While in certain corners of the empire the number of beggars at times exceeds the total of available good samaritans, we see our suspects gathered in the inner circles of power abuse and despising the people affected by their criminally insane politics of destruction, people you leave behind to starve – go find a church. There's Mariano and Cristo and Soraya and La Cospe, comfortably seated round some dead animal skin carpet with the lesser gods on second row benches. All are looking sunny and pleased with themselves.
How they're doing on the money front, Mariano wants to know. Cristo quotes Emilio who alleged money was flowing in big time.
“Really?” says Mariano. “I thought we had fucked up the economy sufficiently by now.”
“We have,” admits Cristo, “that's why our business partners are getting interested. With the people unable to spend, the local shops are on their knees. The Americans are very happy.”
“What do they have to say about Catalunya,” La Cospe asks.
“What about?”
“Can we just put an end to the show and bring in the army, if necessary?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Does that surprise you, María,” informs Soraya.
María throws her a chilly stare. Soraya has been pushing La Cospe to the sidelines ever since she took up the vice-presidency and quickly established herself as the leading female voice in the party.
“We have most projects running then,” resumes Mariano. “Further budget cuts and lower wages to destroy people's livelihoods, indoctrination and heavy police actions to make 'em feel who run the show.” He cuts himself short. “Who wanted that?”
“Alberto. He claims you have to make the people scared and poor at the same time, fuck 'em up good.”
“I guess Alberto knows. He has fans.”
“Not anymore. His fans are not his fans any longer.”
“Well, who can blame them,” smiles Soraya.
“As long as there's resistance you have to push harder,” announces La Cospe rather boldly.
Mariano gives her his characteristic incredilous look, then turns to Cristo.
“Any comments?”
“The police are well-instructed, says Jorge.”
“That's under control, then.”
Mariano pulls out a cigar from his pocket. Soraya is the first to offer light.
“A present from our friend who went to Cuba.”
He waits till the flame has burned the full round, then takes a long drag and lets the smoke escape from the corners of his mouth.
“If I remember well, there was a third topic to cover.”
“Do you mean our new fracking project?”
“Of course, fracking. Help me out here for a moment.”
“A natural gas extracting technique which uses high loads of extremely toxic chemicals.”
“The usual minorities go about protesting the sites.”
“Previous experiences suggest the soil above should be unfit for agriculture within ten years.”
“Which will do with the remains of the rural economy.”
Cristo, who is used to bringing the smartest head to the table, is having trouble lately matching Soraya's lightning quick responses.
“Although GM crops will proof resistant.”
“I should think so! They have profit embedded in their patent.”
General laughter, also from the backbench, Cristo sending Soraya a hot smile. Mariano produces a perfect smoke ring from small, wet lips.
“Good work, people, the demise of the Spanish people is picking up speed. As Cristo mentioned, the Americans will be pleased with our efforts.”
“Neighbours will soon start dying in alarming numbers.”
“And where is it all leading to?”
“To our survival.”
“The survival of the human race.”
They are way out of their league here and they know it, just fueling the fire.
“I don't get it.”
“We need small numbers if we want to make it.”
“Fast.”
“We're much further down the road than many realise.”
“That's why we're doing this, you see. I know you don't like it, I can see it in your eyes and you have always been clear on the issue. You are an old school countryside fascist.”
“But we are the modern version, we are not afraid to take the necessary decisions.”
“And this time the beauty is it's world wide, which leaves nobody in a position to criticise us.”
Cristo, with his broadest smile, claiming the acknowledgements.
“By the way, you're in with us, dear. No worries there.”
“There's a good few millions to survive.”
“At least the coming round-up.”
“Coming soon?”
“As soon as it all collapses, I guess.”
“Which could be any day, really.”
There is prolonged silence for the first time that afternoon.
“What'll it be like, then?” La Cospe comes out.
“Think diseases.”
“What kind of diseases?”
“Any kind.”
“When time comes, the Americans will worry about that. Our job it is to ensure the public won't have the energy and means to defend themselves.”
La Cospe is shaking off second thoughts, it seems.
“And that's why we have to deal with Catalunya as soon as possible.”
“We will, María, we will,” Mariano smiles his mañana smile.
At the backbench somebody raised their hand.
“Yes?”
“What's the situation with Luís?”
“There is no situation. Luís is safely in jail where he belongs.”
“I hear he's quickly becoming a people's hero.”
“Let him have his moment in the sun. Without evidence he can't touch us.”
“There is still the supposed pendrive.”
“It would have surfaced by now. La Cospe went to confront him the other day and there was nothing new came up.”
Another not so comfortable silence floods the room, people suddenly less rosy.
“May I remark how beautifully-timed Soraya's attack on the unemployed was,” Mariano drags a rescue topic to the fore.
“Half a million frauds. Great number.”
“And very well done! You're hands were trembling as if you honestly felt anger flowing through your veins.”
“Your eyes were on fire.”
Soraya taking in the praise, Cristo nodding her politely.
“What exactly were you accusing them of, money spoken?”
“Small numbers, I take it?”
“Certainly nothing one would waste a good envelope on.”
