The Illusion Of Control

Amira’s POV

“What is this I’m hearing Amira?” my father asks raising his voice.

“Father, I was just trying to be honest,” I reply weakly, knowing that I had screwed up.

“In front of the press? Seriously? You’re acting like you’re doing this for the first time.” He goes through the papers of the conference, giving them a once over. “And who prepared these?”

“Amin. And before you jump onto conclusions, I went through them the night before.”

“Amira you know we are the ones in power. We can’t just go bashing our courts and the federal bureaus like that. And especially not the media, since it is because of them our party gained most recognition.”

“Yea? And what about the illegal funding case the judiciary system found out about? Are we going to let it go into silence and watch the rightful property of the public go into the hands of these crooks? It’s not even about them, think about the privilege it would bring to our party.”

“And, what about the case that they have filed against us? Who’s going to bring the funds for that? Not to mention the negative media coverage we will be getting every week.” He speaks more to himself than me.

“Well maybe if we stopped shoving money into the hands of our coalition, we would be able to do that and a lot more, and remind our party members who’s the actual boss instead of cowering like cowards—“ I stopped myself before I could say anything else, but the damage had already been done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just don’t bother me for a while.” He said rubbing his temples. He looked more tired than ever, and I felt guilt creeping over me like a cold blanket, knowing full well what he was facing and the situation we were facing as a government as a whole. I did not want to burden him with any more worries that he had to but I was tired by all of it myself, especially our good for nothing coalition who was nothing but paid puppets of our bitter rival.

I retreated back to the confines of my room; anywhere else in this ostentatious display of wealth and power felt too foreign for me, after her passing away. But that was what we were here to fix, wasn’t it? To break this elitist system and replace it with a new more just one.

I was never this naïve, but I don’t know what has gotten into me lately.

That wretched dream.

Climbing down the white marble stairs, my hand trails down the gold railing as I make way for the garden where we planted the seeds together. The flower bed looks as lovely as ever, by the designated planting of the gardener, each of their color were organized into rows, contrasting and complimenting each other perfectly. Memories of happier days crossed my mind as I took a stroll on the soft grass, as I was reminded wistfully of my long walk with her hand in mine and Salman and me playing when there was no ulterior motive of control in our lives and beings. I guess we grew up too early and too fast, and the suffering we endured in our times came to define who we are.

And I never forgave and I never forgot.

***

My driver opens the door of my car, as I step on the tarmac. The cameras go wild clicking away at each movement of mine, but they don’t bother me as I make my way through the stream of hungry journalists, the guards surrounding me, making an effective barrier against them.

“What does your last statement at the press mean?”

“Are you leaving the government to join the opposition?”

“Are you resigning from your position as the youth wing president?”

“Is it true that you are retiring from politics altogether?”

“When are you and Salman getting married?”

I almost laugh at the last question before I finally enter my office building, the insides welcoming me with a gush of cold air, with chillers blasting from all ends making the heat outside virtually imperceptible. The receptionist at the desk gives me a smile acknowledging my arrival, a smile which I return. My heels click away at the pristine white floors, as I make my way towards my main office.

I take a seat behind my desk on my leather revolving chair and inhale the familiar artificially manipulated air, and let my eyes and adjust to the familiar black and white surroundings. The edges and lines sharp, clearly defining the different objects. So clear, and so unlike my life. I flip open the file on my desk, and take a look into the latest demand from our good for nothing coalition. I can’t believe it. They are demanding complete authority over the NH19 project, the latest national highway that our company just got a contract for. As if half of the party funding wasn’t enough to fill their endless pits of stomach. If we were going to use the public money to bribe a party for establishing our government, then we’re just as corrupt as the other political organizations.

Amin appears at my side with a file in his hand, his face showcasing accomplishment but also apprehension.

“I presume you have the information you were asked to acquire?”

“I do, ma’am,” he says, as we enter the square room, the black tinted glass of my desk gleaming in the numerous bright lights installed in the ceiling. I take a seat on my leather chair seat, the cushion pressing down under my weight. I take a moment to appreciate the surroundings. Black and white, the lines clean, distinguishing between boundaries, nothing blurred in between, so clear and so unlike my life. “Though, I fear this might just be the tip of the iceberg.”

“You fear, truly my friend,” I say, quietly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are those the reports?” I point towards the file in this hand.

“Yes they are.” He places them on the desk in front of me.

“Does anybody else know?”

“Only those that we trust. And those that we don’t can be won over in a hundred and one ways.”

“I’m sure they can,” I smile at his enthusiasm and loyalty. His silver grey eyes glimmered in the light, syncing with the suit he has on.

“Would you like me to do anything else?”

“I will inform you if I do. You may leave, now.”

“Thank you.”

I open the file and brace myself for the plunge I’m about to take. There is no turning back now.

*The Secretary*

Amin’s POV

I close the door behind me, trying to keep my cool. Each cell of my body was filled with anticipation of what has already begun. I give my office chair a one-eighty degree turn, to face the large window giving me the view of what was the most posh point of the city, which was considered to be the business hub of the area, where all the biggest contracts were signed by the country’s best business men. It was funny how skyscrapers and smooth roads huddled in one part of the area could be used to turn a blind eye to the poverty and injustice of the rest of the country. Ignorance, truly, was bliss.

I adjust my position so I’m away from the prying eyes of the camera in this God forsaken place. I mean, I haven’t forsaken it, so hasn’t my boss but that doesn’t count, does it? Not yet, anyway.

By boss I mean my real boss. Not the bitch I just made a fool of.

I mean, how dumb can these Promised Ones get? I haven’t found anything special about Amira, and I doubt the others will be any different. Much like other human beings, they get swayed by a pretty face, a good attitude and a few clever quotes. All of the things which I thankfully had, making me the best man for the job. Above all, I had loyalty and an unwavering motive.

My phone beeps, notifying a message.

“We are watching, and now so are they.”

A smile finds its way to my lips. This is easier than I thought.