Xerconia, Federal Capital Territory
Radiatian Federation
Gridlock.
All across Radiatia's capital, cars were bumper to bumper, horns blared and drivers swore at one another, as if somehow this would solve the problem.
The highways had turned into massive parking bays, while every side street and alleyway was filled with hundreds of drivers who thought that they had found themselves a shortcut, only to later discover just how horribly mistaken they were.
Even out in the desert, on the outskirts of the city, cars were bumper to bumper, blocking both lanes and turning into traffic carnage.
This had been the situation for the last few days, as Radiatians from all across the federation converged on the capital for the funeral of the man who had brought them their freedom.
A large number of wary travellers had given up on trying to beat the traffic, and had used the crowded streets as parking spaces while they got out and walked, only to be subsumed into a crowd of black of gold.
"Hey Ma! Now that Mr. Silviu's dead does that mean we have to go back to being communists?" Asked a small boy, as his family joined the crowds.
His mother looked down at him. They had spent the last two days travelling across prairies, steppes and desert to get here from their hometown in northern Xegfause.
"No, Jimmy. That's why he's so great. Because of him we don't have to be communists anymore."
High above them, a helicopter flew overhead, hovering over parts of the city that foreign delegates seldom visited, the parts with the run down warehouses and Soviet-style apartments, rather than the castles and golden architecture of central Xerconia.
The news reporter, who was the main passenger of the aircraft, spoke into his microphone. "As you can see here John, traffic is backed up as far as the eye can see. There is absolutely no way to get through this mess, it's a nightmare plain and simple. I hate to use such as cheesy phrase but this could well be carmaggedon!"
"We'll be right back with more news from the capital, as we report live at Traiyan Silviu's funeral."
Level 86, Executive Tower
Federation Square
Xerconia, FCT
On the 86th floor of the Executive Tower - the building which housed the federal Cabinet and government departments, Foreign Affairs Minister Gregori Fyoderov leaned back tensely in his chair, as he watched the news report about the city traffic.
"Fuck me, Freddie." He murmured.
Within moments, Freddie - the large, obese janitor was standing near him fully nude.
"Well if ya say so, boss. He-hyuk!" Said Freddie, proceeding towards him.
Fyoderov held up a hand. "Freddie... do you remember our conversation last week about figures of speech, and not taking things literally?"
Freddie gaped for a moment before nodding. "Uh huh. Now I remember. Sorry Mr. Fyoderov. Hyuk."
Freddie put his overalls back on before leaving the office, while Gregori cursed under his breath.
Freddie was a direct result of one of former Prime Minister Lena Toriah's welfare-to-work programmes. Many a time had Fyoderov attempted to fire Freddie, only to be reminded that firing a simpleton from his job would bring nothing but bad publicity to the Minister. Grudgingly, Fyoderov had been forced to keep him on board as janitor.
He had once attempted to reassign Freddie to the Federal Ministry of Education, a few floors down, as a way of reminding them of the failures of Radiatia's public education system. Unfortunately this had proved impossible as recent budget cutbacks meant that the Federal Ministry of Education couldn't afford to hire a janitor.
Fyoderov looked down at Federation Square. There were large crowds, but they were mostly being kept at bay by police and the military, while marching bands rehearsed in the square.
On the south side of the square, there was now a mausoleum, where Traiyan Silviu would be entombed in glass, his body on display to those who wished to visit him forever more.
"Minister, if we could please have a word?"
From the next room, Archer Sternburg - the Permanent Secretary of the Federal Ministry of Foreign Affairs beaconed for him to join them.
"It looks bad out there. Do we have any solutions?" Asked Gregori, with a trace of urgency in his voice.
"Have any of the foreign delegates arrived?" Asked they grey, genial man sitting across the table from him - Stephen Allard, the Mayor of Xerconia.
"Not yet. At this rate we may have to airlift them by helicopter." Said one of the civil servants.
"I hear the President of Noordeinde is going to attempt to drive through this." Said Fyoderov, while the others at the table murmured variations of "He's mad" and "That's Impossible!"
Gregori sat down opposite Stephen Allard - a man he loathed.
Fyoderov and Allard were from rival political parties - Fyoderov was a career-minded Conservative, who had bitched and backstabbed his way to the top of the corporate world, and was now using the same technique to climb the political ladder.
Allard was a lefty-liberal from the Workers Party, who had bluffed and blundered his way to the top, and as a person was nauseatingly genuine - a man who, like most Radiatians, was too brainless to be malign.
"All this traffic only goes to show why we need to invest in public transport!" Said Allard with a hearty laugh, as if sharing a joke amongst friends.
"The public transport system is closed down because the nation is in a mourning period. That's why everyone is driving." Said Fyoderov through gritted teeth.
Having to work with Allard had been a nightmare from day one for Gregori. Allard's city-wide by-law prohibiting firearms had meant that Fyoderov had been forced to send several embarrassing letters to foreign leaders, most notably Central and Eastern Visayas, asking them to leave their guns at home.
As for his views on solving the traffic problem, he seemed to think that the government would be able to suddenly build a new railway or bus line and solve everything in a week - only demonstrating how removed he was from reality.
"Fuck it," Said Gregori. "We're gonna airlift them over to the Embassy District. It's the only way. Once they're there, we'll close all the roads between the Embassy District and Federation Square."
"You want me to close the roads?" Said the mayor.
"No Stephen, I want you to fucking die..." Muttered Gregori under his breath. "Yes. Please the roads." He said more audibly.
There were shuffles and murmurs as his orders were carried out and plans put in motion.
It was difficult to believe that Xerconia in summer was the same city as in winter.
A mere few months ago, foreign leaders visiting the city had had to make their way through subzero temperatures and icy roads. Today, the desert sun burned anyone unfortunate enough not to be under shelter, as temperatures reached around 38 degrees Celsius.
Prime Minister Soden Larssen stood outside as helicopters buzzed overhead - some of them military, and many of them carrying foreign leaders across the traffic to their embassies. He wiped the sweat off his brow with a fat hand, while his skin went pink in the sun, making him resemble a pig moreso than usual.
He was standing in a location of historical significance - it was the exact spot where, 25 years ago, the late Traiyan Silviu had uttered the immortal, history-changing words:
"The Radiatian People's Socialist Union has from this point onwards officially ceased to exist."
As Soden looked around him, he could see how the city - and the nation - had changed.
The red flags were now black and gold. The hammer and sickle monuments were gone, having been replaced by banks, brothels and Greasy Joe's. The military parades featuring tanks and missiles had been replaced by.... actually they were still happening... but at least the troops wore different uniforms now.
Inside Xerconia Castle - the city's oldest building (despite being less than 100 years old), and host to the Radiatian Federal Parliament - the body of Traiyan Silviu lay in repose, while former Presidents and Prime Ministers gathered to mourn.
Escorted by police officers who were more heavily armed that one would normally feel comfortable with, the world leaders slowly made their way along.
As they entered they were handed a condensed version of the funeral programme - the full version being a 500 page booklet that could have been the work of none other than Radiatian bureaucracy.
Greetings honourable guests,
The Government of the Radiatian Federation wishes to thank you for your attendance in a day of national, and international mourning.
Traiyan Silviu was a man who brought democracy to a land where it was believed democracy could never be brought. He was a man whose bravery, and willingness to change things that needed changing, has freed millions of people from the bondage of totalitarianism, and made the world a safer, more peaceful place.
A secular funeral service will held in Xerconia Castle, before Silviu's embalmed body is placed on display in a purpose-built mausoleum in Federation Square.
For full details of the programme, please consult the 500 page funeral programme guide, however the following outline should hopefully suffice in brief.
Programme:
- 12:00 - 13:00: World leaders arrive in Federation Square, with friendly conversation between guests
- 13:00: Singing of the Radiatian national anthem.
- 13:30: Eulogy presented by His Excellency Hiroshi Vodotel
- 14:00: World Leaders and personal friends invited to pay tribute to Traiyan Silviu
- 15:00 Final funeral march, "I Vow to Thee My Country" played by the RSEF Presidential Guards Band.
- 15:30: 21-gun salute to the late Traiyan Silviu, including RFAF flyover
- 16:00: Casket to be carried by honourary pallbearers to final resting place in Federation Square
- 19:00: Banquet for foreign leaders held in Xerconia Castle
Translators will be made available, as most proceedings will likely take place in Radiatian.
Once again, we thank you for joining us in our time of sorrow.
Yours Sincerely,
His Excellency Hiroshi Vodotel
President of the Radiatian Federation
Level 101 Executive Tower
Federation Square
Xerconia, FEDERAL CAPITAL TERRITORY
Radiatian Federation
