Chapter 66: Moon of Wrath I  

I’m Goudan, the nation’s prime minister.

A year ago, our neighboring country had gained significant fame and reputation through a successful rocket launch.

It became a supernation overnight.

Rocket? Commendable.

A reinforced steel cylinder costs up to a few hundred million.

It stood erect on the ground, its goal the faraway sky.

The reporters were narrating the scene of the rocket shooting up live on national television.

No accident, no explosion, no deviation.

Televisions recycled the rocket launch scene and published it in newspapers.

Then came the long-lasting boasts.

Practically all countries started turning rocket launch into a trend.

Be it wealthy or developing countries, all believed that a successful launch would symbolize their nation’s brimming financial and physical resources.

They also believed that it signified that a country had foresight.

This matter became a knot in my heart.

A knot that I must untangle.

Government Building, inside the office.

In a meeting.

“Are we going to launch one to raise the citizens’ spirits?” the chief of propaganda department questioned.

“Do we have the capital?” I inquired.

“Taxes and fundings this year add up to about 700 million, but I’m not sure how much we’ll have to pump into this,” the finance minister answered.

“Do we have the necessary technology and resources?” I continued.

Silence.

A general, sitting furthest away from everyone, tucked his hat between his belt and walked over.

He stopped before me and retrieved a thick set of documents from behind him. “Prime Minister, I’d originally intended to appeal for a batch of the newest missile ingredients, but now, I would rather have the military expert build a rocket.”

“You’re proposing that the missile builder build a rocket?” I asked in surprise.

Sighs filled the room.

“Why not?” the general raised his voice.

“I think you should give your scientists a call to check the feasibility of your plan before we continue this discussion,” I told him. He had to understand that this wasn’t a joking matter.

The general pulled out a satellite phone from his back pocket and pressed some buttons.

After a few minute conversation over the phone, he hung up and bowed to me. “The military expert requires some input from the mathematicians but they believe it’s not a problem, and I have faith in them. Just take a look at these missile blueprints. It’s practically perfect.”

I browsed through the diagrams one by one.

All drawn components came with precise measurements and labels stating their specific functions.

The chief of cultural department smiled and said, “I have countless mathematicians with me. That’s not a problem.”

I nodded. “Have you asked your specialists about the costs, General?”

With a grave expression, he answered, “Because this will be our very first launch, the estimated cost is about 1.3billion.”

“Don’t we only have 700 million?”

The chief of cultural department trembled slightly as he spoke, “We had planned to build a world-class sports stadium last year, but our neighbor’s newly built stadium far surpassed our blueprints so I halted the project and saved the money. We should have about 400 million and a massive site available.”

My jaw dropped. Everyone was taken aback.

“Where is it?”

The chief took a red pen out and walked over to the blueprints on the table.

He marked out the city center, tapping the location with his pen.

“1.1 billion capital to build a rocket in the city center?” I processed the information slowly.

Everyone was stunned.

After a brief pause, the general started clapping.

So did the chief of the cultural department.

Soon, applause and cheers took over the room.

Suddenly, the door was kicked open and five fully-equipped soldiers barged in.

I stood up, frustrated. “Withdraw. No one’s hurt. We were just too excited. Everyone is in agreement for this project?”

Hands shot up into the air one after another, leaving the soldiers baffled.

In a corner, the chief of disease prevention department stood up and said, “Will launching the rocket in the city center produce any harmful substances? And will those substances...”

The soldiers left the room at this point, holding up the broken door in place.

“Get more information from the scientists. Be more detailed, General,” I ordered.

The general turned away and picked up his satellite phone once again.

The call was going on for a few minutes when the general suddenly raised a fist high up.

He gave us a thumbs up, informing us that it was good news.

After he hung up, the general turned to us and relayed, “We can build a giant protection sector to isolate the noise and radiation. The military expert raised no concerns, but the shield is going to cost about 100 million.”

“13 plus one... how much do we have now?”

“With the 400 million from the stadium, we have a total of 1.1billion,” the finance minister answered.

The chief of the cultural department got up. “We may be short of 300 million but if news spreads, we could stick ads onto the aforementioned protection sector and even on the rocket itself. I’m sure we will gather more than 300million.”

“Have we gone mad?” I asked, still attempting to piece things together in my head.

The general patted my shoulder. “No, we’re creating the future.”

“We need a resounding name for this project,” I decided.

Rocket in the city center? Core?

I looked at the map on the table, the red mark catching my attention. “Let’s call it the Red Dot Project.”

The chief of propaganda department shook his head. “People will associate it with war. This is the start of our nation’s transformation. How about Project Begin?”

“Project Begin? Looks like we’ve got our name. Run anything that has to do with this project through my approval before executing them,” I shouted with vigor.

Shouts and applause filled the room once more.

Again, the door was kicked open and the soldiers trodded in.

“We’re fine. Why do you guys come in the moment we raise our voice?” I asked curiously since nothing like this had ever happened before.

One of the soldiers flashed a watch in his hand. There were a few numbers on it.

He explained, “General’s rule. Exceed 80 decibels and we’re supposed to check in.”

I turned to look at the general. He waved his hand sheepishly. “For safety.”

“Looks like this project is well-supported! Over 80 decibels!” I noted excitedly.

Everyone calmed down as the general and the chief of the cultural department returned to their seats.

“Anything else?” I asked.

Everyone shook their head.

“Let’s go. This place isn’t good for a meeting anymore. Let’s go grab a drink?” I offered merrily.

Three days later.

Four boxes of documents in red, orange, yellow, and green were placed on the office table.

The colors represented the level of importance of the documents within; green for general documents and red for classified ones.

I picked a document from the red box, ‘Project Begin’ stamped on it.

Interested, I flipped open the file and started reading.

Pleased with what I saw, I signed my big fat name on it.