The Rise of the Speaker

  Copyright © 2019 Pete Driscoll

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except in the case of brief quotations for the purposes of critical review. For information, address the publisher.

  The contents of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All artwork created by Fantasyskyart

  First Published in 2019

  Pete.driscoll.2204.2003@googlemail.com

  Acknowledgements

  No man is an island.

  This is a fact that creating this work has proved to me beyond any measurable doubt, from my children and better half supporting me from the moment I told them of my intention to write, to their pride and enthusiasm for this project as it progressed. So, Jordan, Keiran, Lili and Riley, not to mention the wonderful Dee; words escape me – the definition of irony for a writer – but to say I am profoundly grateful is an understatement of monumental proportions. I love you all more than I could ever hope to capture in words.

  Then there are the parents, we all have them and their support – in most cases – is almost assumed. Yet, my parents have always been the reasonable kind, quick to frown and give constructive criticism for the pie-in-the-sky ideas and the half-baked schemes we all have in our younger days. Neither of you batted an eyelid, you saw the potential, saw the passion and supported me 100%. Mops gave the final once-over to look for mistakes I had missed and gave invaluable feedback, and the Old Man provided the funding that allowed this dream to take off. None of this would have been possible without you.

  A special mention must be given to Joanne Fudge; a teacher who took time out of her relentless work and family schedule to read this book as it was being written. She was the first person to read this work without the obligation of positivity, some of the best features of this book only exist because of her. The enthusiasm she showed towards the story and how it was written gave me the motivation to share my story with the rest of the world, you are all reading this book because of her. I will never be able to thank her enough.

  Another mention must be given to the incredible talent of Grant at Fantasyskyart, the creator of all the artwork used in this book. I found him while looking for the phoenix symbol and instead of dismissing my inquiry, he put in a staggering amount of work, time and effort into creating the entire cover for this book. A thoroughly decent human being and an immensely talented artist, I recommend looking up his work by searching for Fantasyskyart photography on Facebook. You will not be disappointed.

  Finally, I would like to thank you, dear reader. The worlds that swirl around inside my head are wild and complex, intricate and varied; I am grateful to be able to share them with you and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

  Pete

  Chapter 1

  The last, best hope for humanity.

  There is a certain catharsis in memory; Long passed events filling the spectrum between heart lifting joy and soul crushing anguish, between overwhelming pride and abject despair, between light and dark. Yet, looking back, it was hard to miss the contradictions and hypocrisies of a life filled with memories and emotions that lay between the two extremes. Yes, there were achievements of earth-shattering magnitude and yes, the road I had taken had profoundly changed the world, but some of the steps on that road had been taken for less than noble reasons, some of those achievements had led to less than honourable actions and the best of intentions couldn’t offset the worst of my decisions. I had become one of the most powerful men to have ever lived; a lack of self-awareness was a luxury I could not afford, even if I was, seemingly, the only person able to see the flaws in paradise.

  Deep breath. Shoulders straight. Head high... Familiarity with the routine may not be enough to dismiss its inherent hypocrisy but the people need an ideal and my time-tested façade would have to suffice for the masses who looked to me for leadership.

  I walked at a steady pace out onto the dais, my strides graceful and confident – well rehearsed for a man in my position. The platform was raised fifteen feet above the massed throng of people and curved outward, almost into a semi-circle. In its centre was the podium; waist height, a single microphone aiming up at me as I approached, on its front was the flaming phoenix emblazed in white gold – the standard of our endeavour – facing out towards the crowd. And what a crowd it was; hundreds of thousands of them, stretching out further than the eye could see. Fifty-foot high screens, flanked either side of the stage, tracked my every movement so that those further away could see what they came here to see, more screens were placed amongst the crowd at regular intervals disappearing into the distance.

  “In the beginning, there was nothing.” I started as the crowd fell silent. “The empty void that lies somewhere before the spark of imagination; that is how our nation started. What is now one of the greatest countries on Earth started as a place to hide… a safe haven… a refuge, and if it wasn’t for the brilliance and hard work of a small few, that is how it might have stayed. This nation started as a simple idea, that idea grew into a concept, which in turn grew into a vision and that vision finally became an ideal; an ideal by which we not only measure our successes and failures, but one by which we measure ourselves.

  “My fellow countrymen…” My voice and posture grew, as confident and authoritative as my well cultivated reputation, booming from the huge speakers dotted throughout the National Mall. “…My friends. We are gathered here to celebrate the anniversary of our Nation’s founding. Twenty-five years ago - to this day - we took a single step… made a single choice… in the name of that single vision, and we did it together! A new world of freedom and justice… equality and opportunity… to cast aside greed and corruption, corrosive institutions, divisive superstitions and archaic ideologies of the lives we left behind. We each looked at the old world, the lives we had led, the powers that governed us and each came to the same conclusion: We… can… do… better!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the noise rippled off the white granite clad buildings that lined the fountain dotted park that ran between the National Senate and the Speakers Tower. Flags bearing the Phoenix flapped in the wind, hanging from lampposts, windows and banners dispersed throughout the crowd. A sea of colour moved and rippled as I raised my hands to quite the cheers.

  “We came from a world that placed wealth above welfare… a world that valued power more than its people… diversity over unity… religion over reality…. A world that would go to war for resources but not to defend the innocent… a world that would happily watch atrocities being committed as long as it didn’t affect the almighty dollar… A world without conscience. And together we decided: We… can… do… better!”

  I allowed the crowd a little more time with the reveries knowing that within that mass of faces were many eyes who had seen those atrocities and witnessed the world’s indifference firsthand. Again, I raised my hands.

  “We founded this Nation with the vision of providing a home for the last, best hope of humanity - the final bastion of honour, compassion and human dignity! And after 25 years, 250 Million citizens, more obstacles and conflicts than I can count, we have reached the top of the mountain!” This time I kept talking as the rapturous applause and deafening cheers from the crowd filled the air, my voice rising and my words quickened.

  “The first generation born into this great nation are just reaching adulthood and I am profoundly grateful that they will never know the pain of oppression, will never
feel desperation of poverty or the humiliation of injustice! Together, we will keep up the hard work to ensure that their children, and their children’s children and every other generation born long after we are gone, enjoys the fruits of our labour in a Nation free of the baser desires of the old world! That they look back through the long years between then and now and remember what we did here and marvel at our conviction, our courage and – most importantly – Our humanity!”

  The soldiers lining the walls at the back of the stage, along with those manning the barriers in front of the crowds, snapped to attention as nine of the air force’s newest fighters, in a perfect V formation, flew from behind me and over the crowd of the Mall. The timing was perfect. I didn’t skip a beat as the blue trails of smoke from the jets faded into the distance above the jubilant citizenry.

  “We are the light in the darkness, the beacon that guides humanity home, the shining city on the hill, the example to the rest of the world…

  We…

  are…

  ATLANTIA!”

  My arms outstretched, my head held high, the roar of the crowd crashed into the stage. Even after all this time, the adulation of the masses never ceased to take my breath away. “No matter how far we have come,” I continued after the applause had died down, “no matter how many achievements and successes our nation has enjoyed, the journey from where we are, to achieving that ideal is not complete, that road is long and we still have a long way to go. But each step on the journey is one we take together; so, as one nation, as one family, we will strive to complete the work that we have started and we will keep measuring ourselves by the ideal that Atlantia represents. We will pass the mantle to our children and they will pass it to theirs and we will keep working – for you and with you – to create a nation that we can be truly proud of.

  Thank you, and a Happy Founders day to you all.”

  I bowed, gave a few of the obligatory waves as the applause and cheers echoed around the mall and exited the stage as the enormous fireworks display lit up the darkening sky. The party would last long into the night for hundreds of thousands in the crowd and millions more watching at home and I was happy with that; this wasn’t my celebration, it was theirs.

  I weaved through the few dozen or so people in the backstage area, shaking hands and exchanging holiday greetings, ‘and a happy Founder’s Day to you also, Senator’ et cetera. There were the typical ‘amazing speech, Mr Speaker’ yes men that hounded every political leader – nodding dogs. But mostly, I mingled; Socialising and the tediousies of small talk had never been my strong suit but it came with the territory and was expected of me during these sorts of events. There was one person here, however, who had come with a purpose - a Journalist – and I couldn’t decide if I was excited or apprehensive to meet her. The request had come through the State Department a few weeks ago: an all access, no holds barred, deep dive biography to coincide with the anniversary of Atlantia’s founding. My advisors in the council had decided it was a good idea and I had reluctantly gone along with it. Maybe it was an inside joke to schedule the meeting with the journalist at a time when I was already outside of my comfort zone - and so the meeting was set for tonight.

  “Mr Speaker?” a small voice accompanied a light tap of my shoulder – ah, speak of the devil.

  “You must be Penny” I smiled as I held out my hand, she took it nervously and shook it as I looked the young journalist up and down. Penny Monroe was the very definition of ‘Small’, barely looking like she belonged out of high school; her short cropped dirty blonde hair framed a small face with keen brown eyes, a small nose propped up wide rim glasses and a nervous smile softening her otherwise serious and professional look. It was amazing to think that this woman, who looked to still be in her teens, was one of the most respected investigative journalists in the country, maybe even the world. Her brilliance and insight had won her every accolade there was.

  Put it this way: if this woman wrote an expose on corruption, or broke a story on war crimes or human rights violations, the whole world took notice – Including me.

  “It’s an honour to meet you, Sir” she smiled back at me, almost adding a bow.

  “Oh, please, you can cut that ‘Sir’ crap out right off the bat, I can’t abide being called ‘sir’. And ‘Speaker’ is a title, not a name. Please, call me Marcus.” I said with a smile, formalities and platitudes had never sat well with me and tonight was no different. I couldn’t help but notice we were still shaking hands; no matter how many years I had been doing this, I could never quite get the hang of when an appropriate amount of time had passed to let go, I usually waited for the other person to break away but Penny didn’t seem to be pressing the issue. I wondered how long it would be before it became awkward but kept smiling warmly. “And the honour is mine,” I continued, “I am a great admirer of your work.”

  “And I of yours, Sir… I mean Marcus” she corrected herself quickly, returning my smile and finally letting go of my hand. “and I must say, your reputation for plain talking and aversion to pomp is well deserved” I flashed my eyebrows with a small laugh, I liked this woman already. We made our way over to the bar through the small crowd of special guests and each reached for a glass of complimentary champagne. “So… err… if it’s ok with you, I just wanted to briefly outline what I’m here for and how this is going to work.”

  I nodded for her to continue.

  “The State Department has given me complete access to you: every meeting, every decision, every everything. I go where you go. In short: I am your new shadow for the next few weeks.” I nodded again, I already knew all of this, but more importantly, she knew that I knew all of this. She just wanted to see how I would react. Clever girl. “I guess that brings me onto my first question. You are somewhat famous for your privacy, nobody really knows a lot about you on a personal level, so what made you agree to this?”

  “Well… would you be offended if I said it was not my idea?” I smirked. It was her turn to laugh and she nodded at the obviousness of my situation. “Look Penny, you have your own reputation and if it is to be believed, there isn’t much information you aren’t perfectly capable of digging up for yourself. So, let me ask you a question: what exactly are you looking for in all of this?”

  “The short answer?” she replied after a pause to consider her answer, “I want the story of the Speaker in his own words, all of it, where it all began, your early years, the founding of Atlantia, all the big decision that have taken place over the past twenty-five years and beyond… how did we get where we are today? We will be spending an hour or so – or whatever you can spare – everyday, just talking. This is your opportunity to tell you side of history.”

  I paused for a bit with a small grin on my face. “my side of history, eh?” I said, calling out her clumsy attempt at flattery

  “Worth a shot” she quipped back, an equally playful smile lighting up her features. “So, when would you like to start?”

  “Well, nothing much will be happening tomorrow, it being the holidays and all, why don’t you come up the tower in the morning and we can get started.”

  “Wow… the tower… um, Not a problem Mr… dammit… Marcus. I’ll see you in the morning” and with that – and after a slightly flustered handshake - she left, the whole meeting had lasted less than five minutes, I still wasn’t sure how to feel about my personal life and a turbulent history being laid out before the world but I had already agreed which meant the matter was settled.

  A man is only as good as his word.

  Penny’s reaction to her invitation to the Tower wasn’t particularly uncommon. Like the White House, Downing Street or Buckingham Palace, the Speaker’s Tower was a centre of government that most people had never seen the inside of, and fewer still had seen the more intimate and personal residential areas. Being invited to the tower was – as with most other seats of power throughout the world – considered something of an honour.

  The tower itself was huge: Almost one hundred
stories tall and perfectly round it stood as a monolith of white buttresses and polished glass at the Northern end of the National Mall. The tower itself was at the exact centre of the city of Atlantia, which was itself in the exact centre of the nation of Atlantia. A capitol city bearing the same name as the Nation it’s in was not the most original idea for a name, but there it was. Someone had once suggested ‘The Imperial City’ as a name, it had been rejected outright though – there was nothing imperial about Atlantia - but the name was just reverent enough to stick and so ‘The Imperial City’ had become the Capitol’s nickname in the same way as New York’s Big Apple.

  The geographical positioning wasn’t an accident either. When the city was laid down it had been designated as the seat of government. Some philosopher had said that a leader is at the heart – or the centre – of a nation and so in a custom designed nation, the Capitol should be at the heart – or the centre – of the country.

  The Speaker’s personal apartments were on three of the top five floors of the building, the lowest of which including a full 360-degree balcony for looking out over the city. The rest of the tower was made up of offices and meeting rooms and all the other facilities needed to facilitate the running of the Atlantian government – Imagine all of the apparatus of the US federal government: The state department, the treasury, the Pentagon, even the DMV, all packed into a single structure. The only departments that weren’t totally contained inside the tower were primarily based around law enforcement. This building was the centre of the Atlantian Executive branch of government.

  As with other seats of power, the Speaker had his own office for matters of a more formal nature – the White House had the oval office, the Tower had the Bastion. A round room that took up almost the entire top floor of the building with small recesses for the elevator, bathroom and security. It was the only point in the city that matched the residence’s balcony for the sheer magnificence of the views. Despite huge banks of Glass at each of the four compass points – north, south, east and west - it was the most secure location on Earth, even outdoing the other major seats of world powers – the technological advancements that had led to Atlantia’s rise in the world standings had been combined to achieve a dizzying display of security.