Word: franco
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...very ordinary young man-quiet, soberly dressed, dull. He did not take much interest in politics, or international affairs, or indeed anything except sex and the weather. His name was Franco, and his passport said he was a European. It did not sound as odd as it had done eleven years earlier; in 1973 no one would have thought of introducing himself at a cocktail party with "Hello, I'm a European." People were French, or English, or German, or Italian. Never European. The only people who used the word in those days were Americans, who invested geographical proximity...
Today, it was hard to tell the difference between a European and an American city. Most of the old, narrow streets that once gave Paris and Rome their distinctive character had been pulled down by property developers and replaced with neat, strictly functional office blocks. Franco worked in a modest room on the 18th floor of a building that looked like an upturned matchbox. From his window he had a splendid view of an identical building opposite: all the office buildings in Europe were identical...
...Franco's first job had been with the Fiat-General Motors-Leyland-Renault combine, but life in a company town had not appealed to him. Based on the Japanese system, the company towns had been built with one purpose-to ensure loyalty to the combine, rather than to country or family. Inbreeding was not only allowed but actively encouraged. Few people escaped, because mergers had drastically reduced one's choice of multinationals. One could work for the combine's branch in Italy or France, but it was difficult to switch to another industry. Apart from anything else...
...Franco, though, had been lucky. After six months with the combine, he had been offered a job by an American bank. Banking was one field in which no great knowledge or experience seemed to be required, and the Americans liked to have a few genuine Europeans on their staff. Now he commuted from his suburban home in Coventry (London's phenomenal growth had extended the suburbs out for a hundred miles or more) to the financial district...
...Franco sighed. Problems, problems. No one ever seemed to have time to relax and be happy these days. Not like the '60s and '70s that Father liked to talk about. It was wonderful then, by all accounts...