Chapter 548 - 258: Crystal Gavel
Harrisburg, the Pennsylvania State Capitol.
Modeled after St. Peter’s Cathedral, this magnificent building has stood for a century as a symbol of power in Pennsylvania.
The enormous dome, the marble pillars, and the sound of leather shoes echoing through the corridors all spoke to the solemnity and dignity of the place.
This is where laws are born.
This is the last bastion of order.
But today, a strange smell hung in the air of this bastion.
The door to the Office of the Acting President of the Senate was wide open.
Several movers in blue overalls bustled in and out, sweating profusely.
They were carrying a massive mahogany desk, carefully maneuvering it outside.
This desk had witnessed the signing of countless bills and just as many dirty political deals.
"Be careful! That’s an antique!"
A middle-aged man in a dark gray suit followed behind them, constantly wiping away sweat with a handkerchief in his hand.
His name was Bernard, the chief of staff handpicked by Saint Cloud himself.
His job was simple: make sure the new Speaker, William Saint Cloud, didn’t bring the whole house down.
But on the very first day on the job, Bernard already felt like he was about to have a heart attack.
"Throw it out."
A languid voice rang out from inside the office.
William Saint Cloud stood in the center of the room.
Even indoors, with the curtains drawn tight, he still wore those enormous Gucci sunglasses.
He wore a bright purple velvet suit with a flamboyant cut. Among the gray- and black-clad bureaucrats of Harrisburg, he was like a peacock that had stumbled into a murder of crows.
William, holding a glass of still-bubbling soda water, pointed at the desk that had just been carried out.
"That thing is hideous. It exudes a... stale, rotten, nauseatingly bureaucratic stench."
William wrinkled his nose, as if he had caught a whiff of some unnamable stench.
"And that sofa."
He pointed to the dark brown leather sofa set in the corner.
"That color reminds me of my grandfather’s constipated face. Throw it all out. This place needs to breathe. It needs space. It needs... aesthetics."
Bernard closed his eyes in anguish.
"Mr. President."
Bernard made one last, desperate attempt.
"That is the chair sat in by every President before you. It’s a symbol of tradition. If we replace it with..."
He glanced at the boxes being unpacked by the door.
"...with that strange steel and glass furniture, what will the other Senators think?"
"What will they think?"
William turned, took off his sunglasses, and revealed a pair of eyes, hazy from a hangover.
"They’ll be jealous."
William said with conviction.
"They’ll realize their own musty offices are practically pigsties. Bernard, you have to understand, aesthetics are the number one productive force around here."
"Taste defines status."
William snapped his fingers.
"Bring in that white Bauhaus-style sofa and put it right in the center. Yes, right there."
"And my coffee machine, the one flown in from Italy, has to be placed within arm’s reach."
Bernard watched as the movers brought in the pieces of modern art-inspired furniture, all of which looked completely out of place in the Capitol Building.
Within a single hour, the once solemn and dignified Speaker’s Office was transformed into something resembling a postmodernist design showroom.
William sat down with satisfaction on a strangely-shaped, geometric chair and crossed his legs.
"Now this is more like it."
William surveyed his surroundings.
"The decor is changed, and my mood has already improved."
He suddenly noticed a wooden box on a table.
It was the President’s gavel, its handle worn smooth and shiny.
William reached out, picked up the gavel, and weighed it in his hand, a look of disgust spreading across his face.
"What is this? For cracking walnuts?"
"It is a symbol of power, sir," Bernard explained. "You will need it to maintain order when presiding over the Senate."
"Made of wood?"
William tapped the head of the gavel with a fingernail, producing a dull thud.
"So tacky."
He casually tossed the wooden gavel—the very symbol of the highest legislative authority in Pennsylvania—back into its box.
"Bernard, take a note."
William pulled his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through a jewelry brand’s catalog.
"Have a new one custom-made for me."
"I want a crystal one. Swarovski, maybe, or Baccarat. I want a material that will blind people under the lights."
"The handle needs to be encrusted with diamonds. Not too many, just a single band will do. Understated luxury."
Bernard’s jaw dropped.
"A Crystal Gavel?"
"Mr. President, that thing... can you even bang it? It would shatter."
"Who said anything about actually banging it?"
William rolled his eyes at him.
"It’s a work of art, meant to display my authority. If those Senators don’t behave, I’ll just use its radiance to purify their souls."
"Go get it done. Take the fee from my office budget. If that’s not enough, have Evelyn foot the bill."
Bernard felt a wave of dizziness.
He looked at the new President before him, now engrossed in studying tie color combinations, and the image of Evelyn Saint Cloud’s icy face surfaced in his mind.
’This job is just too difficult.’
...
「Three in the afternoon.」
The Senate was in full session.
This was William Saint Cloud’s debut after taking office.
The Senate chamber was packed; not a single seat was empty.
William sat in the high President’s chair.
He had changed his clothes.
A deep blue custom-tailored suit, with an enormous diamond brooch pinned to his lapel.
He wasn’t looking at the documents before him, nor at the Senators seated below.