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News and Politics: Part Three

Varlik exhaled loudly as he rested in the chair, leaning against the back cushion. He was almost tempted to twiddle his thumbs out of boredom, but he couldn’t be sure if the cameras were rolling and didn’t want to give them any free footage to run as stock. He glanced around the room, taking in the almost empty, soulless feel of it. Besides the chair he was sitting on, the room only had another chair across from him, a round mahogany table that seated his water bottle, and two leafy plants on both sides of the chairs. He imagined the plants were brought on sometime in the show’s lifespan to bring a little more life to the room; an artist, or manager, or corporate, or somebody, he figured, going on about how color balance was instrumental in retaining viewer counts.

He found that thought funny, since the same straw man in his mind was entirely fine with the color of the room. The same dark, maroon-like color that covered the walls and ceiling even coated the carpet, and the only signs of anything peering through were the cameras and studio lights peering out of holes in the roof.

”Oh no, no, the maroon floor is perfect! It’s got a real quality to it, a real warm and soft look that really brings out the color in people.” He imagined the man saying. ”We gotta keep it. Think about the intensity of the scene laid out in a dull and featureless office. But get rid of the table, yes, we need mahogany, not oak. That’ll throw off the entire scene!”

The prime minister prevented himself from chuckling so he didn’t look like a madman, instead gazing forward at the door just out of center shot.

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It was almost a company tradition to leave the interviewees waiting a few minutes. Aygül didn’t mind and she relented; she thought that the extra time in-between them arriving and being interviewed riled them up. The boredom led to impatience and they were always quite eager to get started and jump right into the meat of the topic at hand.

Pulling out a pocket mirror she went over her appearance once more, pulling a few stray hairs out of her face and readjusting her bun. She flicked the mirror shut and glanced over to the door beside here, where the recording equipment sat just behind a blacked out window to prevent reflection and light pollution in the recording room. Her bosses’ were there, she knew that, but the CEO himself was probably in attendance to watch the interview. It was such an extraordinary privilege that she was given, and one that TBN’s board was certainly prepared to take direct authority over.

Knowing that she had no more time to waste, Aygül held her head up straight and entered the recording room. The prime minister perked up almost immediately at the much needed stimulus, and the two shared a short smile as she claimed her seat across the table from him.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Gulpinar. Sorry for the wait.”

“It’s fine.”

She glanced at the cameras. “Are you ready to begin?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Varlik said with a nod.

Sitting just in front of Varlik, Aygül was finally able to get a decent look at the prime minister. The way the man looked on the big screens or the internet was much different than in person. She immediately noticed that he was a fairly okayish looking man for being in his fifties; his black hair was combed to a fine sheen, without a speck of gray to be seen.

A man over the speakers slowly counted down the time, Aygül listening to each digit as it passed over the loudspeaker before finally reaching zero. Showtime.

“Welcome back to TBN Tonight,” she started with the introduction spiel, “Tonight we have a very special guest: Prime Minister Varlik Gulpinar. Thank you for joining me, sir.”

“Ah, it’s my pleasure.” Varlik said, somewhat at odds with repeating himself again.

“Today we mark slightly over a year since the NJ’s have come to power in Tabariye. Mister Gulpinar, would you care to speak about your campaign? How did it feel to win on election night?”

“Relief. Happiness. Glory?” Varlik responded, shrugging his shoulders at the latter. “For a lot of my staff it was like finally seeing through your life’s work. It was almost surreal… a somber experience in some ways. I remember tears being shed, in happiness, of course. There was almost disbelief we won, though we were polling well the entire election year.”

Aygül nodded. “Some may remember during the campaign season that it was revealed that you were not the first choice for the National Justice Party. Demir Avci was. How did the news come to you that you were suddenly the face of the party? How did it feel?”

“Well…” Varlik said, buying for time. “Demir and I are friends, and when the election started to loom over the horizon he invited me over for dinner and told me his diagnosis.”

“Cancer?”

“Liver. He told me he felt he could not run. Not only would he not be able to serve Tabariye in the office for long, but he felt a civic duty at the time to step down and allow the party to nominate someone who could represent our constituents.”

Aygül leaned forward. “But how did you feel? One moment you’re a MP and then next you’re in the driver seat.”

“Yes, it was a very strange feeling at first. Nobody as a kid ever wakes up and says, ‘One day I will be the prime minister,’ at least realistically speaking. I never thought I would be, then suddenly there I was, coming out on debate stages and speaking to the tabloids. Surreal. That’s the only way I can put it.”

“There’s some indications that TPP’s campaign felt differently at the time, that they were stacking cards and putting someone inexperienced in a position of authority.”

“Look,” he said with a frown, “Since I have been prime minister the national debt has been reduced. National Justice has overseen one of the largest GDP per capita—that’s our average wealth per citizen—increases in the past ten years. People have more money, they’re spending more money. They’re happy with National Justice.” He looked directly into Aygül eyes, a clear facade of determination as he continued. “I don’t care what Aksoy or his people try and run against me… the facts show what’s what… and the facts show that National Justice has been good for Tabariye.”

“All about the facts, huh?”

“That’s why I’m in the business of government,” he said with a smirk, letting her fill in the rest of the insinuation herself.

She nodded for a moment, letting the air cool before switching over to her next topic.

“Now the next question is lined up from one of our viewers. The Kizikale Bridge collapse. What’s your cabinet's response to allegations of poor funding and rural mismanagement?”

Varlik looked down at the floor, resisting every fiber of his being that wanted to burst out in an exasperated laugh.