We always seem to choose the wrong leaders. I think that is because we are tribal. We choose leaders like we did when we were small tribal units. We like strong leaders who are binary and decisive – everything is black and white. The trouble is that reality is not like that; reality is nuanced, it requires complex solutions to problems. Our ‘strong’ leaders end up as vicious dictators or self-serving greed-merchants. The system does not promote caring, compassionate people; it promotes narcissists, psychopaths and sociopaths who are in it for themselves. It creates division, hatred and wars. I wanted to explore a different approach in this Sci-fi novel. What if anybody who wanted to be leader was automatically excluded and the choice of leader was made on ability?:
Chapter 15 – Trust, Faith and Conspiracy
Running an administration is never easy at the best of times. Running a new global administration where there were no protocols and nobody knew each other or what they were doing was proving nigh on impossible. Even with the direction and assistance of the aliens coupled with the mighty resources of the Neff the task was immense. People had to sort out their roles and get a grip on their responsibilities. Ron was being run ragged.
There weren’t enough minutes in the day. He didn’t have time to think. His diary was a locomotive running down a mountainside with no brakes. All he could do was hold on tight. The morning started with a series of Teams meetings with the ministers working in the key sectors.
Mikhail Alexandra was running education. A lively, energetic individual who seemed to think education was the key to the universe. That was fortunate because that is what Ron also felt. He knew that if a society could unleash the creative power of youth and harness its energy and ideas then that society was going to prosper. Mikhail felt the same. He was putting together an explosive curriculum full of investigation, questioning, experiment and discussion. In Mikhail’s view rote learning was equivalent to the decay of the brain.
Mikhail was deliriously happy. The demise of the military, with its massive budget, meant a dividend for everything else and education was a Federation priority. From primary to tertiary the sector was expanding.
‘I am hiring staff,’ Mikhail chortled. ‘I am sacking staff.’
Ron looked bemused.
‘I don’t want lumps of meat in front of kids. I don’t want death by boredom. I want dynamism, energy, creativity. I want life.’
‘Are they out there?’
‘They’re out there,’ Mikhail was supremely confident. ‘We just have to find them. Fortunately we now have the money to attract the very best. It’s brilliant! You should ee the new facilities and equipment. There’s a revolution.’
After thirty minutes tracking through Mikhail’s dynamic views on education Ron was ready for a sleep. The sheer enthusiasm of the man was exhausting.
There was no such thing as down time. No sooner had the screen cleared of Mikhail’s animated face that Apsara Amarin’s image popped up. Apsara had the portfolio of Peace. It used to be the Department of War but war had been banished.
Apsara was a different can of worms. Whereas Mikhail could not possibly sit still for more than two seconds, Apsara was quiet and thoughtful. Her brief was the complete disbandment of all military units and the destruction of all military hardware. She’d set about this in the most logical manner as she was about to share with Ron.
He listened for half an hour without managing to get a word in. Apsara had it all sewn up. From the demobbing of millions of servicemen and women right across the entire world, the melting down of weapons, to the decommissioning of nuclear warheads and battleships Aspara had drawn up a programme and initiated a schedule. Grrndakegra was helping to implement the programme. Giforians were assisting in taking over all military bases and enabling the decommissioning. The Giforians and Drefs had already taken over from the beginning and Grrndakegra seemed happy for Aspara to take over. For once the Giforian Commander was not being obstructive – perhaps because their aims were convergent?
Aspara led him through a detailed diary of events scheduling the complete annihilation of all military resources right across the planet. It was so detailed and thorough that he nearly dropped off to sleep during Aspara’s presentation.
By the end he was no clearer on exactly what was going to happen but was left with an understanding that Aspara had it all in hand. All aspects of the military were booked for their demise. She was systematically taking it apart and redistributing the wealth. Chameakegra assured him that Aspara knew what she was doing.
Ron was left with no doubt that the Department of Peace was in good hands.
No sooner had he finished one on-line meeting than another was stacking up demanding attention. Ron was even grabbing coffee and sandwiches on the fly.
Next up was the solemn idealistic intonations of Camila Soto. She had a hopefully temporary, but none-the-less highly important, role of managing Rehabilitation. Her job description covered the detainment camps, facilities on the moon and the psychiatric services necessary to complete rehabilitation. She was supposed to be liaising with Commander Grrndakegra although that had been proving difficult. Early on she had petitioned for Ron to intervene so that she could begin to inspect the installations. Ron and Chameakegra had given her their OKs but Grrndakegra had always come up with reasons why her inspections could not take place. There were last minute cancellations and unexpected events that disrupted their arrangements. She’d had to be content with a series of reports and was finding it all extremely frustrating.
Camilla was a real live wire who had already started making waves. She’d more or less forced her way in, commandeering a shuttle to carry out unofficial reconnaissance. After an extensive tour of the camps and lunar facilities she was incandescent. The camps were appalling and the lunar facilities would be great if they were ever completed. Her biggest concern was the lack of trained staff to carry out the role of ‘curing’ the excised. She wanted it done overnight and demanded that Ron use his muscle to sort it out. Perhaps the Federation come provide more expertise? In her opinion what Chameakegra and Judge Booghramakegra had sorted was simply not good enough. She commanded Ron to put pressure on to complete the facilities and empty the camps before it all melted down in one unholy explosion?
He assured Camilla that he would do his best and made a note to bring it up with Chameakegra at their next meeting. By the time he had finished their session he felt as if he had been run over by a careering bull.
Yu Chen Zhang, the energy chief, was a complete contrast. Where Camilla was sceptical and demanding, Yu was quiet, analytical and completely blown away by the wonderful new technologies the Federation was offering. According to Yu we could forget about fossil fuels, solar, wind, nuclear fission and even nuclear fusion, the future lay in some weird quantum force that provided unlimited energy with zero pollution and hardly any cost. Yu was ecstatic, at least in the restrained manner that a physicist displayed enthusiasm. What the Federation had already shared was blowing apart the whole world of physics. Yu could not have been happier. His main task was where to place the new energy plants and how to distribute the energy. He’d been working with a bunch of Xercs to sort it out and the speed they were going at was astounding him. Ron couldn’t have met a happier individual. For Zhang this was manna from the heavens.
Yu proceeded to enthusiastically, in an intense manner, explain just how the new energy producing plants were going to operate. That went straight over Ron’s head. All he needed to know was when it would be on tap.
By the end of that one he felt that his brain was on overload fit to burst.
Mia Jones had a difficult brief. The world was operating on a global scale but that didn’t obviate the need for local governance. The local circumstances had to be addressed. Local customs had to be catered for.
In many ways Mia’s role was the most important. The loss of sovereignty was the punctured fusion pile that had blown up for a lot of people. Mia had to find a way of marrying local needs and customs to that of the global perspective. In many ways the success of the whole project rested in her hands.
This quiet, shy woman was seeking to pull the rug from under the feet of the populists. If she could not find a way of appeasing local cultural concerns and marrying them to a global perspective the dissent would grow. They all knew that.
By the time the detailed proposals were gone through Ron was left gagging for oxygen. But it still wasn’t over.
Arjan Singh, heading the environmental department, was still to come to complete his morning review. The passionate, knowledgeable young man certainly knew his stuff. From conservation to the recreation of habitat and control of pollution, Arjan had his finger on the pulse. From the vastness of the Brazilian rainforest to the pond in the back yard of John Simmons, Arjan knew exactly what was needed to create diversity and encourage nature back to life.
By the time Arjan’s lively tones had died away it was lunchtime and Ron was ready for a quick nap. No such luck. A quick sandwich washed down with a strong coffee was the rushed order as the afternoon promised more of the same.
As Ron sat in his office munching his sandwich and thinking about the morning he realised that his cynicism was fading. The Federation was living up to its promise. Things were getting done on a monumental scale. He had utmost respect and support for the people carrying out the programme. But would it deliver quickly enough? The thing that worried him most was how much time did they have? Chameakegra was delivering everything she had promised but would the populace wait? He could sense the unrest building. Setting things in motion was one thing; preventing the suppressed emotions of the world’s population from erupting was something else again – and that buck also stopped at his door.