Pilot

His Name Was Le Patron

Where else might the next stage unfold, if not in Paris? Ah, but no-Le Soleil! Though not an ancient name, its predecessor had grown too archaic since the founding of the State fourteen years ago.
And it is here that Askan pondered gravely: the new Vice-Director of Public Safety, it seemed, was an imbecile from the Alsace region-untrustworthy, to be sure, but disturbingly shrewd, with an oratorical brilliance that was far from trifling. Perhaps that same brilliance had carried him across the border during the tumult of national unrest. Alone in his office, Askan meditated at length-and he had also received advice from Anounilh, the Head of Government, that a discreet inquiry into the man was warranted. He could well become a source of future discord. Despite his German blood, Baudelair possessed the dangerous knack of rousing the masses, which made him, therefore, a man to be watched.
Askan turned in his chair and studied the antique window behind him, once a symbol of the Old Republic. Who had burdened it with such symbolic weight remained unknown; but plainly, a wooden lattice inset with glass panes could hardly be thought fit to represent the lofty ideals of a nation.
A knock fell upon the door, and from behind it came a voice:
"Permit me to enter, Patron..."
Askan turned his chair again.
"By all means," he said, and laid down his papers.
The door opened. A man stepped in, clad in a black coat over a pale brown shirt.
He spoke: "Patron," and offered a bow before rising straight once more.
One might mistake him for any ordinary fellow-but once the plump, youthful face was lifted, it became unmistakable: it was Baudelair.
"It is not your habit to visit my office, young man..." Askan remarked, gesturing toward a chair and shaking his hand.
"Perhaps you do not often see me," Baudelair replied.
"That cannot be-I make frequent circuits of the building," said Askan. "Unless, of course, I've missed something in the Bullion or Bain dormitories. That wing belongs to the military. They do not take kindly to being disturbed."
"I understand."
"And so-your purpose here?"

"To be perfectly frank, I did not expect the door would be left open to me."

"Anounilh is not here. She is-Mikail. Anyone who seeks an audience with me must first contend with her." Askan sighed. "But in her absence, the air becomes still. I scarcely manage to work, for she carries all the burden-"
"I mean no insult, Patron, but I confess I have long thought the Head of State to serve more as a national emblem than a functioning authority."
"Oh? Then my people mean nothing to you? Nor to this government?"
"That is not my meaning, Patron. Surely you understand how perilous it is to allow a Head of Government unchecked control over the lifeblood of the State... though I do place great trust in Miss Anounilh-"
"Then it is my duty to silence her. My people are myself. To harm them is to strike at me."
Baudelair smiled. "A wise declaration," he said.
"This is not a matter of militarism or governance, Baudelair..."
At that, Baudelair's smile vanished-yet beneath his nose, the redness of his lips still shone, wide and parted in Askan's presence.
"I am astonished, Patron-have you resided within my mind all this time?"
"Let us say you are part of something larger. A spectacular actor in the grand opera known as France-alongside other offices... ha!"
"It ought to be legitimised!"
"If Anounilh shares my sentiment, it shall be so," said Askan. "To me, she is an antiquated performer-a king disgusted by his own queen, such am I... Her existential-capitalist strategy is far too effective in advancing her intellectual liberty, which borders on the inhuman."
"That is difficult to calculate... and we have struggled to negotiate with her," Baudelair admitted.
"So that is your purpose in coming here? Or one of them?"
"One of them. You've already named the former."
"You refer to the budget of the Youth Wing-the paramilitaries, yes? A matter of considerable importance. But I would also like the Eiffel Tower to revolt at once, to become an instrument of vandalism-if you are amenable. Should the Department of Public Safety acquiesce, they shall receive nine percent of the national surplus-provided they allow my people to scrawl upon the walls and tower alike," Askan explained, his eyes drifting from Baudelair to the painting beside the maroon curtain that hung along the right wall of his office.
"Is this measure confined to the city, Patron?" Baudelair whispered.
Askan returned his gaze.
"Yes, to this administration alone," he said.
"I must deliberate with the Deputy Director, if you permit?"
"By all means. May the Kapitan approve of it."
Baudelair bowed once more, turned on his heel, and appeared to stagger slightly upon exiting, closing the door behind him.

At last, he had gone. Askan smiled. It had been a fine plan. The purpose had been, indeed, to defile the Tower-but the Department of Public Safety would surely denounce the act. Therefore, it was prudent to divert a modest portion of the national surplus-after all, the market had reached such a state of orthodoxy as to guarantee internal investment stability. At least, they no longer required the World Bank. And soon enough, the world would adopt what France now embraced: Genitals, and Gold! That artistic system long forgotten since the Great War of 1914!