her by her superiors. She was about to enter into another spiel and needed a quick break from it. Thankfully, though, the network had fed a video through at that moment, allowing her to recompose herself. The conents of the video simply showed about 200 old men dragging themselves into a buidling that was probably younger than their grandchildren. They all were extremely tired and grumpy, though the poor feed through the video camera showed a bunch of dark shapes moving through a poorly lit area towards a larger dark blotch. The cameraman responsible had already been fired.
--
"Welcome back to DNN, the Drufinian News Network. Stand by for satellite feed."
The voice was mechanical. Any idiot could understand that. The image displayed on the screen was strange, though midly interesting. It showed the home audience, for the more ignorant among them, how a satellite feed worked while the station was "handshaking" with the satellite, which only meant that it was going through security protocols and establishing a connection. About halfway through the 'presentation', an extremely sharp and clear image cut through showing the inside of the parliment building. Walking down the aisle was the President and an unfamiliar person to everyone but a select few. She was late thirties in age and yet managed to dress so provocatively and yet so conservitavely that she caught everyone's eyes and met their standards.
She wore an entire dress outfit, including tight gray skirt that hugged her knees and had no bounce or flair to it at all, a white blouse, buttoned up straight to the top and a gray jacket covering the blouse to pull the outfit together. She was carrying a briefcase at her side, as was the President. Following them were two distinctly different agencies. One was obviously the more familiar presidential bodyguard entourage. The others, well, they looked like paramilitary types. They were dressed the same as the presidential entourage, but had different colored jackets and pants and each, instead of concealing it, was carrying an automatic weapon in plain sight, placing it over their heart, safeties locked in place.
There was no wasting time. The President and the mysterious woman both opened up their briefcases and retrieved papers from within. A member of each's entourage pulled the chair out for them and then pushed it back in as they were seated. Each began to sign the forms in the same spots, their own names being supplied where appropriate. The entire nation watched in awe as their beloved president of 5 years was giving the nation away to someone that nobody had even heard of before. Even bums off the street were gathered around TV shops to watch this historic event.
With the application of the final signatures, the transfer was complete and both stood up while the senior member of parliment, and the head of that particular body, authorized both copies and finally produced one last paper. The other two signed it, in turn, the President first and the woman second, followed by the head's signature last. In a very polite display, as the head finished his signature. He placed the pen down and stood up, the other two rising with him and everyone in the room stood as well, politely applauding the peaceful exchange.
--
Just over an hour later, after the press corps had its field day with both Presidents, the woman was seated inside of her limo, car phone already in use and the driver stopped at a traffic light.
"I want the last traces of him erased from this country. I also want him dead. Your choice of how it goes, though unhappy citizen is the best bet for doing this without many questions."
She hung the phone up and rolled down the window to the front. Leaning forwards, she gave the driver a charming smile and made a simple request. The light turned green and the driver accelerated to go with traffic, but kept his ear open for what his boss had to say.
"Take me by my new home, driver. I want to see it for myself."
Nodding obediantly, the driver flips his turn signal and changes lanes, going in a new direction, headed towards the Presidential Palace.
On a rather unimportant street corner, in an unnamed city, within "The Dominion of Drufinia" was a store that sold televisons. Usually the management kept the TVs turned to things that might interest the public, usually a different program on each TV to entice the public further, all things that he learned at a marketing seminar in the capitol. However, today was different. Today, all the TVs were arranged in split-screen fashion, so, much like in many malls, each TV was showing a different part of the picture. Assembled by millions, if not billions of pixels shown upon several CRTs per set, a newscaster's face was inaudibly speaking.
She was perhaps in her early thirties, maybe late twenties, nobody really knew. Honestly, nobody wanted to know. All her male coworkers cared was that she was available and that she wasn't all that bad looking. All her female coworkers cared was that she kept away from the male coworkers. At the present moment, she seemed to be listening quietly, keeping the same painted smile upon her face. The screen switched, suddenly, to a man in a yellow leather trenchcoat with a microphone. He was also saying inaudible things, mostly because the management also muted the TV sets.
The same thing was being recieved at millions of other TV sets across the country, possibly the world for anyone who really cared that much about this particular nation's news. Though some countries were really weird, and some were extremely paranoid about new neighbors that they soaked up every bit of news of these neighbors that they could. In the back of the same TV shop, the manager was watching the same thing he had up front and keeping in awed silence all the while. Sure, there were other, more interesting things to watch on TV, but this had enraptured him for some odd reason.
--
The female newscaster kept the same boring expression on her face all day long. She was forced to smile for the cameras and she hated it. Though the pay was great and the benefits even better. Though that's kinda what happens when the major news network of the country contacts you to be one of its anchorpersons. How could you turn down a job like that if you worked in profiting off of misfortune? It was the freaking holy grail of the news industry! She was an overnight success, or so it seemed to herself. Though before she could revel in her glory much longer, the prompt told her that the other guy's piece was ending.
"Thank you for that report, Paul. Welcome back, the time is now 7:46 A.M. Drufinian Standard Time, and if you're just joining us, a very large day in our nation's history is being told right before your very eyes. The President, in a shocking, and surprising, I might add, turn of events, made a statement that there would be a transfer of power of the leadership of the country today at 9 A.M.! As you can see from our live camera feed of the parliment building, the national parliment has been extremely busy since very early this morning and nobody has been allowed in or out of the building since before 4 o'Clock."
She pauses and takes a quick breath, as was taught to her by her superiors. She was about to enter into another spiel and needed a quick break from it. Thankfully, though, the network had fed a video through at that moment, allowing her to recompose herself. The conents of the video simply showed about 200 old men dragging themselves into a buidling that was probably younger than their grandchildren. They all were extremely tired and grumpy, though the poor feed through the video camera showed a bunch of dark shapes moving through a poorly lit area towards a larger dark blotch. The cameraman responsible had already been fired.
--
"Welcome back to DNN, the Drufinian News Network. Stand by for satellite feed."
The voice was mechanical. Any idiot could understand that. The image displayed on the screen was strange, though midly interesting. It showed the home audience, for the more ignorant among them, how a satellite feed worked while the station was "handshaking" with the satellite, which only meant that it was going through security protocols and establishing a connection. About halfway through the 'presentation', an extremely sharp and clear image cut through showing the inside of the parliment building. Walking down the aisle was the President and an unfamiliar person to everyone but a select few. She was late thirties in age and yet managed to dress so provocatively and yet so conservitavely that she caught everyone's eyes and met their standards.
She wore an entire dress outfit, including tight gray skirt that hugged her knees and had no bounce or flair to it at all, a white blouse, buttoned up straight to the top and a gray jacket covering the blouse to pull the outfit together. She was carrying a briefcase at her side, as was the President. Following them were two distinctly different agencies. One was obviously the more familiar presidential bodyguard entourage. The others, well, they looked like paramilitary types. They were dressed the same as the presidential entourage, but had different colored jackets and pants and each, instead of concealing it, was carrying an automatic weapon in plain sight, placing it over their heart, safeties locked in place.
There was no wasting time. The President and the mysterious woman both opened up their briefcases and retrieved papers from within. A member of each's entourage pulled the chair out for them and then pushed it back in as they were seated. Each began to sign the forms in the same spots, their own names being supplied where appropriate. The entire nation watched in awe as their beloved president of 5 years was giving the nation away to someone that nobody had even heard of before. Even bums off the street were gathered around TV shops to watch this historic event.
With the application of the final signatures, the transfer was complete and both stood up while the senior member of parliment, and the head of that particular body, authorized both copies and finally produced one last paper. The other two signed it, in turn, the President first and the woman second, followed by the head's signature last. In a very polite display, as the head finished his signature. He placed the pen down and stood up, the other two rising with him and everyone in the room stood as well, politely applauding the peaceful exchange.
--
Just over an hour later, after the press corps had its field day with both Presidents, the woman was seated inside of her limo, car phone already in use and the driver stopped at a traffic light.
"I want the last traces of him erased from this country. I also want him dead. Your choice of how it goes, though unhappy citizen is the best bet for doing this without many questions."
She hung the phone up and rolled down the window to the front. Leaning forwards, she gave the driver a charming smile and made a simple request. The light turned green and the driver accelerated to go with traffic, but kept his ear open for what his boss had to say.
"Take me by my new home, driver. I want to see it for myself."
Nodding obediantly, the driver flips his turn signal and changes lanes, going in a new direction, headed towards the Presidential Palace.