The Great Petroleum Panic, or How the Oil Merchant's Greed Met the Crown's Resolve

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a merchant in possession of a great quantity of oil must be in want of an even greater profit. In the bustling heart of the empire, a most peculiar commotion has arisen regarding the price of petroleum, prompting the government to intervene before the common carriage-driver is reduced to selling his last waistcoat for a single gallon of spirits.

Mr. Novak, a gentleman of considerable authority, recently convened a gathering of the most distinguished officials to address this volatility. With a countenance of stern resolve, he assured the assembly that the supply to our hardworking husbandmen and the shipments to the frozen North are proceeding according to plan. He has commanded the regional magistrates to keep a hawk-like vigil over the prices, lest some rogue decide that a crisis is the perfect occasion for an unwarranted windfall.

It appears the great Oil Houses, those behemoths of industry, have finally ceased their flirtation with scarcity. Mr. Novak proudly proclaimed that these companies have abandoned their restrictive quotas and are now producing fuel with a vigour that would put a young curate to shame. Indeed, the great 'Gazprom' concern has seen fit to lift the restrictions in the metropolis of Moscow and the foggy reaches of Saint Petersburg, as well as in eleven other provinces, effectively ending the artificial famine they had so skillfully curated.

However, justice is not blind to the antics of the petty profiteer. In the regions of Nizhny Novgorod and Novosibirsk, among others, the authorities have unearthed a nest of knaves. Criminal proceedings have been launched against several proprietors of filling stations—mere vulgarians who thought they could inflate their prices without consequence. These gentlemen, in their pursuit of a few extra shillings, forgot that the State possesses a very long memory and a very heavy gavel. Other merchants in Kursk and Penza were merely given a sharp rapping on the knuckles via official warnings.

To the astonishment of the counting-houses, prices have begun a most welcome descent. In the Republic of Mari El, the cost of fuel plummeted by nearly ten percent—a collapse that surely sent several local speculators into a state of profound melancholia. Similar declines were noted in Voronezh and Irkutsk, proving that even the most stubborn of price hikes must eventually bow to the laws of supply and demand. In the Kaluga province, Governor Shapsha reports that the panic has vanished as quickly as a gambler's fortune at a rigged table; the queues have disappeared, and order is restored.

As for the final resolution of this farce, Mr. Valery Andrianov, a learned doctor of finance, suggests that by the arrival of autumn, the crisis shall be a mere memory. Provided the refineries are not plagued by further 'unexpected' repairs—a favorite excuse of the lazy commercialist—the peak of the storm has passed.

Certain plants have returned their wares to the Exchange, though under new and curious rules. Mr. Andrianov posits that once the deficit vanishes, the independent station-masters—those opportunistic chaps who thrived on the misery of the stranded motorist—will be forced to lower their prices to compete with the great Joint-Stock Companies. For as we know, there is nothing a rogue hates more than a fair market where he cannot charge a premium for the privilege of not walking home.