In the command center on the top floor of Pittsburgh City Hall, a long-absent sense of ease filled the air.
On the massive LED screen, the red alert line that once signified the fiscal deficit had vanished, replaced by a stable green curve.
Blake Finch stood before the screen, the tapping of his calculator finally ceasing.
The balding director of the budget office let out a long breath, as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Mr. Mayor, the numbers are balanced."
Finch turned around.
"Not only are they balanced, but we're even starting to see a surplus. Ever since the trust fund officially took over pharmaceutical procurement, our drug acquisition costs have plummeted by forty percent."
"City Hall no longer has to dip into the city's treasury each month to plug the healthcare deficit. That money can now be used to repair roads or pay police officers for overtime."
Leo Wallace sat in the command chair, a glass of ice water in his hand.
