The Inner Sanctum
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The Gallic Parliament, Le Palais de Aurelis
The inner sanctum...that's what they always called it. The Office of the Prime Minister, and the offices of all the MPs as well as the National Assembly and Senate. The newest Prime Minister sat in his office late at night. He was looking at the Cabinet he had inherited from Elisabeth Baschet, the now former Prime Minister.
He continued to shuffle around pictures of each of the candidates for positions.
"No, if I move Ocasio-Cortez to the Foreign Ministry, I don't think anyone would take her seriously," Prime Minister Ayrault said to himself. Speak of the devil...a knock on the door and in popped the perky head of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.
"Hi-hi! I hope you don't mind me popping in to say goodnight," said Alexandria. Ayrault was at least twice her age and well old enough to be her father. But he liked her energy.
"Ah. Bonsoir, mademoiselle," Ayrault said to his Interior Minister. "Going directly home, I assume?"
"No, I gotta go bartend a little bit; keeps me grounded," Alexandria answered. Ayrault raised an unamused eyebrow. "Jeez, it's just a joke. I gave that up when I got elected. Anyway, I'm gone."
Ayrault enjoyed his silence again. He worked slowly and methodically, every move carefully planned. Yes, he couldn't deviate from his plans. Another knock on the door signalled an aide letting the Prime Minister know that his car back to the Hotel Matignon would leave without him. He looked at the clock...3:45 am.
"Ah oui...I'm coming," said the Prime Minister. He got up and shuffled his items into a briefcase before walking out to the civil service car. It was a Peugeot hatchback flanked by police motorcycles. "I appreciate the car, but maybe a sedan next time?"
"Desolee...this was the only one available with a driver this late," replied the aide as he opened the passenger side door. "Bonne chance with your summits coming up."'
Ayrault waved at the aide before the car drove away. He had about five hours of sleep coming his way before he was to meet the Queen at St. Nicholas' iconic castle on the channel, Mont St. Nicholas.
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Cabinet Office, Palais d'Aurelis
Acting Prime Minister Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Minister for the Interior
Whenever the Prime Minister is out of the country, the Acting Prime Minister at home is the Interior Minister by constitutional convention. Considering Florence had left for Trondheim as well, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez found herself legitimately in charge of the cabinet meeting. Considering Jean-Marc had only been Prime Minister for a couple of days, this was a big moment for the Cabinet. It had just finally been reshuffled. The ministers all sat and Alexandria placed herself in the centre.
"Welcome everyone," Alexandria said. The room got more quiet. "Prime Minister Ayrault is away at St. Nicholas with Her Majesty as they negotiate with the UNSR. Foreign Minister Parly is on her way to Trondheim now to negotiations there. Therefore I can call this meeting. The first order of business is access to everyone's ministerial email and internal server accounts. Anyone with problems so far?"
The meeting began innocently enough. The Cabinet was getting some of the nitty gritty stuff out of the way. Alexandria felt this was smoother than a Long Island on a night out in Ibiza. Still, she pressed on with the meeting.
"Okay, now here's something. Lowering the retirement age to 60 and increasing state pension contributions on individuals by 1% and business by 2%. That's something the Prime..." began Alexandria. She was immediately cut off by groans from the more centrist faction. The Baschetists, as they called themselves on day one, had Parly on their side but she wasn't here to keep them in line. So they acted out.
"I already said to the Prime Minister that people are living too long for the state to pay generous pensions from 60 to death. The 100 year old woman will have lived 40% of her life on the state payroll after only working for 40% of it as well. How is that fair on younger workers?" Finance Minister Pierre Moscovici replied.
"I'd say they'd have earned it, giving up to 48 years of their lives to the economy through productivity. We need to make sure they've earned a comfortable retirement that shows gratitude for the work they put in," Housing Minister Emmanuelle Cosse chimed in.
The Cabinet started to ping pong back and forth on this. Alexandria had never seen the Cabinet get so heated over something so fast. She quickly stepped in.
"Listen, we have Cabinet responsibility to the policy. Now both Parly and the Prime Minister have said yes to this. So it needs 9 votes to be a majority. All opposed?" Alexandria said. There were about seven hands that raised before two more joined them. "In favour?"
There was a long pause. A few hands raised, it looked to be about five. Alexandria raised hers...the sixth. Finally, Emmanuelle Cosse raised hers, the seventh. A couple more trickled in. 11-9, the cabinet would pursue the policy.
"Then we are bound by cabinet responsibility to defend this policy," Alexandria said to the rest of the Cabinet. "Alright; the Prime Minister wanted me to remind everyone that I will be standing in for him at the Ministerial Questions this afternoon. Meeting adjourned."
Alexandria stayed seated in her chair before she noticed the National Education Minister Vincent Peillon was still in the room.
"Vincent, what do you need?" asked Alexandria.
"I just wanted to say good job on chairing your first meeting. You're quite impressive for someone who has reached such heights at the age of 30. You're looking like the future of this party," Vincent complimented before he left. Alexandria paused for a moment, sitting in the Prime Minister's place at the table and smiled. She rolled around in the chair for a moment before envisioning herself as the PM. An aide knocked on the door, breaking the moment of fantasy.
"Minister...you're needed at the Hotel de Beauvau," said the aide. The Hotel de Beauvau was the seat of the Ministry of the Interior.
"Oh...pardon..." Alexandria giggled, getting up before she twirled her way out of the door and walked happily into the ministerial car.
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Palais d'Aurelis, The Gallic Parliament Building
Courtyard
The Prime Minister had returned from his summit with the Nicolezian Foreign Minister and managed to get a bit of sleep before heading into Palais d'Aurelis the next morning. The courtyard really didn't have much to it, unlike some other more opulent squares around the capital. It was 8 am and as the sun rose just above the roof of the Palais, Ayrault saw someone striding towards him. It was his chief aide.
"Prime Minister," said the aide.
"Alize," said Ayrault, slowing his stride.
"Did you get my email this morning with the Cabinet's decisions from yesterday?" Alize asked. Ayrault remembered reading a long stream of consciousness email from his aide and didn't bother to look beyond the numbers.
"Yes, I found that email. You couldn't proofread it before sending it to me?" Ayrault asked Alize. He sat down on one of the benches. "I could barely sift through it."
"They tell you not to punctuate emails when they're meant to be informal," Alize said.
"Says who?" asked Ayrault.
"Well, my uni professor said so when we took our notes class..." Alize began. Ayrault couldn't help but chuckle. His inner teacher was unamused.
"My dear, did you know I taught history and German at the tertiary level?" Ayrault asked his aide. She shook her head. "Had you sent me this as a communique to our class, I would have made you send it right back. Now, let us get to my office in a moment. Let's take time to enjoy the morning before we get stuck into our jobs."
Ayrault noticed he was carrying a cafe au lait with him. He sat down and put it to his lips. He could feel the warmth creep down his throat and into his soul, tingling down to his toes. It wasn't exactly cold but considering the Palais d'Aurelis was right on the river, the palace would be a little cooler in the morning. His aide was busy typing away on her government issued phone.
"Put that away for a moment," said Ayrault.
"What...but you have so many requests. The Housing Minister just asked what we are going to do about the shortage of affordable housing in Tigeaux and..." Alize began. Ayrault took her phone and threw it across the courtyard. It shattered upon impact.
Alize looked at him with a shocked face.
"Oops, quelle dommage...you're forced to take everything at a less hectic pace," Ayrault said to his aide with a smile. Alize was frozen in time. She then looked at him having his coffee and then back at her empty hands. "You millennials have to take time to stop. You've lost what it means to be human, and for someone to work for the state and forget that...it's a crime."
"What do you mean? Alize asked.
"The business of government will get done in time, Alize. The little moments that make us human come and go all too quickly. How was your evening?" Ayrault asked her. She stopped and thought for a moment.
"Well, I did go out last night and tried a new bar in the Bazaar district," Alize answered. "It was quite fun."
"Really? I've not been there in such a long time? Do they still have Le Grand Marché over there?" Ayrault said, now interested.
"Ya, that's where we got wast...I mean, just had a couple of drinks," Alize said, cutting off her statement. Ayrault raised an eyebrow.
"You think I forget what it's like to be 29 and in the big city? The stories I could tell you of my escapades. Once, I was at the Moulin with a pretty, young thing. Next morning, I woke up with my head near a gutter, clutching a bottle of liquor using a newspaper as a blanket," Ayrault said. Alize laughed.
The two continued their conversation when finally Culture Minister Aurelie Filippetti made her way over to them.
"Prime Minister, it's nearly time for our Cabinet meeting," Minister Filippetti said to Ayrault. He looked at his watch.
"Oh, 8:52. I was going to be 18 minutes late to walk through that door there, go down one hallway and find the Cabinet meeting room," Ayrault said with a wry smile on his face. "No, my dear, you have to understand. I will of course be at the Cabinet meeting, but whose Cabinet is it?"
Minister Filippetti said nothing.
"Ah, quite," Ayrault said. "Now, if we're going to be asking about each other and what they should be doing, how is that audit of our publicly owned television channels going? That audit that, if I recall right, Elisabeth had announced three weeks ago and yet here you are with nothing..."
Minister Filippetti simply turned around and walked away. Ayrault gave a cheeky wink to Alize and the two resumed talking.
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Parliamentary Offices, Palais d'Aurelis
27 March 2020Every deputy has at least an office they share with another in the Palais d'Aurelis. The Prime Minister and the Party Leaders get to have their own offices with no sharing. Ayrault, of course, has the Hotel de Matignon as his office as well, but party business was conducted in the Palais d'Aurelis. Or at least by conventional thought in th e19th Century. In practice, Ayrault barely spent time there. If he's not at Matignon, he's in the Cabinet room provided to the Government here or on the floor of the National Assembly.
This was the first time in a long time he sat down in his office at the palace. He sat down, ready to answer some emails.
20 unanswered emails
- 27/03/20 09.37 [email protected] re: Faction Probs
- 27/03/20 09.25 [email protected] re: new phone, thnx PM
- 27/03/20 09.02 [email protected] re: PMO aides not helping staff with formatting
- 27/03/20 09.37 [email protected] re: Fremetian foods are DELIGHTFUL
He continued to work through them when he heard a knock on the door. Peeking inside was Emmanuel Macron, leader of the Liberaux En Marche, the big challengers to the right wing of the Parti Socialiste.
"Fuck off," Ayrault said over the screen of his iMac 18,2. Macron walked in a little closer with a big smile on his face.
"Ayrault, no hard feelings eh? After all, I bet it was a shock to you just like it was a shock to all of us to see the back end of Baschet," Macron said. He was being somewhere between convivial and a snake oil salesman and Ayrault didn't really have the patience for it.
"So, what did you come in here for, to gloat?" asked Ayrault.
"Well, I was going to say that Baschet had negotiated in the Senate for there to be some changes to that workplace relations bill and now it seems to be held up in committee," Macron explained.
"By your yellow rats," Ayrault answered.
"Better than being les vaches rouges, eh?" commented Macron. "Prime Minister, all I'm asking for is a bit of leeway in the legislative programme here. Baschet would have negotiated something by now."
Ayrault gritted his teeth. Macron came in here to gloat about how the media were starting to crown him the next Elisabeth Baschet, particularly that rag Le Monde. They were on board with socialism since 2016 and then all of a sudden, now that he was Prime Minister, back on the liberal-progressive teat.
"You know what, Emmanuel. We can negotiate, but on the floor of the National Assembly. On record," Ayrault replied. "Then we will see what the anointed one will say. Now, get out of my office, I have work to do."
Macron frowned a bit before shrugging his shoulders.
"Suits yourself. Have fun on the 15th," commented Macron. "I suppose you'll be seeing a lot of yellow, and it won't be from the jaundiced look of your idolisation of Mitterand."
Ayrault said nothing, jaw set tightly. Alize came into the room and as he typed away angrily, slowly sat down.
"Anything I can do for you, Prime Minister?" asked Alize.
"Know any KGB members in Icholasen that can take out an annoying fuckwit?" asked Ayrault.
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Vignolles Estate, Vignolles, Aquitaine-Est
29 March 2019
Prime Ministers have found the trip down south from Aurelis to be refreshing and beautiful, and it allows them an inner peace. Jean-Marc Ayrault found the initial drive down refreshing. He was from somewhere way less populated in the northeast. This southwestern town among the Dordognes, Vignolles, was quaint and shockingly beautiful. It had been the end of the weekend. He called for his deputy to come down on the Sunday.
The Prime Minister was surprised to see Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez show up completely on time.
"Bonjour," Alexandria smiled. Ayrault gave her a salute-style wave before the two greeted each other with the customary cheek kisses. "You called me down to Vignolles. Must be nice to have this as your Prime Ministerial retreat.
Ayrault smiled,
"It's nice to be out of Aurelis for a bit," answered Ayrault. "It's been a hell of a week! Meeting with the Nicolezian Foreign Minister, sending Parly to Fremet. And later this week I've got the big test coming up with a trip to the Duxburian Union at some point., It's been a whirlwind of a time. All while getting used to running government."
"But you're doing so well, Prime Minister," Alexandria smiled. "We've started implementing that Green New Deal. I could see Michel Kligenberg turning red in the face as we passed each other in the Parliament."
Ayrault had a laugh. It was the morning, and the two had been standing outside for a moment watching the sun peek over the trees.
"Do you fancy a bit of breakfast before we get into it?" asked Ayrault. "I make a mean croque monsieur if you'd like." Alexandria smiled.
"Well, you know my family likes a heartier breakfast. Back when we grew up in the countryside, we actually had a larger breakfast than the Aurelis petit-dejuner types," Alexandria explained. "So, there might be potato galette and maybe a lightly cooked fresh tomato."
"Oh my, that is quite the hearty breakfast," Ayrault gasped. "Well, enough of is enough. A large breakfast we will have. We have much to talk about." Ayrault wandered into the house, and the open style old kitchen greeted him and Alexandria almost immediately. The milk, butter and cheese was sitting on the wooden counter next to the black, wood-fired stove. Mrs. Brigitte Terrien-Ayrault was figuring out what else she was going to make when she noticed Alexandria.
"Oh, bonjour!" Mrs. Ayrault waved to Alexandria. She waved back. Ayrault opened the package of butter and slapped a pat of it onto the counter before he cut it smaller. Alexandria gathered up the eggs she could see, about nine of them. She began to crack them into the saucepan. Ayrault shovelled the butter in as Mrs. Ayrault opened the old-fashioned ice box and pulled out a package of lard de poitrine frais and cut it.
The smells of the kitchen and the light-hearted conversation gave way to the conversation of politics at the breakfast table. Brigitte stayed quiet while the Prime Minister and his deputy began to talk.
"The nerve of Macron!" Ayrault said loudly. "You'd think that I was dead and Elisabeth Baschet a life-long libérale." Alexandria shook her head as she stirred her tea.
"It's okay; we'll wipe the floor with them in the council elections. The emissions trading scheme is going to gain us votes on the left. The EELV are going to be scrambling to figure out how to respond to that," Alexandria commented. "Something like, well of course this government is using the most capitalist solution possible, blah blah blah."
"Well, it'll be interesting to see who the people believe. Will they believe Kligenberg, who will call the policy communist...Macron, who will say he could run it better....or the Greens, who will call it a capitalist pig solution," Ayrault continued. He sliced the tomato and shoveled it onto his fork with some of the eggs.
"Dear, no politics at the breakfast table," Brigitte commented. "Don't mind him, he's always been like this. He's passionate about politics." Alexandria smiled.
"But he's such a methodical person. I would have never guessed there's this kind of fire in him, either."
"The business of governance requires planning for all occasions and all steps to go wrong. The business of politics requires conviction and ideals. A successful Prime Minister has both," Ayrault said to Alexandria. "You just don't see mine because the public needs to see a Prime Minister that is cool, collected and organised in this time where everything else is chaos." He picked up his coffee, black, and drank it. "Brigitte, you really did it this time with your press of this coffee. Each cup has been getting better this weekend."
"He'd rather have the Matignon staff's cooking though," Brigitte laughed. The three let out a chuckle. Alexandria looked out of the window. The two continued talk council election strategy before Ayrault paused.
"You know, Alexandria," Ayrault said. "You are the future of this party. Whether or not you want to stay in government or head to Europolis, that's for you to decide. But it's up to you to carry the banner of the Parti Socialiste. I see a lot of promise in you, young lady."
Alexandria had a sheepish grin on her face. She didn't know what to say. Ayrault continued his meal as if nothing happened. Brigitte shrugged her shoulders towards Alexandria before the three finished breakfast. As the dishes were being done, Ayrault turned to Alexandria.
"Well, we are going to on a trip around the area to go canvas! What a surprise for the activists!" Ayrault smiled towards Alexandria. He waved for her to come outside with him. "But you're driving. The Gendarmerie that follow me insist that I should not drive and rather have a driver. But I'd like to send a more humble message to the people."
Alexandria obliged and the two began to drive around the Dordogne, meeting the PS Aquitaine-Est branch organisations and walking the small towns with them, putting up flyers and handing out red buttons.
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Opposition Offices, Palais d'Aurelis
1 April 2020, 20:00"What do you mean Ayrault is as popular!?" bellowed Michel Kligenberg. He was in the Opposition wing of the Palais d'Aurelis and the bellows echoed in the meeting room of the shadow cabinet. No one said anything. One finally piped up...
"Well...Michel, Ayrault is pretty straightforward..." began Shadow Foreign Minister Pascal Allizard. Kligenberg said nothing. He just threw a tennis ball across the room. The rest of the shadow cabinet said nothing.
"I cannot believe that the public is so stupid that they would allow Ayrault to be as popular as Baschet. He's half the politician she was," Kligenberg responded. "Say what you want about that woman, but she was effective."
There was a long pause again. '
"You know what, Ayrault has to have dirt on him from the times he was the leader of a union; there's bound to be at least someone in it that hates him," Kligenberg said angrily. "Aides, you get on that right now. In the meantime, we are going to try and find a way to make this government look bad on immigration if it's the last thing I do."
The Christian Democrats continued on for the better part of two hours trying to figure out ways to attack the new government. The switch had them empty of ideas. Ayrault seemed too...normal...for anything to have popped out yet. Even the backbench deputies were tight-lipped.
