Turn of the Century

Chapter 6 - Sunset

For the remainder of the day, as uneventful as the first half it was. Meeting on meeting, discussion on discussion, all to no avail. Progress stiff, oh so many preparations and oh so many revelations, staffers work tirelessly, as did managers and their underling drones. The machine of the nation had not yet awoken, and so frightful all were for it to do so, for it was a matter not of if, but when.

Shoichi, in his office—with yet more counsel, bored down by discussion as usual. For from one, it was on more policy and advice from all sorts of colorful faces—neverending titles beginning with whole phrases and sentences as 'Director of Strategy', 'Chairman for Policy', and 'Chief Advisor' all ended with various other sentences; a comedic dance for any who looked from outside. And yet Shoichi found himself stuck within—to read them on deadpan. He was used to all the titles and names; having to remember who was who and recalling this and that, for it came with the job as Cabinet Secretary. Instead, the trouble came with just how many of them he'd had to coordinate—dozens on dozens at a time, and the flow never seemed to stop: never would.

And through three it was an argument with the American ambassador, apparently so important as to have reached him directly, and yet not so that it was done by phone, all sorts of clamorous affair heard in the background. Even if the facade of professionalism had been put up, it was so thin it was but a laced veil, as he could feel all sorts of shades of red and blue come through in what was by all means an icy exchange for an argument. They would meet to talk later, of course, but later was not now, for Shoichi's schedule grew ever larger still—an air pump tightly bound to a balloon, faithfully and dutifully keeping the rate at which it grew consistent. Too consistent.

By five, simply a few hours of paperwork and inconsistent nagging from advisors bursting into his office. It was an uneventful set of time as compared to the previous seventeen hours and a welcome one at that. The peace, the calm, and all the quiet he needed. Perhaps monotonous, definitely boring, but all made for a wondrous contrast—far, far too much excitement packed into one singular day. Any other day and he could've fallen to rest right then and there. But in came new advisors with news, letters, and reports whenever he came close to dozing off. Every single time. And so, those ruffled white mountains to read stood ever taller—one already peaking at a great half-meter tall.

By seven, he'd fashioned a routine out of the whole ordeal that he was now fully engrossed by, for he could not find it in himself anymore to so much as close his eyes to blink. His were not solely bloodshot—they were simply red, as was his breath a raggedy panting sort, the type you could expect of a patient stricken by some ailment of the lung. Breaks were so far and few between, and he could hardly rub his eyes any longer, tears ducts so dry they could be reasonably compared to the Sahara. His last resting retreat, by the time he'd swallowed down his fifteenth hit of caffeine for the day at eighteen before midnight, was forty-two hours ago. The only indulgence left at the end of every day would've been a good rest, alas with such shortages oncoming and ongoing across all variety of things, no longer could he keep himself up any longer.

To work himself to death, having proven on his deathbed that at the very least he wouldn't have let his nation down—a calming thought.

And yet even despite the remaining contents of the day, about the same in mass and weight, it flew by four times as quickly as the first half, even if they were all repeats and rehashes of an endless slurry of meetings on meetings around tables big and small.

In his office chair, seated as newly-assigned Prime Minister, Shoichi would fall to rest; thirty-three past seven in the PM—an exact twelve seconds and a hundred-and-sixty-two milliseconds forward from the minute.

And so, our hero—savior to our heroine, falls to rest, for there was all the work in the world to be done at the dawn of the new day.

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