Vaulting Ambition
It was one of many weird days in September that began as a quintessentially chilly Autumn morning and ended with a rather pleasant sunny afternoon, more common in Summer.
The Administrators in Ardenvale gathered in their small board room alongside Chief Administrator Sir Gordon Ainsworth and Joseph Benson, the town’s recently reelected MP.
They were here for the third of their quarterly meetings and the first one since the General Election a couple of months previously.
Sir Gordon marched to the front of the table.
“Good morning, everyone, to the third of our quarterly meetings,” he said. “Before we begin, I would like to congratulate Tom, who has worked enough hours with us to grant him a seat in the House of Lords.”
The Administrators applauded Tom, who humbly acknowledged them.
“Secondly, I know we were all preparing to welcome a new MP today, but as it happens, we are re-welcoming Joseph Benson, who will now officially open the meeting,” Gordon said.
The room broke into rapturous applause as Gordon sat back down and Joseph took his place.
“Thank you, thank you,” Joseph said as the applause died. “For those of you who genuinely believed I was going to lose the election, I say only this: thank you for your optimism.”
The Administrators laugh, some of them less genuinely than others.
“David has told me he plans on visiting Ardenvale at some point, and yes, he’s going to buy some overpriced tat from the tourist gift shop,” Joseph said.
The group before him laughed once more, although it was a longstanding tradition that important visitors buy something in the tourist gift shop, so they would jolly well hope that newly elected Prime Minister David Blair would keep it going.
“I am delighted to be here still working with you to make this town the best in the country and continue working alongside my comrade Gordon as civilians as we did as soldiers.”
Joseph looked at Gordon for a moment, smiling at his old friend.
Gordon smiled back. A tear fell from his eye that was too small for anyone to notice.
“I’ll shut up now, but before I do, I just want to say that we have a lot of work to do, so let’s crack on.”
Joseph sat down to more loud applause, and Gordon resumed his place.
“Right, now that that’s all sorted, let’s march forth into the belly of the beast,” Gordon said.
He brought out a clicker and changed the slide on an electronic whiteboard.
“Following the recent success of our Public Information Leaflet on cancel culture, how to avoid being cancelled and what to do if you are, I am delighted to announce that we are creating a revised version.”
The Administrators humed with approval.
Gordon changed a slide on the board.
“Reverend Elias Blackwood has proposed that he write a leaflet entitled How to Behave in Church following inappropriate behaviour during recent Sunday services.”
“What unorthodox shenanigans are we talking about here?” Mat, one of the Administrators, said.
“He has refused to elaborate, but there are enough for him to feel the need to write a leaflet about it.”
Satisfied with this answer, Mat sat back in his seat.
“Lord Christoph Flooding has also proposed a leaflet, A Beginners Guide to Fascism, but I believe we need to vote on this to decide whether to veto it or not.”
“Don’t bother, just veto it,” Joseph said. “Something I plan to do during my next tenure is to oust Christoph from politics altogether.”
“Very well,” Gordon said.
Gordon changed another slide on the whiteboard.
“Some exciting news now: Ardenvale will host the inaugural Human Chess Championships at the local Masonic Lodge.”
“What is human chess exactly, sir?” William Darcy, Viscount Cranbourne and one of Gordon’s subordinates said.
“I admit I have no precise idea, but I assume it’s similar to regular chess, but we are the pieces, standing on the chequered carpet that the Freemasons have,” Gordon said.
William sat back in his chair.
“Interesting,” he said, “I’ll make sure to have a look.”
Gordon changed the slide on the screen, and the words over to you appeared in big, bold letters.
“Now then, I’m sure you’ve all had enough of me to last a lifetime. So, do any of you wish to use this time to share something with us.?”
Chris Johnson, another administrator, sheepishly raised his hand.
“Go ahead, Christopher,” Gordon said, sitting on a chair and crossing his legs, eager to hear what Chris had to say.
“Well, I was sifting through the Ardenvale archives in the library,” Chris began, “and I found a law from the 16th century that, as far as I know, has never been abolished.”
A deafening silence filled the room.
All eyes were on Chris, making him increasingly uncomfortable.
Some of Chris’ colleagues leaned in closer.
“What law is this, Chris?” William said.
Chris paused for a moment.
“There must be at least one citizen in the town who at all times must be given unlimited power.”
The Administrators, Gordon and Joseph, started talking amongst themselves.
“Does that mean that they’re above the law?” Another administrator said.
“I think so,” Chris said. “They must be allowed to do whatever they want, without obstruction.”
“Interesting,” Gordon said, standing up from his seat. “The question is, who should wield unlimited power?”
“I would say the people in this room are the only people deserving of such an accolade,” one of the Administrators said.
“I agree,” Joseph said. “As this town’s recently elected MP, I believe that person is me.”
Gordon slowly walked towards Joseph.
“Allow me to disagree respectfully,” Gordon said. “I am the Chief Administrator of Ardenvale with a distinguished fifty-year military career under my belt; surely, I deserve unlimited power.”
Chris hugged himself and melted into his chair as best he could, wishing he’d kept quiet.
William leapt out of his seat and faced the two other men.
“I willingly throw my hat into the ring,” he said, miming and throwing a hat between them. “I am Viscount Cranbourne, and my father is Chief Traditional Whip of the House of Lords. This privilege is rightfully mine.”
“You’re already going to be a Lord, William. There’s no need to go overboard,” Gordon said.
One by one, other Administrators stood up and claimed their right to receive ultimate power.
All except one, of course. Chris sat in his seat, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.
“I have worked over forty thousand hours. My reward is long overdue,” said one.
“If I look on Ancestry, I’m sure I’ll discover that a twenty times great grandfather was the previous recipient of this claim, and thus I should inherit it,” said another.
“Why don’t we all share it equally?” Said one of the more diplomatic Administrators.
The others stared at him blankly.
“I’m afraid that is out of the question,” Gordon said. “The law clearly states that only one person can receive ultimate power. Isn’t that right, Christopher?”
Chris frowned at his manager.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“In that case, there is only one way we can settle this,” Gordon said, removing a ceremonial sword from the wall. “And that is with a fight… to the DEATH!”
“The last person standing claims the reward,” Joseph said. “A brilliant idea.”
“Can everybody please just stop?” Chris said, finally rising from his seat and trying his best to control the situation.
All eyes fell on him again, and some began to relax.
“I think it would be best if we officially abolish this law and confine it to the annuls of history,” Chris said.
“Poppycock,” Gordon said. “The Lord of Ardenvale must rise again!”
William composed himself and stepped back, beginning to realise what was happening.
“Chris is right,” William said. “I mean, look at us. What are we doing?”
Joseph snapped back into reality.
“Actually, yes,” he said. “It is a bit ridiculous for us to kill each other because of a law we only found out about a few minutes ago.”
One by one, the other Administrators slowly returned to their seats.
Eventually, Chris managed to return the order to the room.
Gordon placed the ceremonial sword back onto the wall.
“Very well,” Gordon said. “I at this moment declare this heretofore forgotten law officially abolished. May it remain forgotten.”
Gordon turned towards Chris.
“You have shown great restraint and intelligence, my good man,” Gordon said. “As a reward, I shall personally recommend to His Majesty to award you a knighthood.”
“No, Gord, just no,” Chris said. “Maybe in a few years. But can we continue with the meeting?”
“Of course,” Gordon said. “A shrewd suggestion.”
With that, Gordon stood before the whiteboard again and faced his Administrators and the MP.
“So, everyone, any other business?”
The Robinsonverse 