Post by KyferLegs (Diria) on Jun 25, 2023 20:20:32 GMT -5
Hasan Altin, the Minister of Economic Affairs, sat at his desk, his back hunched and eyes focused on the diagrams and graphs on his desk. His mind constantly worked numbers and predictions of Diria's number one export, oil. Their black gold made up for the overwhelming majority of profits that went into the treasury for Dirian Exports. Despite Diria's placement in isolation, or even armed neutrality to an extent, trade was integral to its survival. However, as years passed and more censuses happened, the numbers became more evident, and oil or its profit would only suffice the country for an increasingly short time. The big names of Nardras Oil Company, Skali's O & P, Katta-Tog Extractions, and more were constantly on these papers. Who had leached their way to many developing programs with Burisava, Nardras, Sohili, and Shawistan. Sighing and uneasy, Altin rose the glass of water next to him to their lips and sipped. He thought of the past, having an engineering and economics degree, somehow getting into politics, and now getting this role. Not wanting to further interrupt his train of thought, he chugged the water. It gave him clarity, which he desperately needed as his eye fixated on the pocket watch hanging over the new "phone" maintenance on his desk.
A few polite knocks occurred at the door in front of him. He quickly shoved the documents in front of him into his desk drawer. "It's open!" Following his raspy voice escaping his mouth, a young female darasae secretary peeked her long muzzle through the crack through the door she made for herself. She stated the Federal Minister of Housing, Urban Development, and Building was here. Thus, Altin quickly gestured for her to let the minister in.
Now entering Altin's office was a far older female Mednusai, her antennas dropping and lowering to get through the door too short for her. It appeared she was in the later stages of her life, apparent from the greying of her exoskeleton and her bioluminescent fading orange. Held to her stomach was a cloth that she put on Altin's desk as she slowly sat in the chair across from him. Altin spoke, breaking the awkward silence as he heard the Mednusai settle into position. "Minster Darya Abdi, what a pleas-"
Miss Abdi let out a loud groan, a harsh crackle escaping her mouth as she moved her left hand dismissively. "Enough of that. What do you need, sir-?" Her eyes shifted to the nameplate on Altin's desk. "Sir Altin."
Altin internally felt bothered, he couldn't care about the formalities, but at least she could've remembered his name. Considering how they were both ministers, he, for a moment, thought about how she even got the job. Shrugging it off, Altin pulled out a paper from his desk's drawer. "I already talked to the Minister of Finance, so the funding, wherever it is, is there. Yet, I still need your say and signature."
Miss Abdi grabbed the paper, "Ah, Minister Mahomet Belmokhtar, what a pleasant man." Altin desperately tried not to sigh while waiting for her to read the paper. Her eyes squinted as he pulled it close to her muzzle. "Offices?"
Altin nodded, thinking about showing the diagrams he just put away for courtesy sakes but considering what he knew of Miss Abdi, nothing would come from it. Instead, he offered a quick summary. "Diversification, offices could allow more white-collar workers, jobs, and well GDP." As he spoke, it became apparent Miss Abdi didn't care.
Shortly after, she put the paper down, grabbed a pen from Altin's desk, scribbled her name nonchalantly, tossed the pen down, and leaned back. She then took a deep hoarse breath, seized her cloth from the desk, and wiped her mouth. "There, you have it. I'll need a copy on my desk. Get the long-nosed girl outside to deal with that. Oh, and resources and money will remain an issue. I'm sure you already planned that?"
Altin nodded again and sputtered, wanting to end the experience already, "You'll have it, and yes." Thus, Miss Abdi stood without comment and slowly exited his office, which she forgot to close the door. Sighing, Altin stood up, made himself across the office, and went to close his door. However, as his face gandered out his door, he saw his secretary moving to hurriedly clean spilled water that Miss Abdi's wing bumped into as the water wandered close to the new telephone and its wire on her desk. For a moment, he went to offer assistance. However, he imagined the worst-case scenario if the water hit the wire, maybe causing a spark or fire- it gave him an idea. Quickly, he shut his door, shuffling to the map of Diria and staring at the lakes and rivers of the country. Nodding approvingly, he went to use his telephone. He had a call to make.
[ Diria will try to build at least 50 Low-End Offices, 100 Standard Offices, and 25 High-End offices yearly over the next three years. ]
A few polite knocks occurred at the door in front of him. He quickly shoved the documents in front of him into his desk drawer. "It's open!" Following his raspy voice escaping his mouth, a young female darasae secretary peeked her long muzzle through the crack through the door she made for herself. She stated the Federal Minister of Housing, Urban Development, and Building was here. Thus, Altin quickly gestured for her to let the minister in.
Now entering Altin's office was a far older female Mednusai, her antennas dropping and lowering to get through the door too short for her. It appeared she was in the later stages of her life, apparent from the greying of her exoskeleton and her bioluminescent fading orange. Held to her stomach was a cloth that she put on Altin's desk as she slowly sat in the chair across from him. Altin spoke, breaking the awkward silence as he heard the Mednusai settle into position. "Minster Darya Abdi, what a pleas-"
Miss Abdi let out a loud groan, a harsh crackle escaping her mouth as she moved her left hand dismissively. "Enough of that. What do you need, sir-?" Her eyes shifted to the nameplate on Altin's desk. "Sir Altin."
Altin internally felt bothered, he couldn't care about the formalities, but at least she could've remembered his name. Considering how they were both ministers, he, for a moment, thought about how she even got the job. Shrugging it off, Altin pulled out a paper from his desk's drawer. "I already talked to the Minister of Finance, so the funding, wherever it is, is there. Yet, I still need your say and signature."
Miss Abdi grabbed the paper, "Ah, Minister Mahomet Belmokhtar, what a pleasant man." Altin desperately tried not to sigh while waiting for her to read the paper. Her eyes squinted as he pulled it close to her muzzle. "Offices?"
Altin nodded, thinking about showing the diagrams he just put away for courtesy sakes but considering what he knew of Miss Abdi, nothing would come from it. Instead, he offered a quick summary. "Diversification, offices could allow more white-collar workers, jobs, and well GDP." As he spoke, it became apparent Miss Abdi didn't care.
Shortly after, she put the paper down, grabbed a pen from Altin's desk, scribbled her name nonchalantly, tossed the pen down, and leaned back. She then took a deep hoarse breath, seized her cloth from the desk, and wiped her mouth. "There, you have it. I'll need a copy on my desk. Get the long-nosed girl outside to deal with that. Oh, and resources and money will remain an issue. I'm sure you already planned that?"
Altin nodded again and sputtered, wanting to end the experience already, "You'll have it, and yes." Thus, Miss Abdi stood without comment and slowly exited his office, which she forgot to close the door. Sighing, Altin stood up, made himself across the office, and went to close his door. However, as his face gandered out his door, he saw his secretary moving to hurriedly clean spilled water that Miss Abdi's wing bumped into as the water wandered close to the new telephone and its wire on her desk. For a moment, he went to offer assistance. However, he imagined the worst-case scenario if the water hit the wire, maybe causing a spark or fire- it gave him an idea. Quickly, he shut his door, shuffling to the map of Diria and staring at the lakes and rivers of the country. Nodding approvingly, he went to use his telephone. He had a call to make.
[ Diria will try to build at least 50 Low-End Offices, 100 Standard Offices, and 25 High-End offices yearly over the next three years. ]
