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Zingapoer Blues

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外務部會議室 – 立法會大樓 – 永勝技術民國
Exterior Councillor's Chambers – – Technocratic Republic of Wing Sing


Two middle-aged Singlishmen sat in the high-backed leather chairs of the Exterior Councillor's conference room. They had already removed their jackets and ties, making themselves comfortable as they discussed what was to come.

“They're a little late, aren't they?” Asked the man at the head of the table. Fatter, older, balder and smoking a cigar, Councillor Robin Kwong held the seat of honour, right in front of the Technocracy's symbol. They were his chambers, after all.

“Mid-afternoon traffic coming in from the airport,” answered the other man, “You know how it is.” He had a full head of hair and wore some fashionably round spectacles. He was already helping himself to some brandy; Suen Kwok-nang, who never took a Dutch name, was the Chairman of the Republic. A ceremonial figurehead, he sat to the right of the Exteroir Councillor.

“Airport? Batavians can afford to fly?” The two enjoyed a hearty chuckle at the mean-spirited joke. It was ironic, though, since the Singlish were actually the frugal ones. The Technocracy had made special efforts to spend as little money on this state visit as possible. No lavish airport meeting-ceremony, no expensive military-escort motorcade, no parades and no banquets. It was the Singlish government's modus operandi: never let the state pay for something she doesn't have to. This was especially true when dealing with the former colonial power, Chairman Suen wanted to appear on equal footing with the westerners, or even in a superior position. There would be no Singlish supplication in this century.​
 
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One thing that the new democratic Batavian government did not change about how meetings were handled was the pomp and circumstance. Prime Minister Alex de Jonghe had spent the months since his Social Democratic Party's election in March travelling around the world, promoting Batavia as a country emerging from decades of isolation and brutality ready to take on business and new relations. The Griffin, the 747 jumbo jet coloured in the national airline KLM's livery for security reasons, was full of dignitaries, assistants and the PM's travelling press crew; journalists who followed him wherever he went.

The plane was for over 60 years the travelling symbol of the De Graaf communist regime. When you saw a KLM 747 being escorted by an air force in some far away airport, you knew that a high-ranking communist group was on board. Today, using the same aeroplane, the democratic entourage would be exiting.

De Jonghe, having slept little during the 17 hour flight, looked out his window below to the islands. The skyscrapers glistened in the pure sunlight and the airport began to come into view as the plane descended.

No welcoming party, he was told beforehand. It was their custom, he was told. He didn't complain. A caravan of Tysk Wirbewegen cars picked them up and brought them to the meeting place. Adjusting his tie and handing over the extremely heavy and thick dossier to an aide, he exited the vehicle and smiled and waived at the press crowd before entering the relatively tranquillity of the tower's lobby. They rode the lift to what appeared to be one of the highest floors. Most of his group remained below. It was just De Jonghe, Minister for Finances Karl van Leck and an aide. Interpreters wouldn't be necessary, so they were told.

The doors opened and they entered the room to be greeted by their hosts.
 
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Kwong and Suen stood up to greet the foreigners as the door opened up. They exchanged pleasantries, offered cigars and brandy, generally fostering a relaxed atmosphere. There were no press, just the three Batavians and two Singlishmen. Just five gentlemen having a polite discussion. They took their seats and offered some to De Jonghe's delegation.

"Welcome to Wing Sing," the Chairman said pointedly, taking another sip of his drink and reveling in the shared language. It wasn't often he got to deal with foreigners without an interpreter; in the choice of Dutch or Singlish, there weren't many speaking partners. "Or 'Zingapoer,' if you prefer." Suen found the Vlaams name very quaint.

"Let's not keep you gentlemen too long, though," Kwong added from the head of the table, "I understand Wingsing Windhoek Banking Corporation has prepared some sort of banquet for you over at Laan Gwai."

"And I think WSU is hosting a Dutch Culture Festival or some such thing," the Chairman nodded, "Or is that tomorrow?"​
 
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De Jonghe accepted a brandy while Van Leck lit up a cigar. The Zingapoer Dutch accent was funny to the three Batavians at first, but it was extremely easy to understand, much more so than the Saxon Dutch spoken in Vistrasia.

'A banquet? How nice, we are indeed hungry.' exclaimed Van Leck.

De Jonghe was surprised how informal the first encounter was. Perhaps the banquet would be more of an event. He didn't mind, of course, it was just so opposite the Batavian way of grandiose events and dinner parties.

'Gentlemen,' De Jonghe began as they slowly made their way down to the lobby once more to head to the banquet, 'were you planning to take us to this banquet via auto? My security team may have a fit, but if it is all right with both of you and if it is relatively secure, I would very much like to use the public transportation system. I have heard so many wonderful things about its functionality and efficiency. It could very well be an inspiration for Batavian cities as we modernise our systems at home.'

Van Leck rolled his eyes. There he goes again, acting all spontaneous and out of class. They were with two older gentlemen drinking brandy and smoking cigars. He hardly thought it prudent to ride the metro today.
 
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"Laan Gwai Tower is just about five or ten minutes from here, depending on how briskly you walk," Kwong answered with a chortle, "So no need for the metro just yet. But I think you'll rather enjoy the trip, a little stroll through the park goes by some of the preserved relics of Old Willemstad."

The doormen cleared the way for the quintet, opening the portals to the setting Singlish sun. "See, we still have the old statue of Willem van den Bosch," Suen pointed to the colonial effigy, visible on the end of the park, opposite the LegCo Tower.

"Now have you ever dealt with WWBC before?" Kwong asks with a warning tone, taking out his cigar, "They're pushy bastards. Once the Boss gets hold of you, we may not have another chance to talk this evening."

Suen waved away the idea, "Don't let Kwong scare you, they're not that bad. But I would ask why exactly they decided to prepare this kind of a welcome for you. I think the last time they opened the Jao Ballroom was for that Vangalan chap, what was his name?"

The Exterior Councillor shrugged as they crossed the street into the park, "I don't remember. I barely said two words to the gentleman while he was here."​
 
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Van Leck and De Jonghe both gave each other a quick, puzzled look as if to say these guys really just go with the flow, eh?. The stroll through the park was indeed enjoyable and De Jonghe couldn't help but marvel at the skyscrapers towering above the green space below.

While the Prime Minister continued to stare upwards his more down-to-business Minister went straight to asking questions as they neared their destination.

'I must ask, gentlemen, is there any relation to Batavia's Windhoek Island in the name of this bank?'

Van Leck finished his cigar and found a rubbish receptacle bin to dispose of his carcinogenic treat.
 
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"Yes, of course!" Kwong spouted excitedly, "WWBC is one of Wing Sing's great treasures from the days of the Empire,"

"The bosses over there like to call her the world's 'first global bank'," the Chairman added, rolling his eyes,

"Well they really were, after Pieter de Beaufort married Zoeng Mei and put the Bank together, it was the first time you could really do that sort of intercontinental banking," the Councillor insisted,

"Yes, yes. Which Bastiaan Lei movie was that?"

"Coins to a Fish,"

"Right, a lot more fistfights in that than what actually happened, but still a fine film." The Chairman was briefly distracted by a bronze cannon adorning the center of the park, "This is Stefan's Cannon, called 'the gun that won the city,'"

"In truth," Kwong shrugged, "It took a few more guns than that one,"

"Of course. Anyway, it was fired every day at two PM during the colonial days. But it went silent after the Technocracy was founded in '39. Now it sits there as a monument,"

"But back to the Bank, the WWBC was so powerful that back before the Crisis, people would just refer to it as 'The Bank.'"

"It's probably obvious that the good Exterior Councilor used to work for WWBC," the Chairman smirked, "Full disclosure."

"It's a fine institution," Kwong nodded to the Prime Minister, "And rich in history."​
 
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A fine institution...the two Batavians both pondered on this thought as they entered the lobby. De Jonghe was eager to begin. Small talk was always nice to start off, but it was time for business. Zingapoer and its companies would make perfect business partners. Whatever pumped cash into Batavië's hungry and young economy was good and based on the offices that De Jonghe had already seen here, these former dependants were now the ones with the deep pocketbooks.

'Shall we meet these gentlemen and begin then?' Van Leck made the push as he, too, appeared to be eager.
 
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It wasn't long before the stroll through the park ended at the base of the tallest building in Wing Sing and the headquarters of the Wingsing Windhoek Banking Corporation.

"You can tell it was designed with an old Chinese Pagoda in mind," the Chairman said, staring straight up at the towering monolith, "And you can tell how talented Singlish architects are."

As the small party approached the doors, a pair of Uroduah guards, dressed in colonial garb, opened the way. Inside, a red carpet had been rolled out and lined with immaculately made-up bank personnel. "Welkom bij Wing Sing!" they called out in unison, showing the way to the elevator banks. The men in the lineup snapped their fists to their hearts, "And it is our pleasure to host the Chairman and our illustrious External Councillor!" They bellowed in Singlish.

The group strode down the carpet toward the waiting elevators, admiring the colonial relics the bank had laid out in the tower's cavernous grand lobby. A pretty young lady, dressed up in a very feminine business suit and hair pulled back just a bit too tight caught up with the advancing group of officials. She had a small microphone on her lapel and carried a smartphone in her left hand,

"Sirs," she noted that there were no women in the party, "Floortje Lim, the Bank has asked me to chaperone you to the banquet we've prepared." She led them into an elevator and deftly operated the controls herself, "We're going to the Jao Ballroom on the 26th floor. The Bank only opens our most luxurious ballroom for our most important guests."

"Like the Chairman of the Republic," Suen smiled,

"Of course, Sir," Floortje giggled, "The Boss has asked that the comfort of our Batavian guests be our first priority, however. As I'm sure it is for the government too."​
 
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The two Batavians were impressed with the extravagance, much more to their liking than the very quiet government-led greeting. The lift ride was quick and arriving on the 26th floor they were immeditaly greeted with a splendid smell of the evening's specialties.

'Will there be time to discuss business with these gentlemen over dinner, or is it frowned upon to indulge in work when enjoying such delicacies?' asked Van Leck as he entered the rooom right after the PM, immediately seeking out the food rather than the bankers.
 
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"The Boss will be arriving shortly," Floortje answered, "And I'm sure he'll be happy to discuss any topic of your choice once he does."

The enormous baroque ballroom was already full of Singlish and foreign big shots, from the banking and financial world as well as outside it. Ice sculptures of Batavians and Singlish dripped slowly under the chandeliers, fountains flowed with different varieties of chocolate as bartenders mixed up cocktails at an open bar.

"Help yourself to the buffet, gentlemen," The Chairman said, "I recommend the squark. A true Singlish delicacy that I imagine isn't too common in the west."

Techno remixes of classic Batavian music played softly in the background, "And until the Boss shows up and starts the ceremonies, feel free to pop open that briefcase," the Exterior Councillor said, picking up a plate, "I assume you didn't come all this way for a tour and a free meal."​
 
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Van Leck went straight for the booze and food, also introducing himself to the 'big-shots' and showing off his charm and natural ease with strangers. De Jonghe took a moment to orient himself. The techno remix was that of Jens Flemberg, the most famous Batavian composer, ruler of the orchestras in the late 1700s. He resisted his natural tendency to cringe. Any true Batavian hated to hear anything but the original forms of their beloved classical music.

The briefcase lay upon a small and ornately decorated table. He had no idea what it contained. He opened it and peered inside...
 
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The Prime Minister's face was suddenly bathed in a rosy glow as he popped open the case. Light from the chandeliers above was transformed by the magnificent object within. De Jonghe was looking at a football-sized ruby-colored translucent orb.

Kwong smiled widely as the Batavian leader took in the view, "I'm obligated to inform you that it was donated to the National Department of the Exterior by Soenji Low-Emissivity Glass Corporation, with compliments to the new government of Batavia."

The inside of the case also had a handsome plaque, with Chinese and Dutch text, "The Singlish Dragon offers one of her orbs to the reborn people of Batavia, wishing them ten thousand years of luck and prosperity."

The Chairman returned, sucking down a squark roll, "You showed him the orb already!" he cheered, "Lovely thing, isn't it? Orbs have a very special significance in Wing Sing, you know. And the color red is especially auspicious. Though I suppose you folks who endured communism have a different relationship with the color..."

"Here we're offering you a way to see it in a while new light!" The chief diplomat salvaged the thought, "Wealth, prosperity, strength."​
 
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De Jonghe resisted the sudden urge to caress the orb. It was probably worth an impressive amount of rand.

'This will fit perfectly in the new museum being built in Vlaanderen. The Batavian History Museum. The section of colonisation and renewed relations with Zingapoer will certainly have this as a centre piece, highlighting our new-found friendship and future together.'

De Jonghe accepted a glass of wine from a server and after tasting it, he turned to the Zingapoeran Prime Minister.

'I must say, Prime Minister, that despite the size of this wonderful country it is quite obvious to see how successful and prosperous it is. I was hoping to discuss ways that we can have our countries cooperate on not just economic terms, but also practical government matters, such as visas and culture exchanges. Did you have anything particular in mind to begin with?'
 
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"Yes, it would be nice if the orb could go with you back to Batavia without getting a visa in advance," the Chairman said, eating another roll.

"But of course, all are welcome in Wing Sing at any time," Councillor Kwong added, looking away from Suen, "In fact, you may want to keep an eye on your retinue, sir. You know they're eligible to take Singlish civilianship at their pleasure. If you haven't been treating them well..."

"Though I'm sure you've been treating them just fine," the Chairman interrupted, "We'd still like the opportunity to visit Vlaanderen at will,"

"And these bankers would love to reunite the Wingsing park of the Bank with the Windhoek, I'm sure," Kwong took a drink of water.

"The University's development studies department is particularly interested in opening a satellite campus in Batavië. Working out a scheme to make it comfortable for Singlish students to carry out research in your country would make us quite happy."​
 
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'A satellite campus in the outskirts of Vlaanderen would be an excellent idea. There Batavians could also study. There is plenty of room around the city so long as it won't be placed in the centre. The city's overground and tram network is being expanded, so students would have easy access to the downtown areas.'

De Jonghe finally removed his gaze from the mesmerising orb.

'I think founding a new joint Batavian-Wing Sing university would also be a good cultural connector. The Batavian University of Wing Sing, open to all students, right in the city.'

Van Leck, setting down his drink, chimed in. 'As far as visas go, the NC is currently debating an open borders system, and therefore the NC would have to approve a removal of visas together, as we would have, essentially, one common external border. But I doubt that Wing Sing would face any troubles in that regard.'
 
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"And we will of course be happy to open a new Embassy of Wing Sing in Vlaanderen," Kwong nodded approvingly,

"Once we find the funding," The Chairman added, referring to the National Department, "Finance is always giving us fits. Finding funding for any kind of new university project like that would be quite a pain,"

"Unless it's private," the Exterior Councillor nudged toward the bankers with a knowing smile before turning back to the Batavians, "Unwritten rule: the Technocracy isn't allowed to pay for anything here. We don't have to. Because they are more than willing to pay. If CLP Group can put their logo on one of the dormitories, then we might be in business."

The two DJs ceased their remixing of western classicals with a swift scratch of their faux records,

"Sounds like the Boss finally decided to show up," Suen shrugged.​
 
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The lights dimmed and a thrumming bassline built the tension as all eyes turned to the end of the ballroom, where the two black-suited DJs were directing the new addition to the party.

"It is our pleasure to introduce," they began in robotic unison, directing spotlights toward the stage, from which steam began to lightly spill, "The Chairman and Chief Executive of the Wingsing Windhoek Banking Corporation, the one and only Boss: Dedalus Laang!"

A hydraulic platform brought the ceiling down toward the stage, allowing the Boss to descend into the party from on high, waving to the applauding crowd. He wore a signature fusion of traditional Chinese and western-style clothes, with brightly colored silken fabrics hanging loosely off his slim body. "Good evening, good evening, gentlemen!" He called out with an ear-to-ear smile below his bulging, egg-shaped head and thick-rimmed glasses. "Thank you for being patient with me, you know how traffic can be this time of day." His voice boomed throughout the ballroom, amplified by the DJs' speakers.

"Let me extend a special welcome to tonight's guests of honor," he stepped down off the platform toward the foreign delegation, spotlights following the Boss's every move, "Our most exalted friends from the Batavian Republic. Give them some applause, friends!" The crowd of elites roared, "And to the honorable Councillor Kwong and our respected Chairman Suen. It's always a pleasure to host our nation's leaders." The Boss shook hands with both of them as the applause started to die down, "An enthusiastic welcome all around."​
 
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De Jonghe and Van Leck were amazed by the contrast between their greeting received from the Zingapoerian government and the bank. The bank had turned the evening into the week's event. The two Batavians were certainly used to being in the spotlight, if not usually on the domestic stage. Van Leck, for example, was frequently picked on by the domestic tabloids and papers, his images from the weekly 'Question Period' in parliament often on the front-page. De Jonghe, also a frequently seen figure in the Batavian and regional media, was used to the attention given to him the last few months as he jetted around the world, begging for investment and loans in a somewhat dignified and smooth manner.

De Jonghe stood, smiled and held up his champagne glass for a toast.

'I would like to propose a toast to our warm and generous hosts of the Wing Sing Windhoek Banking Corporation, to the Government of Zingapoer and to all of our prospective business and cultural exchange partners. We are so glad to be here tonight, to rekindle the cultural connections and eternal flame between us that was for so long extinguished. Proost!' he sipped his drink with the rest of the crowd. As they applauded he thought to himself how wonderful it was that they had all understood his Dutch and then his thoughts went farther. Once of the wealthiest and largest financial centres of the world was a Dutch-influenced country. He was very pleased.
 
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