View Full Version : My current, political story

03-09-04, 11:47 PM
The private individual was conveyed by a chartered jet to a private landing strip twenty miles northwest of Demounte, the Island’s capital city. Although the person was the only passenger on the entire aircraft, no one spoke to him except to make certain of his immediate needs. No one knew his name. All they knew was that this was clearly an extremely important passenger. The flight’s arrival appeared on no aviation logs anywhere, military or civilian. The chartered jet landed at nine-thirty in the evening, as scheduled. None of the jet’s staff watched him depart the plane with his bags in hand.

Two unmarked limos were waiting for the nameless passenger at the private landing strip. The private individual walked to one and loaded his luggage in the trunk of the vehicle. Then he went to the other, opened his own door and climbed in. As he departed the landing trip, so did the private jet. He and his luggage were transported to downtown Demounte. At his own request, he asked the Driver to be dropped off across the street of the Conorvilla Hotel, and his baggage to be brought to him later. The Driver obliged and pulled up to the curb across the street of the Hotel. The passenger thanked the driver and stepped out into the city and closed the door. The limo abruptly left. He wore an unimpressive gray suit with a pair of tasseled cordovan loafers that had been scuffed and shined a few too many times, and looked like one of a thousand midlevel lobbyists and bureaucrats, the faceless, colorless staffers of a permanent Demounte.

No one gave him a second look as he stood there on the sidewalk, glancing up at the magnificent structure before him. The Conorvilla hotel was the flagship for all the hotels in the downtown area. Guests of extreme importance from other corners of the Isle or Mainland paid good money to stay in one of the Hotels luxury sweets. He did not think of himself to be that important, but his lifestyle called for such luxuries. So he walked across the street, avoiding traffic and walked up a flight of stairs, greeted by an old doorman in uniform who bid him a, “good evening Sir.” He just nodded and stepped through the opened doorway into a large extravagant lobby, with statues, a fountain, chandelier lighting, rich furniture and such. It was relatively quiet in the lobby. He walked across the room to the front check-in desk, to which there was a young brunette waiting to take his service. “Hello and welcome to the Conorvilla Inn Sir. Checking in or checking out?” She asked.

“Checking in.” He answered.

The Lady began to type something on her keyboard and soon a form appeared on her keyboard screen. She began with the procedural questions. “How many nights do you wish to stay?”

“Just this evening. So one.” He answered.

She began to type, then asked the next question down. “All right, would you like a complementary sweet, a business-class room, or an economy class room?” She asked.
“I’m to check into the W1-business-class room. I’m with the Hanigan party.” He spoke clearly. The W1 was a private business-class sweet on the 20th floor, just above the complementary sweets, with multiple bedrooms, a small kitchen and bar, a conference room and spacious lounge. He produced a document from his pants’ pocket and unfolded it and handed it over the Lady. She retrieved it and looked it over and nodded. “Thank you Mr. Thomas. Let me get you a key to the room.” She moved from her spot and into a tiny back room with all the keys to all the rooms in it. She came back out with one in particular. “Here you are, do have a good stay.” She insisted.

“I shall, thank you for your service.” He said and proceeded toward the elevators. He came to the elevators and pressed the button on the wall, calling for one. A minute later, one came down and its doors opened. A man was in the elevator, dressed much like the doorman. He acknowledged Mr. Thomas. “Good evening Sir, which floor may I take you to?” He asked.

“The twentieth floor please.” He said as he walked to the back of the elevator and starred straight ahead.

“Yes sir. Twentieth floor.” He pressed the 20th floor button and soon the elevator’s doors closed and they began to climb the levels. The elevator stopped only once on floor six, then stopped on his floor. “Twentieth door sir. Have a good evening.” Spoke the elevator man. Mr. Thomas nodded and stepped out onto the floor’s hallway and turned a left and proceeded down the hallway. On his right was a wonderful view of Demounte. On his left he passed several locked doors to other’s rooms. At the end of the hallway was his room. He walked up to the door took his key and slid it through the key checker and the light turned green. He opened the door just wide enough to slip inside and closed the door behind him. All eyes in the lounge turned onto him. His face turned red and gave a small wave to everyone.

A man much older than he, who looked like and dressed more like a professor, was the first to rise from his seat and great the new visitor. “Ah Miguel, so glad you could make it. I hope you had a good flight in.” He had a smile on his face.

“Thank you Mr. Prime Minister, I had just a splendid flight. I am honored to be here to take part in this Key Three Meeting.” He smiled as he glanced around the room, at each of the several men and women who occupied the lounge.

“Miguel, I’d like to introduce to you to the customary members of the Key Three Meeting. There is myself, there is President [last name], my Chief of Staff [last name], [name]’s Chief of Staff [last name], and the Chancellor of the Public Council, [last name].” Miguel walked to each of the members and shook their hands. He walked to the final member, a middle-aged woman. “This is the Secretary of the Isle, [last name], who sets the meetings’ agenda and keeps notes.” The Prime Minister spoke, smiling at the woman. He then put a grip on Miguels’ shoulder. “Everyone, this is Miguel Thomas, an old friend of mine and a Political consultant from Ugwanda’s Island Chain Division of Commissioners. I invited him here to help us with our [issue].” He looked at Miguel and Miguel nodded.

“Thank you for the introduction.” Miguel said and then seated himself next to [name] on one of the two couches in the lounge. “From what I understand, …”

[Name] shook his head in disgust. “Sir, allow me to speak freely?” The President nodded to his Chief of Staff. “Thank you” He then turned his eyes to Miguel. "

03-09-04, 11:48 PM
it where it says issue, I need ideas....i'd be most thankful and pleasued to hear what people have in mind for my story.