Ghosts in the Corridors of Power

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a story or poem that features a ghost, either literal or metaphorical.

This week’s story was written by Phil Yeats. Last fall, he published The Souring Seas, the first volume in a precautionary tale about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change. The second volume, Building Houses of Cards, appeared in May 2022. For information about these books, visit his website–https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

 

Ghosts in the Corridors of Power

by Phil Yeats

 

The announcement from the province’s newly installed far right government caught everyone by surprise. Their shift to proactive policies to reduce carbon emissions contradicted everything they’d campaigned on three months earlier. The reaction of conspiracy theorists was swift and more predictable. They claimed entrenched liberal elites infiltrated the new government and subverted its forward-thinking agenda.

Ann Randall, the British head of the provincial police’s conspiracy theory unit, was puzzled. No official communiques or media scuttlebutt explained the complete about face on a major issue. She’d been doing her job for ten years. For the first time, she could credit the conspiracy theorists’ perspective.

The premier and his environment minister looked like zombies when they announced the new policy. “It had to be done,” the premier said before turning to his colleague. She blathered for a few minutes but said absolutely nothing.

Reporters tried to get them to elaborate, but they refused. None of the usual buzzwords, talking points with canned platitudes, or attacks blaming the opposition. It was the flattest presentation Ann ever saw.

Chelsea Dunbar, her youngest and most enthusiastic investigator, tapped on Ann’s door. “Most interesting thing from the melee outside the premier’s press briefing was a comment by one of the alternative media reporters. He blamed ghosts. Got him a good laugh, but no one took him seriously.”

“Something tells me you think there’s something to his story,” Ann replied.

Chelsea gazed heavenward. “The official response was odd. Could be something to it.”

“Open a file. If anything develops, we’ll make it an active investigation.”

 

Chelsea stood in Ann’s doorway three days later. “It’s for real. Three more provincial governments who were against climate change action have done about-faces. And the Feds—they push their climate change agenda, but they’re always short on concrete actions. Suddenly, they’re trotting out proposals for real action.”

Ann shoved aside the files cluttering her desk. “They may be worried about the provinces stealing their thunder, but that’s not our problem.”

“This development has our conspiracy theorists in a tizzy. They’re talking militias and civil disobedience—a war to prevent the urban elites from tramping on their freedoms. We can’t let it go. And one more thing. I overheard this woman at a hangout favoured by Goths and the steampunk crowd. She said something interesting.” Chelsea paused, looking around like she was worried about someone eavesdropping. “‘Someone’s organizing ghosts to put an end to carbon emissions.’”

“Your’re bloody kidding me.”

Chelsea shook her head. “Those were her exact words, and she was dead serious. She believes in ghosts. Says she’s talked to several.”

“That’s it. Couldn’t you push her?”

“Sorry. Guy came out of the washrooms. She joined him and they left. Real odd couple. She’s into Goth, and he’s as straight as they come., I know how to find her. I can follow up if you think I should.”

Ann nodded while trying to imagine her clean-cut young investigator in the steampunk milieu. “And the guy?”

“Know nothing about him, or the people she was talking to. But she’s reliable. She’s provided several solid leads.”

 

The next morning, Ann addressed her team. Upper management demanded action, and Chelsea’s day-old rumours about ghosts influencing political decisions had gone viral.

Ann started with her team’s gnarled veteran. “Jenkins, you have the conspirators. We need to know who they are, what they know, where they’re getting their facts—normal background for planning our response.” She turned to Tom Ford, a smoother operator, more comfortable with the hallowed halls of political power. “Hit up your sources at Queen’s Park. Find out who’s pushing the political agenda, the party insiders and outside influencers.” Ann paused, turned the page in her notebook, and stared for several seconds. “Dunbar, you have your bloody ghosts. Find out who’s behind these rumours. And coordinate with Tom. Whoever’s behind that farce may be using it to push their agenda in the legislatures.”

Jenkins shook his head. “More likely, rumours spread by the conspirators to trash the politicians’ credibility.”

Ann laughed. “Three-way coordination. Get to it. I want it solved!” She strode toward her office and turned in her doorway. “If I hear one bloody word about members of this team believing the ghost rumours…” She slammed her door without articulating her threat.

Jenkins thumped Ford on the back. “Looks like our belligerent British boss has her knickers in a twist about ghosts.” He turned and leered at Chelsea. “You think our precocious young colleague will save us from a bollocking if any ghosts make their way into her inner sanctum?” He grabbed a package of smokes from his desk drawer and strode to the exit.

“Ignore him,” Tom said. “He’s all bluster and no bite, but he’s right about the boss. This ghost business has penetrated her usually stolid disposition. We better get down to it and find the rational solution before anything boils over.”

 

***

The Spot Writers – Our members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/