On the 47th floor of energy's capital
tower, Oscar Micheley sat at his desk.
He opened his laptop and spun the photos of
his children. He didn't like his kids
looking over shoulder while he did this
and didn't want the framed glass
reflecting his computer screen.
The last thing he needed was for Janice
or some other aide to walk in and catch a
glimpse of him trawling the pages of a
dating website. His divorce forced him to
weather months of pity and he'd rather
staff didn't see the desperate measures
he now employed to stave off loneliness.
"Bird Fondler...interesting."
"No Relatives Please...Oddly specific."
"They're ready in the spire room," said Janice through the door.
"Come in, Janice," Oscar shouted back,
pulling on his half-black half-white
mediators blazer. The jacket felt snug today.
He'd never been an athletic man, but the job
of absorbing stress from angry diplomats
had a swelling effect. "Is everyone here?"
"Representatives from nine of the ten
states are here. The state of food is a
no-show...again" "Any new revelations on the
Terminator gene catastrophe?" "They won't return my calls."
"Any news on medicine's containment issue?" "No."
"Defense and technology
still spying on each other?" "There was a minor
skirmish in the plaza between General Sorch and -Oh God!"
"What?" "That bird." "Hmmph, that happens at least three times a day."
"Have we heard from Director Molek?" "We have not."
"That's uh...that's not good."
"Excuse me."
"There he is," announced a young man wearing a
square lapel pin. The white lightning
bolt on a black background told Oscar
the youth was from the grand state of
energy. "Sir, my supervisor..." The junior diplomat
continued to speak but Oscar wasn't listening.
He stared with deaf dissatisfaction at the
lapel pen. He'd never liked the pins.
Anything that divided loyalties was an
obstacle to unity and peace. That spot on
a suit had once been a place for a
national flag, but now it was rare to find
anything other than an advertisement for
state pride.
"I've been waiting here for 10 minutes. Don't know why we have to meet in this tower..."
"Why not, because you want to record our conversations and give them to our enemies?"
"All you ever do is stand there and talk to ugly to each other...."
"I have other things to do..."
It was a shame, Oscar thought, that the
architectural centerpiece of the new
Capitol Complex--the serene Spire Room--was
wasted on this pack of contrary jackals.
When energy's Director Molek first
unveiled the design for the ten blade-like
towers that would house their
restructured government, he claimed each
state's tower would be the same size.
"Equal size buildings representing equal
power," for each of the ten, new corporate
States. But once construction was complete,
anyone could plainly see, Energy's tower
was just a little bit bigger than the
others.
The initial resentful chatter was muted
by the fact that Energy paid for the
entire complex. With their new Deep
Fracturing Engines, Energy gained access
to the nearly endless reserve of
valuable oil and gas even the lower
stratum of the planet's crust. In a nation
power by corporate wealth, this financial
potency, made them immune
to complaints about things like building
size or increasingly strong earthquake
activity near their fracturing machines.
"As the senior diplomat from the state of medicine has so
eloquently suggested, it's time to begin."
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