Post by kayqt on Dec 17, 2014 10:30:28 GMT
This is my response to the Alice challenge - it didn't evolve quite the way I expected but ...
'I worked in business for twenty years, thank you so very much!' said Will Ermington, Minister for Clean Air.
Benjamin Lloyd-Harper, Business and Industry Secretary, snorted. 'You were an absentee director in the family business.'
Ermington turned a shade of magenta. 'I pushed through many policies and implemented scores of structural changes …'
'He even talks of business like a politician!' laughed Lloyd-Harper.
An elderly gentleman at the end of the table roused himself from his nap and cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him expectantly.
'Horseradish poultice, that's what we need,' he said, before nodding off again.
This was greeted with puzzled silence.
'Well, excellent. We'll certainly make a note of that,' murmured the Prime Minister, tapping his pen on the table. 'But perhaps we could get back to the point …'
'My family's business has been thriving for some seventy five years, providing valuable jobs and revenue …'
'Revenue for your family you mean!' chortled Ivan Powell, Social Justice Minister.
Ermington glared at him.
'If we could get back to the issue at hand …' pleaded the Prime Minister.
But Ermington had the bit firmly between his teeth now and was rising from his chair, magenta turning deep purple. 'I will remind you that my family founded the Foundation of Cavendish Pensioners!'
Lloyd-Harper let out a bark of laughter. 'And who are the Cavendish Pensioners?'
'They are respectable hard-working people who deserve a peaceful retirement …'
'And how many are there? I'll tell you how many: six. And they are all titled. And they are all close associates of your family,' sneered Lloyd-Harper.
Ermington's mouth flapped.
'Quite right, Ben,' said Carlton Leach, Housing Minister. 'It's just an old boy's club.'
'Now, see here …'
The prime minister slumped in his chair. Sometimes he felt like he was the only person in the cabinet. He gazed around the table at his chosen men and token woman and shook his head. What had happened to them? When he had selected them they had shown so much promise. Within weeks of taking office they had descended into a bunch of quarrelling idiots.
The meeting closed forty minutes later with none of the issues discussed and no strategies agreed. The prime minister sat at the desk in his office and stared blankly at the opposite wall. His wife slipped into the room with a cup of tea. She set it in front of him and waved a hand in front of his face.
'Phillip? Are you there? Come in Phillip,' she teased.
His eyes slowly turned to her and he smiled wearily. 'Hello dear.'
'Did you get agreement on the housing strategy?'
He sighed. 'Not exactly.'
'Oh. The policy changes for care home funding?'
'No.'
'School inspections?'
He dropped his head into his hands. 'We didn't actually discuss any of it.'
'What?'
He looked up at her, his eyes wild. 'They're all quite mad, Sophia. They behave like children. It's impossible to deal with the real business of government because they're so busy squabbling.'
His wife smiled and rubbed his shoulder. 'That's politics, dear.'
The Prime Minister watched as she left the room. She was right, of course. Politics had always attracted such behaviour, by its very nature it was about arguing, but he was an idealist. Arguing should lead to discussion, agreement, resolution. Perhaps the only way to achieve a humane government would be to get rid of the humans.
He smiled a slow and rather worrying smile. What a thought. Remove the humans, put in place a computer, the ultimate logic machine, and suddenly you would have effective government. Of course, it could never be done. Could it?
'We are pleased to announce that the budget deficit will be eliminated entirely by the second quarter of 2016,' said the Chancellor to a packed house.
The Prime Minister nodded his approval as the house erupted with cheers on one side and jeers on the other. The speaker called for order and signalled for the Chancellor to continue.
'This will be achieved through a return to old fashioned fiscal prudence. This country simply cannot go on spending more money than it has, and that is why, starting in December, there will be no more free libraries, dental care, unemployment benefit or assisted living allowance.'
MPs on the both sides of the house leapt from the benches, arms waving, shouting, staring at the speaker in dramatic bewilderment. The Prime Minister and his cabinet remained impassive, waiting for order to be restored.
'This house will come to order!' bellowed the speaker. 'The Chancellor will speak.'
'Thank you, Mr Speaker,' said the Chancellor calmly. 'Budgets for all major departments will be cut to 1970 levels in order to reduce the burden on the tax payer, and I am pleased to announce a dramatic restructuring of the NHS which will see sixty percent of hospitals closed, and the remaining facilities amalgamated into large super hospitals which will offer care to a much larger catchment, thereby drastically cutting the spiralling costs of providing health care to the population.'
Once more, the house erupted. The speaker spent thirteen minutes shouting for order but at last had to concede defeat. Security was called and the house cleared.
The Prime Minister whistled cheerfully as he strolled back to his office. It was true he had been forced to make some difficult decisions, perhaps even unpleasant ones, but there was no denying the results. The deficit would be cleared in 2016 and if forecasts were correct, and he had no reason to suppose they would not be, the country would have a healthy profit by the end of 2017.
Yes, there would be unrest. People would complain, obviously. They had been mollycoddled for so long. It would be hard for them at first, but people had to learn to take care of themselves. It was a nonsense to expect the state to keep them.
The Prime Minister studied the report. Crime levels in all categories were up exponentially. Protests and riots had run out of control as the diminished police force had struggled to cope. The super hospitals were failing spectacularly to deal with the deteriorating health of their wider catchments, and health staff were leaving in droves for sunnier and more rewarding climes overseas. It was, in short, a disaster.
The plans so carefully conceived by the cabinet had suffered a fatal flaw, and that was, to his astonishment, its utter lack of humanity. Cold logic worked in binary, in ASCII, in the bits and bites of machine code, but people, it transpired, were altogether more complex.
He opened his computer and accessed the cabinet programme. He studied it for some time before reaching his decision. With a very determined stab, he clicked 'Terminate Programme.' A small window appeared. 'You have selected Terminate Programme. This could result in unexpected consequences and possible destruction of vital infrastructure. Do you wish to continue?' He scowled at the screen and clicked 'Yes'. The window disappeared and the screen greyed out as the computer ran through the processes. At last, the programme shut down. He sighed. What a relief. And now it was time to restore the old order.
He jumped from his desk and hurried to the Chancellor's study. He found him asleep at his desk. Smiling he slipped around the back of his chair and removed something from behind the man's ear. The Chancellor woke slowly, blinking and stretching, until he saw the Prime Minister standing beside him. Shocked he leapt to his feet and smoothed his hair.
'So sorry, must have dropped off. Been working on the budget statement all night. I have some ideas I'd like to discuss. I think I may have found a way to cut departmental spending …'
'See me later,' said the Prime Minister as he hurried from the room. 'I have an entire cabinet that needs waking up.'
The Chancellor frowned at the strange turn of phrase, then shrugged and started up his computer. He stared at it for a full five minutes before he started shouting.
The Prime Minister settled down for the night and allowed himself a contented smile. It had become very noisy very fast once he had restored the entire cabinet. He had certainly faced some difficult questions, particularly when the Minister of Clean Air had failed to fully reawaken, but that was explained by a breakdown brought on by the stress of his position. He was whisked away to the Foundation of Cavendish Pensioners and a promising young backbencher was speedily promoted in his stead.
He was forced to acknowledge that the experiment had failed. Controlling a cabinet by computer had caused undesirable issues and it would take some time to repair the damage done. But, he mused as he drifted off to sleep, in other ways it worked exceptionally well. The cabinet ministers had all worked with extreme efficiency for the first time in their lives and there had not been a hint of an argument throughout the duration. Perhaps with a few tweaks ...
'I worked in business for twenty years, thank you so very much!' said Will Ermington, Minister for Clean Air.
Benjamin Lloyd-Harper, Business and Industry Secretary, snorted. 'You were an absentee director in the family business.'
Ermington turned a shade of magenta. 'I pushed through many policies and implemented scores of structural changes …'
'He even talks of business like a politician!' laughed Lloyd-Harper.
An elderly gentleman at the end of the table roused himself from his nap and cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him expectantly.
'Horseradish poultice, that's what we need,' he said, before nodding off again.
This was greeted with puzzled silence.
'Well, excellent. We'll certainly make a note of that,' murmured the Prime Minister, tapping his pen on the table. 'But perhaps we could get back to the point …'
'My family's business has been thriving for some seventy five years, providing valuable jobs and revenue …'
'Revenue for your family you mean!' chortled Ivan Powell, Social Justice Minister.
Ermington glared at him.
'If we could get back to the issue at hand …' pleaded the Prime Minister.
But Ermington had the bit firmly between his teeth now and was rising from his chair, magenta turning deep purple. 'I will remind you that my family founded the Foundation of Cavendish Pensioners!'
Lloyd-Harper let out a bark of laughter. 'And who are the Cavendish Pensioners?'
'They are respectable hard-working people who deserve a peaceful retirement …'
'And how many are there? I'll tell you how many: six. And they are all titled. And they are all close associates of your family,' sneered Lloyd-Harper.
Ermington's mouth flapped.
'Quite right, Ben,' said Carlton Leach, Housing Minister. 'It's just an old boy's club.'
'Now, see here …'
The prime minister slumped in his chair. Sometimes he felt like he was the only person in the cabinet. He gazed around the table at his chosen men and token woman and shook his head. What had happened to them? When he had selected them they had shown so much promise. Within weeks of taking office they had descended into a bunch of quarrelling idiots.
The meeting closed forty minutes later with none of the issues discussed and no strategies agreed. The prime minister sat at the desk in his office and stared blankly at the opposite wall. His wife slipped into the room with a cup of tea. She set it in front of him and waved a hand in front of his face.
'Phillip? Are you there? Come in Phillip,' she teased.
His eyes slowly turned to her and he smiled wearily. 'Hello dear.'
'Did you get agreement on the housing strategy?'
He sighed. 'Not exactly.'
'Oh. The policy changes for care home funding?'
'No.'
'School inspections?'
He dropped his head into his hands. 'We didn't actually discuss any of it.'
'What?'
He looked up at her, his eyes wild. 'They're all quite mad, Sophia. They behave like children. It's impossible to deal with the real business of government because they're so busy squabbling.'
His wife smiled and rubbed his shoulder. 'That's politics, dear.'
The Prime Minister watched as she left the room. She was right, of course. Politics had always attracted such behaviour, by its very nature it was about arguing, but he was an idealist. Arguing should lead to discussion, agreement, resolution. Perhaps the only way to achieve a humane government would be to get rid of the humans.
He smiled a slow and rather worrying smile. What a thought. Remove the humans, put in place a computer, the ultimate logic machine, and suddenly you would have effective government. Of course, it could never be done. Could it?
'We are pleased to announce that the budget deficit will be eliminated entirely by the second quarter of 2016,' said the Chancellor to a packed house.
The Prime Minister nodded his approval as the house erupted with cheers on one side and jeers on the other. The speaker called for order and signalled for the Chancellor to continue.
'This will be achieved through a return to old fashioned fiscal prudence. This country simply cannot go on spending more money than it has, and that is why, starting in December, there will be no more free libraries, dental care, unemployment benefit or assisted living allowance.'
MPs on the both sides of the house leapt from the benches, arms waving, shouting, staring at the speaker in dramatic bewilderment. The Prime Minister and his cabinet remained impassive, waiting for order to be restored.
'This house will come to order!' bellowed the speaker. 'The Chancellor will speak.'
'Thank you, Mr Speaker,' said the Chancellor calmly. 'Budgets for all major departments will be cut to 1970 levels in order to reduce the burden on the tax payer, and I am pleased to announce a dramatic restructuring of the NHS which will see sixty percent of hospitals closed, and the remaining facilities amalgamated into large super hospitals which will offer care to a much larger catchment, thereby drastically cutting the spiralling costs of providing health care to the population.'
Once more, the house erupted. The speaker spent thirteen minutes shouting for order but at last had to concede defeat. Security was called and the house cleared.
The Prime Minister whistled cheerfully as he strolled back to his office. It was true he had been forced to make some difficult decisions, perhaps even unpleasant ones, but there was no denying the results. The deficit would be cleared in 2016 and if forecasts were correct, and he had no reason to suppose they would not be, the country would have a healthy profit by the end of 2017.
Yes, there would be unrest. People would complain, obviously. They had been mollycoddled for so long. It would be hard for them at first, but people had to learn to take care of themselves. It was a nonsense to expect the state to keep them.
The Prime Minister studied the report. Crime levels in all categories were up exponentially. Protests and riots had run out of control as the diminished police force had struggled to cope. The super hospitals were failing spectacularly to deal with the deteriorating health of their wider catchments, and health staff were leaving in droves for sunnier and more rewarding climes overseas. It was, in short, a disaster.
The plans so carefully conceived by the cabinet had suffered a fatal flaw, and that was, to his astonishment, its utter lack of humanity. Cold logic worked in binary, in ASCII, in the bits and bites of machine code, but people, it transpired, were altogether more complex.
He opened his computer and accessed the cabinet programme. He studied it for some time before reaching his decision. With a very determined stab, he clicked 'Terminate Programme.' A small window appeared. 'You have selected Terminate Programme. This could result in unexpected consequences and possible destruction of vital infrastructure. Do you wish to continue?' He scowled at the screen and clicked 'Yes'. The window disappeared and the screen greyed out as the computer ran through the processes. At last, the programme shut down. He sighed. What a relief. And now it was time to restore the old order.
He jumped from his desk and hurried to the Chancellor's study. He found him asleep at his desk. Smiling he slipped around the back of his chair and removed something from behind the man's ear. The Chancellor woke slowly, blinking and stretching, until he saw the Prime Minister standing beside him. Shocked he leapt to his feet and smoothed his hair.
'So sorry, must have dropped off. Been working on the budget statement all night. I have some ideas I'd like to discuss. I think I may have found a way to cut departmental spending …'
'See me later,' said the Prime Minister as he hurried from the room. 'I have an entire cabinet that needs waking up.'
The Chancellor frowned at the strange turn of phrase, then shrugged and started up his computer. He stared at it for a full five minutes before he started shouting.
The Prime Minister settled down for the night and allowed himself a contented smile. It had become very noisy very fast once he had restored the entire cabinet. He had certainly faced some difficult questions, particularly when the Minister of Clean Air had failed to fully reawaken, but that was explained by a breakdown brought on by the stress of his position. He was whisked away to the Foundation of Cavendish Pensioners and a promising young backbencher was speedily promoted in his stead.
He was forced to acknowledge that the experiment had failed. Controlling a cabinet by computer had caused undesirable issues and it would take some time to repair the damage done. But, he mused as he drifted off to sleep, in other ways it worked exceptionally well. The cabinet ministers had all worked with extreme efficiency for the first time in their lives and there had not been a hint of an argument throughout the duration. Perhaps with a few tweaks ...
