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Abraham Solomon was walking with determination towards a tall building in the middle of a luxurious park. Only wealthy personalities could afford more than an acre of forest or garden, and whomever owned the Capitoline were more than just rich; they had to be able to afford a 280-acre park around the building. Which suited just fine Abraham; he would have nothing to do with miserable and struggling citizens, barely able to pay for their rent, yet with no fighting desires to rise above their fates. A Ph.D. in Political Science in his pocket, he was going to put it in use for people who stood a chance at winning goals. People like President Robert Bohm.

Abraham smiled under the bright sun as he recalled briefly how two weeks ago, the President’s counsel accepted his request for the post of Chief Advisor of Public Relations. Such a post allowed him constant meetings with one of the most powerful man on Terra, a luxurious suite, as well as a luxurious office in the Capitoline. In short, he would be part of the elite. He thought about high-school, and the brutes who always mocked him, how he would always be a nobody. He thought with joy at how much he would love to see their faces as he was about to sit in the most powerful office of the country while they were wasting their lives and diplomas away with meagre jobs at meagre grocery stores.

As he stepped upon the grounds of the Capitoline, the sun began to shine with the light of a thousand fires. Besides some touristic hotspots, the Capitoline and the White Castle were the only buildings and grounds allowed to be standing amidst the park, while the other cityscapes were forbidden to overview. Which meant that no buildings could bring shadows over this sacred ground.

When he finally reached the stairs leading to the entrance of the Capitoline, the doors opened, and an old man stepped out, dressed in a distinguished grey-blue suit, walking down the stairs to meet him.

“Mr. Solomon?” the old man asked, his heavy Britannian accent setting him apart with the Americani environment.

He was rather tall, slim, and though his drawn-back grey hairs and the lines around his eyes described very clearly that he was entering his seventh decade, his grey eyes were sharp, his voice was clear, deep, and free from the burden of age. His movements were so agile and quick that Abraham wondered how old this man truly was.

“Yes, it’s me,” Abraham replied.

“Ah, welcome to the Capitoline,” said the old man as he extended his hand. “My name is Randall Redspear, the President’s Counsellor. I trust the flight here went well?”

“An honour to meet you, Mr. Redspear,” Abraham replied as he shook his hand. “And yes, it was very comfortable, thank you very much.”

Randall looked at him in mild surprise.

"Forgive me, but you have a firm handshake. Rare have I seen that in a young man such as yourselves.

Abraham stifled a laugh.

"Thirty-seven years is hardly young, Mr. Redspear."

"When you get my age, Mr. Solomon, it is."

The old man looked to the sky, and then laid a hand on Abraham’s elbow as he invited him to walk down the stairs with him.

“It’s a beautiful day, let us walk outside to discuss business matters,” Randall suggested in a manner that indicated he wouldn’t accept a refusal.

“Yes, sir,” Abraham accepted, astonished at the old man’s very firm grip on his elbow.

“You’ll forgive me if I cut the formalities short; time is essential. So here’s how it works around here,” Randall explained while they walked in the gardens. “Everyone working at the Capitoline gives their reports on the citizens and the country’s economy to you. Your job is to analyze the data, and devise the best way to shape both worlds according to the orders you will be given by me, and me alone. Is that clear?”

“Of course, sir,” Abraham acknowledged. “So basically, when the President is not around, you’re the boss.”

“As his Counsellor, that’s exactly what I do. Is that going to be an issue?” Randall asked, scrutinizing Abraham.

Abraham looked at the old man, surprised by the direct answer. He smiled, as he could feel the predatorial instinct in the Counsellor’s cold and icy stare; it was the look of someone who never lost, which made him quite enthusiastic.

“Not one bit, sir. It makes my job easier.”

Randall smiled despite himself.

“Then we won’t have any problems; I look forward to working together.”

"So do I, but might I inquire about the Vice-President? I was under the impression he was the second boss."

"Traditionally, yes, but John Carrie is notoriously detached from domestic duties; he prefers using his powers in foreign policies and diplomatic agreements."

"Quite rightfully too; he's quite skilled at it from what I heard."

Randall laughed softly.

"Yes, but also a pain in the ass when he deigns to point back his nose here."

Abraham politely laughed back, although he made sure to keep the information in the back of his mind.

As they continued walking, both watched as the world around them kept moving forward. The buzzing noise of the flying cars high up in the skies, angry drivers clamouring their horns in protest of the poor skills of the other drivers. The never-ending going and coming of those mechanical devices were like the mechanism of what should have been a well-oiled clock; only, the clock was far from well-oiled, and many mechanical parts were too defective to be either salvageable or useful: this was how Abraham perceived this world. If his interview went well, he finally stood a chance at executing the long overdue repair of the clock.

“I read in your resume that you had the highest grades in Political Science, and even the Pi Gamma Alpha nominated you as honorary President,” Randall said appreciatively.

“Yes, sir,” Abraham simply replied.

“Why political science?”

“Because it’s the core behind society as we know it; what shapes it… and what makes it fall,” Abraham answered.

“Indeed. I myself never learned it, but I have heard of its merits. Something intrigues me, though. It is written that you taught, and later advised on, Chaos Theory; how does it relate to political science?” Randall asked.

“Simple. Political science deals with the future. But in order to shape the future, one must also know about the past. Chaos theory deals with the variables in a chosen path, and how does it get out of control. By extension, we also learn about all the currents that shaped history as we know it: all the variables in an otherwise solid plan that changed history a thousand times.”

Randall looked at Abraham with acute curiosity; he then asked:

“One more thing: in one of your essays, you described that politics relied merely on two factors: economy and psychology, and wielding both carefully, one could rule an entire country with nothing else. Why is that?”

“Is it a trick question?” Abraham asked, unsure if the old man was joking, as the answer seemed quite obvious to him.

“You tell me.”

“Very well, the answer is very simple. Both are distinct factors in life, yet they are complementary; they both impact on human lives and society. Change an aspect in either of them, and you’ll get specific reactions accordingly. For example, let’s say that you wish to start a civil war: raise the cost of food and living by fifteen percent each three months, thus inflating by sixty percent the economy at the end of the year. The psychological implications felt by the population every three months will become even more instinctive than the previous semester. Hunger, living cost and economic insecurity will corrupt the instincts of even the most peaceful mind. In order to survive, the population will see no other solution but to end this ever-increasing degradation of their social conditions. Knowing human nature, it lets us predict that what would be considered the best way to go against this economical crisis will be to attack the cause of it all, the government responsible for those raises. By simply raising the cost of life by fifteen percent each three months, you thus enable uprisings and the beginning of civil war in a mentally destabilized people.

» Now, if these elements are already present and you want to achieve allegiance of the people to your party, prevent any success of the opposing party, and still make a profit, it is as simple as creating the civil war. While the opposing party upholds the fifteen percent raise, you lower yours by five percent, bringing it back down to ten percent. Basic psychology demonstrates that human’s greed allied to a feeling of being heard and cared for will undoubtedly attract the population to join your side and discard in hate the opposing party. Now, in theory, you will make a lesser profit over the population, but, time will play in your favour. You will start by gaining more members, whom will spread word of the efforts you do for the people. This free publicity will bring in more and more people and in the end, as your party is larger than the opposition, so will the amount of money, or power, collected. By doing so you will have achieved a complete destabilization of the government; achieved a complete ‘image’ change of your party and won over the population, while still making a sizeable profit without them realizing it. From there, possibilities are endless.”

“Well said; I’m impressed,” Randall couldn’t help but let showcase a proud smile; Abraham knew he had won him over.

“That’s the reason for what I wrote. Psychology and economy are the perfect tools to tame and control the people. My example was a very narrow-minded one, and extremely basic compared to the true possibility of its mechanics. And since humans, well, most of them, have never evolved beyond instincts, the elites in possession of these tools will never lose in their endeavours.”

“Then, the members of the council chose you well for the post,” Randall complimented Abraham while taking a hold of his shoulder one more time as he led him back to the Capitoline. “Now that your evaluation is complete, let’s introduce you to the whole presidential council!”

Abraham smiled as he thought how the old man was a much better company than all the worthless and poor so-called friends he’s been with. He was truthfully looking forward to working for him.