Chapter One Prime Minister
If someone had asked an average person to describe Eugenia Maversot in one word, it was most likely that they would have used the word vicious. Of course, Eugenia was rarely ever described in just one word. She was the illustrious, beautiful, elegant, accomplished, efficient Prime Minister of the Galaxy. That wasn’t the light-weight job of the president of the galaxy who was just a washed-up economist. It was a grave insult to describe her in one word, and therefore she chose to not interact with average people.
Eugenia Maversot knew that she was vicious. She quite enjoyed that part of herself. She was thinking of the wonderful feeling of being vicious while she slipped on her royal blue suit with the cybernetic arms. It was the latest in fashion and came in extremely handy. She had intended the pun of course. Adding to her vicious look were the Zanthurian porcupine pointy-toed heels.
She walked into the offices of the Ministry, a giant gloss conical building on Nimtrop Epsilon. Inside her secretary waited for her, hanging from one of the stone pillars near its desk. It had been four years with the same secretary, a wombat-like creature from Triadkor. Eugenia Maversot had no clue as to the gender of the creature as of yet, and made no attempt to find out. She simply called it “secretary”, because the creature had a name that was impossible for a person with only one tongue, or even two, to pronounce. Eugenia knew that if she attempted she would simply end up saying, “Do you think I could borrow some feces?”
It was not a good idea for her to attempt speaking Triadkorian, or a lot of the languages of the Galactic Union. It was the reason she had declared English to be the official language of the galaxy three years before. Although a thousand billion people had ended up having to learn a new language, and standards and signposts everywhere had been changed…. It was the best decision she had made. People with less than three tongues everywhere were very grateful.
Eugenia had been prime minister for five years. It had been a wonderful five years, because there were few decisions to be made and a salary of ten million quintars per year which she didn’t have to use anyway. Everything the Prime Minister wanted, she got. So she chose not be vicious and stayed mostly out of peoples’ way. In all, she was the best prime minister they had ever had.
The parliament of the Galactic Union was a group of representatives from the ten thousand planets that chose to be in the Union. Mostly they were all people that couldn’t make toast without setting a building on fire. So they were all sent into parliament, where things only happened once in an infinity and no decision were ever carried out. A lot of the buildings on Nimtrop Epsilon caught fire, but people on other planets were quite alright with that.
The old prime minister, a giant slug that just passed a lot of decrees on everyone staying hydrated passed away suddenly when his housekeeper accidentally turned off the humidifier. The parliament was left to find a new prime minister. They started a search spanning the two ends of the galaxy, and searched endlessly. Their wives all told them they were wasting their time, but none of the parliament members listened. A moment of brilliant stupidity came over a three-headed dingo creature that claimed they did not stop their search because they were not intelligent. Another suggested that intelligent people listened to their wives, and therefore their wives must be infinitely wise. So when ten thousand lightbulbs of idiocy lit up and blinded people out of their sanity, the decision was taken to find the most accomplished, intelligent man in the world and make his wife the prime minister.
Eugenia Maversot’s husband was a man of enormous accomplishment, intelligence and distinction and such inconsequence to this story that this writer no longer desires to waste any more ink on describing him. As it was, Eugenia felt much the same way. As many people can attest, distinguished, accomplishment and intelligent people are very often (not always) incredibly boring and dutiful. She had been at an awards ceremony, her husband on stage receiving an award that most people received posthumously when she had suddenly disappeared.
The parliament was quite surprised to see the woman that their computer had determined to be the wife of the most intelligent, distinguished man in the Universe. She had been teleported in from London, wearing a shiny metallic gold dress and chandelier earrings. Her first action had been to take off her stiletto heels and use them as weapons. The parliamentarians thought it to be a very intelligent course of action. She was immediately sworn in, after changing her name from a very American Michelle Something-or-Another to the far more Galactic Eugenia Maversot.
The thing that they had not anticipated was that the one unintelligent decision of Eugenia Maversot’s husband had been marrying his wife. It was the result of an ill-fated Las Vegas convention, a spiked drink, and a Luau-themed chapel that had been unfortunately close. He was not a man to quit things and so they stuck at it. Most days they had maintained a long-distance relationship of choice, with her in New York and him in London. Eugenia was now six light years away from her husband, the longest distance her relationship had ever been. She could finally say that she was happily married.
The wombat like thing came into her office and placed her breakfast on the desk. It was a strange fare, a salad of Urti fruits. They looked like mold, smelled of swamp, and tasted like rotten wood. The only reason she ate them every day was that they had the very handy quality of eliminating fat from the body. The wombat was wearing a surgical mask, but Eugnia ignored it. It was the nearest the secretary ever came to making a joke.
She swallowed the Urti fruits, making sure that they spent the smallest amount of time on the surface of her tongue. After she was done she ordered the wombat to arrange a meeting with her hairdresser. Her hairdresser was a former parliament member who had regained some of his sanity. As he had not regained all of it, he had decided that he would make a good hairdresser. This would’ve been a perfectly normal decision, if he hadn’t had a morbid fear of scissors. Other people did the cutting for him while he supervised from twelve feet away.
He walked in with his assistant, a woman with light-green skin wearing two sets of cybernetic arms along with her two sets of real ones. She seemed like a very efficient person, and smiled in a kind sort of way at her. Eugenia sat down on her reclining chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t notice average people and she didn’t like being noticed by average people when they were near her. Distant admiration was so much less intrusive.
“Remember what I asked for Kragot (pronounced Krag-o), I wanted honey blonde.”
The parliamentarianism had yet to wear off. He focused more on the honey and less on the blonde. She woke up two hours later. Her hair no longer touched her shoulders, no longer even touched her neck. She would so hate it if the former parliamentarian had given her some sort of punk look. Hair needed to be beyond her shoulders, according to the latest edition of Gorgeous Galacticans, a monthly for the richest and most self-absorbed. The exclusivity of the subscription was achieved by coating the glossy magazine sheets in a glossier layer of gold. Very chic.
The green lady very efficiently placed a hand mirror in front of her. Her hair reminded her of honey. And bees. And wax. It rested on top of her head in one gorgeous layered hive, complete with tiny loops that looked like entrances to the hive. It was, in short, not good. The green lady looked quite proud though, and Eugenia reconsidered. She decided to ban the Gorgeous Galacticans magazine. That would solve the problem. Or at least no one would dare to put her on the worst-dressed page.
Eugenia turned her head from side to side slowly, enjoying the altitude that her new hair brought her. And in the end, it was honey blonde. The green lady added a dusting of silver glitter to her hair, the finishing touches. The former parliamentarian looked on and nodded appreciatively.
“Well, I’ll try it out, I suppose.”
“Madame Prime Minister,” the green woman began. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”
“I’m sure it is,” she said, shooting the woman one vicious smile and walking out the door. The press were at the door, all with their attachable camera-helmets and mobile tripod studios. To anyone else it would’ve been a nuisance. One of the news channels had already set up a nice brunch arrangement outside the salon. Eugenia walked over and settled down onto the plush peach-colored chair. Across from her was the famous Dank Mergil, the latest phenomenon in news hosting. He was an ethereal fairy creature, his skin translucent and shimmering. Eugenia was sure the shimmering was just artfully applied body glitter.
“So, welcome to our little show Ms. Maversot,” Dank began, a lopsided smile on his face at an angle of 25.6 degrees. It was the perfect angle, and Eugenia smiled amiably in return. He motioned his hands towards her new hair. “That’s quite a statement you’re making.”
Eugenia wondered what statement she was making. Was it “Save the Bees”? Was it “Keep Your Hair Out of Your Face”? It might even be “Let Hairdressers Go Crazy Despite the Consequences”. She just smiled again. It was the best thing to keep silent and look mysterious. Dank just grinned, and a million hearts, and some livers melted across the galaxy.
She took a sip of her tea, disgusting stuff, smiled and asked, “What would that be?”
“Of course, unity!”
Might as well let the guy continue. If it worked, she got the credit. If it didn’t, she could always give one of her vicious smiles and say he was taking a haircut far too seriously. She inclined her head to the side and listened as Dank continued.
“It’s a brilliant statement, Madame Prime Minister. The Galactic Union should function like your Earthly beehives. We should strive for the common cause of our development, nurture our young, prosper, all under your guidance. Yes, quite brilliant.”
“It simply popped into my mind,” Eugenia answered. “But I’m sure that many of us share this sentiment.”
“Always humble, Ms. Maversot.”
* * *
Gorgeous Galacticans worshipped the ground she walked on. They should anyway, Eugenia thought as she walked back into her office. Her secretary swung in, a chugga in her hand. It was a drink heart-achingly similar in function to coffee, yet tasted like stale manure. So, it was just bad coffee with a different name.
She spent the rest of the day using the advanced technology of her office to use a simulator to try on different outfits and looked over photographs and videos of clumsy infant animals of all kinds. It was her usual work day. But an unexpected visitor came by her doors at sundown, bearing a juicy secret and wearing a smug grin.