Duncan checked his watch as he sipped his coffee. He still had fifteen minutes. That was plenty of time to finish the bitter drink and arrive at the meeting, fully prepared. Still, he wasn't entirely sure how to prepare as he hadn't exactly been made aware of the topic of debate. He and his brother had made their guess and they didn't like it but they couldn't be certain until he was actually sitting at the meeting table with the Prime Minister.

Duncan tipped the cup, pouring the remaining hot liquid into his mouth before swallowing, shuddering slightly at the bitter aftertaste. Not bothering to throw the cup away, he simply left it on the counter for a waitress to clear up. Duncan picked up his shiny briefcase and exited the shop. Now fuelled by caffeine, Duncan could properly wonder what was in store for him.

As he strode down the pavement, the wonderful sound of the noisy city met his ears as cars and lorries drove by, some honking their horns at idiotic drivers, some revving their engines. The sound of busyness was a glorious noise and he stopped for a moment to take it in. Glancing around, things didn't look as bad as the media made out to be. People were walking around in suits, clutching briefcases and sandwiches and drinks, glued to their phones as they travelled between destinations. It all seemed perfectly ordinary. He couldn't see what all the fuss was about. These people were carrying out their daily lives as if there were no problem.

Then again, this was the richest area of Goldenrod. He'd heard that in poorer parts of the region, the situation was somewhat different. People were allegedly struggling. Some were jobless, some were homeless and a scarily large amount had resorted to crime. If Duncan had walked through those kinds of areas in the silk suit he was currently wearing, he wouldn't last long. He'd get beaten up and mugged in five minutes. Fortunately, he didn't need to venture to those parts. He had no reason to visit scum.

Eventually, he reached his destination. The iconic black door marked '10' swung open as he approached it. Duncan stepped inside where he was met by two giant security guards. They patted him down before allowing him to go further. He followed their gestured path down the corridor. It was overly fancy, decorated with only the finest paint, the walls lined with only the finest of paintings, even the rug was some kind of ornate ornament that he almost felt guilty for treading on with such disrespect. Everything was a show of wealth. Wealth that even Duncan could envy.

"Jones," a stern voice said as Duncan entered the meeting room.

"Gordon," Duncan nodded as he shook the Prime Minister's hand before taking a seat in one of the very un-businesslike armchairs. There were exceptionally comfy and soft, not what he'd been anticipating in this so-called emergency meeting. "So, what's this emergency about then?"

"You know full well why you're here Jones," Gordon said, a grim look etched on his aged face. Duncan attempted to look confused. "Have a look at this." He passed Duncan one of those new techy tablet things and tapped the screen several times before turning away, showing Duncan only the grey hair on the back of his head.

"A graph? That's why I'm here?" Duncan asked, still trying to hold up his act of being puzzled. If he played this wrong he was in big trouble. He was looking at a graph that looked like the downward slope of a mountain range. At the beginning, there were a few peaks but from then on, there was a steep curve showing the plummeting value of the Poképound.

"Several graphs Jones." Duncan flicked the tablet, seeing other similar graphs, all showing various problems that Gordon had to deal with.

"What does this mean?"

"You know bloody well what it means!" Gordon yelled, his temper exploding. He turned to face Duncan, his usually calm face now the colour of beetroot. He slammed his fist against the luxurious mahogany table, probably causing some expensive damage. "Our economy is in ruins! Absolute ruins! The Poképound is less valuable now than it was fifty years ago, exports are down, imports are down, the economy is shrinking Jones, shrinking!"

"With all due respect, a shrinking economy might not necessarily be a bad thing-"

"It bloody well is Jones and you know it. The region's falling apart. My government can't afford to pay the RHS workers or the policemen or the firemen or any service that this democracy offers because we have no money! This ruddy deflation is causing all kinds of private firms to lay off their workers so we're not bloody producing anything." For a moment there was silence whilst Gordon attempted to recompose. Duncan was calmly sitting, thinking how best to get out of this situation.

"I'm one man Gordon. I can't fix all of your problems," Duncan replied.

"When I became Prime Minister I promised to get this region in a better position and not many people think I've managed that properly Jones. There's a general election next year and if things carry on like this, I've got no chance of winning. And if I'm not the Prime Minister, you can bet you won't be in charge of the Monetary Policy Committee anymore." Gordon let his threat hang for a moment. "Do something or you're fired."

"I'll arrange a meeting with the team," Duncan said after a long moment of silence. "We'll see what we can do."

"And then you're going to run your proposed changes by me this time," Gordon added. "I'm done trusting you."

"Well then I hope to regain that trust," Duncan said as he handed the tablet back to the Prime Minister and stood up. They didn't bother shaking hands. Duncan just quickly made his way out, desperate to not aggravate the already fuming man further. Once out on the street, Duncan brought his phone out from his blazer pocket to ring his brother. They had some plans to rethink.

"Dunc?" his brother said as he picked up the phone. "How'd it go?"

"Not good Melvin. Not good at all."

"He realised what we were doing?"

"I'm not sure. It's possible he just thought we were making a mistake. In any case, he made his point clear. We've got to make some changes. Drastic changes. We need to kick-start this economy and quickly, or else we're all out of the job."

"So, what's the plan?"

"For now, do as he says," Duncan explained. "We'll lower interest rates like we're supposed to in order to increase aggregate demand to hopefully get some economic growth going. Hopefully, Gordon picks up some support and stays in power. Then we can rethink."

He hung up the phone. It was best to plan out the coming months with the rest of the team in person. This was an annoying development. For four years, he'd used his power and control over interest rates to build up money in the bank, earning him and his team some serious wealth but now that was going to change. They needed new ways to make money.