Deslinkitu Chronicles, Alucinor Pt. 2

The Premiere returned to his office rather briskly, his mobile ringing eagerly in his jacket pocket. There are only two situations where Alucinor didn't answer his mobile:

1. His mother was calling to describe yet another eligible spouse, concerned that he was "aging off the bachelor market," though, he might remind, he was only 30 years old, possibly the youngest PM in history

2. His secretary was calling for a surprise visit by one of the many superior politicians, i.e., ministers of the interior, defense, or whatever.

This was the second scenario, and these situations have been more commonly the second scenario lately. He was either become a more ineligible bachelor, or his superiors were more determined to catch him away from his office. He was a threat to the older generation of politicians of Deslinkitu. He represented progress and reform, seeking policies that reach all of Deslinkitu, not only the well-connected regions. He knew that if his superiors caught him away from his office just once, he'd be labeled as a good-for-nothing, a thumb-twiddler.

It was partially true, however. Much of Deslinkitan politics were absorbed in mediating local conflicts between the several ethnic groups of Deslinkitu. Why, just last week, Alucinor was visiting the north regions, a rather mountainous landscape, and was negotiating land disputes with the Fertoondian minority, known for their tribal ways. They were a fascinating race; they towered above any other race in Deslinkitu and were as tough as the mountains themselves. They stood unmoving to change, just as the mountains stood steadfastly, or impartially, against the wind.

In any case, he truly believed that many of the said ministers were only siphoning away public money for their own gain. Many of them lived in the southwestern Golden Shores. Their pale skin seemed incongruous in comparison to the locals there, who were evenly tanned and just as complacent. Theses ministers lived in monstrous mansions that consumed stretches of land that could've been used for ten or twenty others to live comfortably. Alucinor had the suspicion that these ministers sometimes got lost in their own houses, which is why they were late all the time.

Alucinor rushed into his office, wiping a veneer of sweat from his brow, and nodded to his secretary, who frowned as she saw his library pass leaking from his pocket. With a meaningful expression, Alucinor yielded a slight bow and dove head first into his office.

He always enjoyed walking into his office. It was spacious. It had a small conference area with plush couches that was separate from his study. He had a gargantuan bookcase full of the books that he had read during his decades of schooling. In the center there was a crystal globe that was presented to him by the PM of Slovakia, which spun in mid-air. He never understood the mechanics of it, but it was certainly amusing to look located far-off places on it. He had several paintings he managed to collect with his relatively small income hanging about the walls. He had a few obscure pieces of classical masters, Caravaggio, Raphael, along with even more obscure works by Picasso, Manet, and still more nameless works by contemporary Asian artists.

He sat at his desk and rested his eyes, trying to catch his breath. The minutes oozed off the clock and dirtied the floor. He knew that within a few minutes, at most a dozen, a minister of some irrelevant ministry would barge into his office and bark orders at his secretary that required her to exit the governmental building and go to an import store.

Alucinor combed his hair, fixed his shirt, and sat back, looking out the large window behind him for ministerial vehicles. His hand leaped into his jacket and he pulled out his cigarette tin. He looked through the contents, as he enjoyed mixing the brands, and ejected a Virgina blend. Alucinor lit his cigarette with the heavy lighter et al paperweight on his desk and slowly took a shallow breath in. He closed his eyes and let his place in this world sink into him. He let it swirl about him with or without meaning. He felt the great mysteries of the universe pressing against this minuscule world, and it was like a pressure against his skull.

There is so much to learn, he trivially murmured to himself. There is so much we can never know.

His mind raced on the surface of the landscapes he visited throughout Deslinkitu, the beautiful pastures of the Eastern farms, the mountains to the North, the beaches to the South, and deserts to the West, and he thought it beautiful how so many races, dare he say species, exist in Deslinkitu. There are places where has yet to visit, but has read that still resembled the medieval times. There were forests whose trees were sentient. There were entire underground civilizations that had highly intelligent creatures but had the appearance of moles.

What a world to live in, he thought as he ashed his cigarette. As he became satiated by the greatness of the world, he saw two black ministerial cars pull up to his building.