Azazia
19-05-2006, 18:53
As if I don’t already have enough to deal with, Iain Bashir hefted his laptop-carrying messenger bag up and threw the padded strap over his shoulder, then using his free hands to push up the dark sunglasses that had slipped down his nose. Although inordinately busy over a domestic terror incident in another UK colony, and thus under his jurisdiction, he had been pressured by members of the Kingsland Parliament bloc to meet with CorpSac officials to negotiate a treaty that would split several islands between the two governments.
For now the United Kingdom had managed to maintain its neutrality in Irathria, a continent seemingly plagued with conflicts and wars. But the commercial expansion of Kingsland, with its expanding economy, and the whole of the UK necessitated even more territorial expansion – preferably to somewhat warmer lands, lands that offered the possibility of tourism and even some shipping, as the islands envied by UK investors sat conveniently at the centre of the three main axes of maritime trade in Irathria.
Bashir smiled and nodded politely to the small crowd of businesspersons who he gathered to be the Council of CEOs, who would be taking him to the inner sanctum of the CorpSac government. On the behalf of Prime Minister Lord Salisbury for His Majesty’s Government, I should like to thank you for taking the time to meet with me to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion of the territorial questions set before us.
As pleasantries were exchanged Bashir found himself in awe of the sheer size and mass of MegaCity, which although aptly named left the Colonial Secretary desiring for a more prodigious use of his Oceanian imagination. Climbing into their limousines, Bashir noticed for the first time that the road upon which they drove actually sat high above the city and fed into the appropriately named Central Zone, the location of the massive Black Tower that even from this distance he could see upon the horizon.
After several hours of polite, but non-important conversation, the group arrived at the border of the Black Tower District, at this point a name that made Bashir merely smile. The cultural differences between the two nations were plentiful, from the sublime use of architecture to the toponymy of the capital to even the squadron of soldiers that searched a high-ranking diplomat for weapons, the most threatening of his arsenal being the ballpoint pen in his shirt pocket. Finally, he was given a small item he was informed was his Ident Card, which would allow him to stay in some place, whose name he couldn’t quite remember, but was apparently one of the best suites in the whole city.
Some 13 hours after arriving, Bashir finally allowed himself to lay out on his bed, and kick off his shoes. From his briefcase he withdrew a detailed physical map of the islands in question, and then he turned on his laptop and set about reviewing the demands of the UK’s commercial enterprises, and how they would fit into what appeared to be an increasingly militaristic aim. He smiled as he allowed himself to doze off, for diplomacy was not about two friends coming to an agreement, but rather two people who had never before met and held widely differing views coming to an agreement that benefited both parties. He smiled too at the thought of how the Foreign Secretary must hate her job.
For now the United Kingdom had managed to maintain its neutrality in Irathria, a continent seemingly plagued with conflicts and wars. But the commercial expansion of Kingsland, with its expanding economy, and the whole of the UK necessitated even more territorial expansion – preferably to somewhat warmer lands, lands that offered the possibility of tourism and even some shipping, as the islands envied by UK investors sat conveniently at the centre of the three main axes of maritime trade in Irathria.
Bashir smiled and nodded politely to the small crowd of businesspersons who he gathered to be the Council of CEOs, who would be taking him to the inner sanctum of the CorpSac government. On the behalf of Prime Minister Lord Salisbury for His Majesty’s Government, I should like to thank you for taking the time to meet with me to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion of the territorial questions set before us.
As pleasantries were exchanged Bashir found himself in awe of the sheer size and mass of MegaCity, which although aptly named left the Colonial Secretary desiring for a more prodigious use of his Oceanian imagination. Climbing into their limousines, Bashir noticed for the first time that the road upon which they drove actually sat high above the city and fed into the appropriately named Central Zone, the location of the massive Black Tower that even from this distance he could see upon the horizon.
After several hours of polite, but non-important conversation, the group arrived at the border of the Black Tower District, at this point a name that made Bashir merely smile. The cultural differences between the two nations were plentiful, from the sublime use of architecture to the toponymy of the capital to even the squadron of soldiers that searched a high-ranking diplomat for weapons, the most threatening of his arsenal being the ballpoint pen in his shirt pocket. Finally, he was given a small item he was informed was his Ident Card, which would allow him to stay in some place, whose name he couldn’t quite remember, but was apparently one of the best suites in the whole city.
Some 13 hours after arriving, Bashir finally allowed himself to lay out on his bed, and kick off his shoes. From his briefcase he withdrew a detailed physical map of the islands in question, and then he turned on his laptop and set about reviewing the demands of the UK’s commercial enterprises, and how they would fit into what appeared to be an increasingly militaristic aim. He smiled as he allowed himself to doze off, for diplomacy was not about two friends coming to an agreement, but rather two people who had never before met and held widely differing views coming to an agreement that benefited both parties. He smiled too at the thought of how the Foreign Secretary must hate her job.