Day 0
John Johnsen
Minister of health, Norway
"—I suppose what I am saying is, in summary, won't someone please think of the children?"
There was a low murmur through the Storting at that line. Petersen had always been known as somewhat of a joker, but something about his visits to the mainland had broken him, and his humour was growing increasingly dark. Privately, I thought he was simply trying to cope with a stressful situation.
We were half an hour into an hour-long presentation on the latest attempt to, to quote, 'Harmonise academic rating systems throughout the Euro-zone'. Which Norway wasn't a member of, a fact which—to our frustration—mostly meant having to follow their rules while not having a vote. Not without kicking and screaming all the way, and some of that kicking and screaming was happening right here and now.
Even Petersen's always present smile had turned twisted. What was going on down there, I wondered?
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He looked down at his notes, seemingly fighting with himself. His hands were visibly trembling. Finally, coming to a decision—
"This is—nonsense. Their entire system. Testing theories is well and good, but they're refusing to look at their own results. What's the point of standardised tests, if it means our children will end up worse off in the end? Well, I'm telling you here and now: I've talked to the experts, and no-one, literally no-one with any experience thinks this is a good idea. It may cause some trouble, but I think it's worth making school transfers a little harder, if it means a better system of education. Now, I'll go on if you wish, but the rest of my presentation is more of the same."
Same old Petersen. You could take the kid out of school, but I guess you couldn't take school out of the kid. We'd known each other for decades, and I'd felt absolutely zero surprise that he'd gone for this position.
We were both members of the Progress Party, one of the rising stars of the Norwegian political system. I didn't agree with a lot of their policies—god knows, I wasn't a racist—but neither could I stand back and pretend that the issues they claimed existed were nonexistent. At least they acknowledged them. 'Fix the system from the inside,' was what my family had said, and it seemed to be working out; two or three more decades, which is what I figured I had before retirement, and we might be getting somewhere.
Meanwhile, most of the Ting was nodding along. Petersen's speech had been nominally addressed to the president of the Ting, per procedure; now he was taking stock of the atmosphere and coming to a conclusion.
"Informally, then. Who agrees with his conclusions?"
I raised my hand. So did most everyone else.
"The ayes have it. This was a purely informational presentation…"
"The committee of education will be ready with a formal proposal in a month's time. Naturally, if we are choosing to break with Europe, there are a number of other improvements that can be made."
I gave Petersen a nod as he returned to his seat. Well done.
The president went on. "Next on our agenda, a presentation on the state of… flood preparations in Vestlandet."
Eh?
I tried to wrap my brain around that idea. Wasn't that part of the country all cliffs?
Instead of listening, I looked at the latest dispatch from the ECDC. The rash had spread to three more countries; still no sign of a cure; still no sign of any of the patient zeroes getting better, for that matter. It was starting to worry me a bit. A ninety-five percent infection rate meant that it'd practically put the country out of order for a month, even if the patients got better on schedule.
If it were politically feasible, and practically possible, I'd have pushed for quarantine—the way Iceland was doing right now.
———
"I say screw roads! Let's let it wash away once and for all, and start relying on boat traffic!"
"Speak for yourself! I have things I need to go get. Like… my poor grandmother!"