Posted by Pierson's Porter presents a brand new story! on May 09, 2001 at 22:10:16:
The initial polls were positive. They said that the vast majority of Parodiopolians approved of their newly islanded home becoming an independent nation under Pierson’s Porter.
But the Mayor ignored the polls. He no longer needed them. He knew his people. He knew that they loved him. And he decided to prove it to himself.
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An hour of walking and eavesdropping had told him that the people of Parodiopolis cared much more about themselves than the state. There was very little discussion of the recent Declaration of Independence (though what little there was, it was all positive), but a great deal about individual buildings and streets. Many were pleased to have a great view of the ocean, instead of downtown Gothametropolis York. Several enjoyed looking up at the buildings, now all the windows were shiny, instead of dull. Everyone was ecstatic about the repeal of all taxes. No one had expressed a desire to flee on one of the ferries that had been set up, or to take advantage of the extremely generous relocation handout. It was all what he expected to hear.
The Mayor decided to try a coffee shop for an actual conversation before returning to City Hall.
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The Bean and Doughnut Coffee Bar, in the lobby of the Twin Parody Tower, was busy, as usual.
An average-looking man took a seat. A waitress sauntered over to him.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
“Coffee. Black,” he replied curtly, wishing that she would get out of the way of his listening devices. She went off to fulfill his order. He listened to the various conversations. More of the same.
The waitress returned.
“Here you go, Mr. Mayor,” she said.
He looked up at her, quite shocked.
“How did you…?” He quickly checked some instruments. “Oh.”
“I hope that won’t effect my tip,” the Probability Dancer said sweetly.
“Hmmm… I suppose I should start giving them…”
Dancer resolved to spit in his next cup.
The Mayor continued, “I hope that you don’t try anything… heroic.”
“You really shouldn’t phrase it like that… but I’m not going to do anything to you. The people seem to like you… And I’m not sure if anything you’re doing is illegal…”
“The UN is doing their best to sort it out… Most counties realize that it behooves them to be one my good side. Only the US objects… they seem to object to statements of liberty…”
“Ironic.”
“No, typical.”
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Fin Fang Foom stood on the Gothametropolis York docks.
Silent.
The massive 130 story City Hall reflected the various shades of orange, red, and pink from the sunset.
It was quite beautiful. The architecture was superb; the City Hall was an inspiring structure.
But Finny, though capable of appreciating such things, saw only a massive mar on the skyline.
He watched.
“Why ain’t we doing anything?” Trickshot expressed a common frustration.
“We’re waiting.”
“What? While he’s doing god knows what to the people?”
“We know exactly what he’s doing. He’s withholding nothing. We’ve got hundreds of sources and observers inside and outside the city. The citizens are in better shape than ever.”
“But we know he’s evil!” the angry archer interjected.
“We know that we can’t trust him. That’s different. In any event, we’re focusing on Gothametropolis. God knows that there’s plenty for us to do.”
“And we just do nothing for Parodiopolis?”
“We wait.”
“I still don’t know why.”
Neither did Fin Fang Foom.