NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC Thread] (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=547547)
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The sight of fifty helicopters streaming in low across the water was one out of the movies, like the cavalry coming in Apocalypse Now. Each chopper following just a few hundred feet behind the other as they approached the arcology complex and rising into the air when they arrived within a half-mile of the center platform. A flock of doves flew by, skimming over glass roof as they returned home, a rare sight so far from shore.

Robert C. Goddard Jr. stood in his office watching the parade of helicopters as they seemed to fly straight at him. His suited form stood against the outer wall of glass that faced the endless ocean before him. And what a view it was from the top of the building, with nothing but rolling waves and breaking crests on the horizon. At dusk, as the sun sunk beneath the waters, its brilliant rays shimmered across the calm sea. The dull roar of the engines that would have disturbed such a serene scene was blocked by the glass shell that enveloped the arcology. It served as a barrier against the elements - the winds, the waves, the sun's rays, the sounds of nature - but it still let the slightest of refreshing breezes and mists to carry through the air via the southern opening. Even nicer was that it created a natural hotbox by capturing the heat of the sun, which could be trapped in the winter or cycled out into the summer.

Some people watched as Goddard did from their personal villas or the outer ring that circled the structure. This was the seventh already that day, having begun at around eight in the morning, and there were still three trips left. As each helicopter in line descended towards the arcology, sections of the glass roof only a few meters large diameter than the helicopters' rotors opened to the sky. They landed in a circle on individual helipads that adorned the roof of the structure. Waiting for each was a five man welcoming committee consisting of a butler, chef, maid, personal assistant, and trainer who would greet the foreign nationals and show them around. After a helicopter was unloaded, it took off back to the skies so another could land and returned to the private New Zealand airport where it had come.

Those domestic Fellows of the Brookings Institute, the Dominion citizens, had already been there for three weeks already, getting to know their surroundings and developing a routine. Some relaxed in the sun, others were entertaining themselves, and many were working in their private labs as the new members were arriving. A few of the more social ones milled about to greet the foreigners, but for the most part, the domestic body would wait until that night's event to get to know everyone.

~~~~~~~
A knock at the door stirred Robert's mind from the scene outside. He had been standing there for hours thinking about past history. His great-great-uncle had funded this Institute, his father had built its reputation and restored it to prominence, and in only two years he had spending nearly ten billion dollars on a new, high-tech headquarters and made the unprecedented move of opening it to foreign nationals. "I hope I'm making the right decision..."

"Sir, they're asking for you downstairs," said a slender woman in a pink blouse and matching mini-skirt. Her long blonde locks was tied up in a bun, and her beautiful face wore a think pair of black-framed glasses.

"Mmm?" Robert replied as he turned to face his lovely assistant.

"They want to go over final preparations for tonight's gala."

"Ah yes, thank you Kelly. Tell them I'll be right down." Kelly nodded lightly and closed the door as she exited his spacious office. The young Director waited a moment, taking a sip of his spirit, before he crossed the room to the door. As he too exited the room, he tapped something on his wrist, and then locked the door behind him.

~~~~~~~
With all of the helicopters now stored on their pads, their flight paths remaining silent, the last of the foreign members had arrived a couple hours earlier. Now, all one thousand members of the Brookings Institute gathered at circular tables in a large dining hall. For this rare event, the butlers and maids played the roles of servers, darting through the tables to refill glasses, as the chefs worked a makeshift kitchen preparing the meal. While most members had been spread randomly amongst the tables, the Council of Fellows sat a long table at the front on an elevated stage. While there were many young faces in the Institute's body, the Council's table was filled with white-beards and spectacled faces... all save the young Director.

The chiming of a silver spoon against the crystal water glass echoed through the speaker system as Robert Goddard brought the hall to attention. A hush grew across the crowd as the saw the twenty-something Director stand in a lone spotlight upon the stage.

"Welcome everyone to your new homes on Sanctuario. Welcome to the three hundred or so new members from the Dominion who have joined us this year, and welcome to those who have traveled from four hundred plus separate countries across the world. On behalf of the Council, welcome to the new Brookings Institute.

"I will make this brief as I'm sure you would all like to get onto dessert," Robert said as he glanced over at the waiting servers carrying hundreds of plates of delectable looking dishes. "My father, the late Robert Goddard Sr., always told me about the importance of freedom and independence. I read in the history books and news about fascist regimes and ideological fanatics, but he was talking about another kind of freedom. My father told me about his great-uncle Robert J. Brookings who had grown up in the free and liberal Dominion. He was a brilliant man who excelled in his studies, and one would think that doors would open easily before him, but not so was the truth. There was little opportunity for someone of his skills and intellect. Sure, he could have taken a position as an associate professor or in the mid-corporate level, but he wanted to research great things and there was only one employer at the time for someone like that. The rest, as they say, is history. He unlocked the deadliest force man could possess and produced the greatest regret of his career. Ever since that fateful day, his dream was for people to be free to study and work as they wished without fear of survival. That is why we are all here... to study and work as we please, free from want, free from direction, and free from fear.

"Thank you and please enjoy the rest of the night."

Albin Retirun applauded politely with the rest of the assembled audience, and he, who often noticed such things, marveled at the civility and refinement of the clap. Such a graceful sound could only be managed by minds capable of killing the entire population of a nation regarding their own expertise in their respective field, and happy in the knowledge of such ability. Albin’s eyes darted from face to face, most of them were busy in conversation but some of them simply watched the patterns in the influx and expansion of waiters about the table. It was such minds that one had to be wary of, and so much as was possible the memories were filed away for possible future use.

The table the doctor had been seated at was mostly populated by Dominion personnel, who, when Retirun had told them he specialized in theology had given a polite little ‘oh’ and an even more patronizing smile, and returned to discussing quantum mechanics. When he had adventured a pithy remark on the state of morale well being in comparison to the compression of atoms in a vacuum, they gave him a terrified struck look as if he had just committed murder, although they were still friendly enough. The doctor often gave the impression of being a good natured simpleton, a view which he never felt impelled to counter, and had always used it to his advantage, and the current company was not excluded from this feeling. At least they were mild in their distaste.

For the evening Retirun had worn his full choir dress awarded to him along with his undefined Bishopric. On his looming frame it dominated the table and if someone had been placed on the roof could have followed what looked like a very large snow cone moving through the black suits and elegant evening dress. The embroidered swathes of clothing made him feel even more out of place and a blush was already creeping around his face, everyone else seemed so in place and familiar all vibrant with the self indulging passion that comes over even the most modest man when he is allowed to export his extensive knowledge on a subject to a lesser educated person, listening or not. The only saving grace of the evening had been a young serving girl, who upon seeing the robes dipped a very long, and elegant curtsey. “A Waldenburger, thank God.” Though in all likelihood it was simply a convert it was better than nothing and certainly gave him a feeble sense of belonging.

Sighing Albin stood and was accosted by a waiter who he didn’t have the heart to turn down, and was clutching a slice of Kozonoc before he knew what had happened, and so sweet meats in hand began to waltz through the crowd of waiters that bustled around the tables collecting dishes and brining out hundreds upon hundreds of finely decorated deserts.

“Your Honors,” Retirun approached the high table and gave a small curtsey with one hand, the other still clutching at his slice of bread, that slide dangerously on his silk gloves. Before he could stop himself he extended one hand imperiously, a massive emerald stone cocked directly at the director. With a sudden realization of what he had just done, he snatched his hand back, and pretended to shake out a cramp. “It is a pleasure, one which I am most unaccustomed to, to be in such august halls with so many distinguished minds. I wish I had something to offer in return for such an honor, but I of course, being a man of at least the metaphorical cloth have very little in the way of material possessions. I am however instructed,” the bread was set down on the table with a light chink, and the bishop fumbled around in his cassock till he gracelessly produced a letter sealed hugely with a massive wax crest, and even less gracefully slit it open. “By my Emperor to entrust to the Brookings Institute with full digital access to the full Imperial library, some two million titles, it is perhaps small but the ideal of such freedoms and higher education are something we hold dear in Waldenburg, and at the moment it is the best we have to offer.”

“On a rather more academic note, could I inquire as to the general statistics of the Institute, and the villas arranged according to realm of study? I have yet to meet any of my neighbors and I should very much wish to have some opening? I am His Grace Dr. Albin Retirun, extra territorial bishop of the Waldenburg Empire, if I did not mention or, if you failed to notice my rather austere clothing.”

The small helicopter shot over the sea's surface, flying at only a couple of metres above the surface. He could already see the homing beacons of DMG lighting up across his navigation screen, the one flashing in orange being the one he was headed for.

All the time, he had wanted to get away from the government, to think in peace. What he had discovered had mostly been covered up by the government, and a lot of his life history was shrouded in mystery. But, what he thought was worst of all, was that the Ministry of Secrets did not release the information on the temporal properties of the Xi positive particles...

Still, over here, he could focus his attentions on other matters, and possibly use the Arcology as a shield against the Ministry to release what he knew. If they weren't watching him constantly.
He saw a glint in the distance, of the arcologys coming into view. He raised altitude to prepare to land whereever he could in these strange buildings.

Eyi' had barely touched the food, it was still looking almost as it had done when she had recieved it. A mouthful sitting, impaled, on the fork. Slowly growing more and more cold. It was not that she did not enjoy it, quite the contrary, she found it delicious. It was that she had been completely immersed in the discussions that had taken place around the table. All manner of subjects had been brought up, each and everyone presenting exchanges of elegant wordings and masterful arguments. It reminded her of home, she would probably feel very much at home here.

When the director signaled that he wanted to speak she looked up, listening intentely. When he brought up the dessert she realised her forgotten dinner and quickly tried to finish the dish. Once he finished she joined in on the applause.
The dessert was brought out before her and this time she intended to enjoy it at the intended temperature.
She peered at the man presenting himself to the fellows before another discussion about the intruiging mechanics of viruses caught her attention.
The dessert was lying on it's plate, forgotten and almost untouched.

Dr. Patrizio "Pat" Montascoli joined in the applause. He had heard of the history of the Institute, but despite that, he admired the Institute's praiseworthy goals, and admittedly, would help him pursue further his researches. Which is why he came all the way from Brutland and Norden to join this Institute.

He looked around for someone to meet or chat, as he felt somewhat out of place. His tablemates were all from the Dominion; they were talking about the Hartle-Hawking state, time-space continuum, Bose-Einstein condensates, and stuff that hark to university physics courses he would surely have hated. Perhaps he was just on the wrong table, though. He was certain there should be a researcher in the medical field here somewhere...

"Damn, there's a gala on!"

He lept out of the helicopter's pilot seat as it slowed to a stop on the helipad, leaving the ground team to sort out the technical aspects. He slid open the side door and signalled to the assembled porters.

"Take all these bags to my villa, and could you help me take this equipment to a laboratory. I will need a private laboratory for this equipment."

He went with the men to the laboratory, and once they had left slipped off his oversuit revealing a neater suit beneath. Before he went down, security issues had to be taken care of. He did not want the entanglement devices to cause any accidents.
He went over to the 5 steel boxes marked "DANGER", along with the Alfegan symbol for such, and took out of each a small sphere a foot in diameter. He went and plugged them into a high-level power source, there they instantly began to glow. Along with a sound of sudden silence and the refraction implosion wave he hoped no-one noticed came the smell of pure energy. So at least they hadn't been damaged in the journey. He just hoped nobody tried to force them open and set off a "portal cascade".

For a final precaution, he stuck a big sign on the door to the laboratory:

WARNING: HAZARDOUS DEVICES. IF ANYTHING TRIES TO ESCAPE FROM THE LABORATORY, GET SECURITY!

He didn't want a repeat of the 1987 accident.

Eyi' had realised that she had neglected her dessert and started to eat it. She was sure it would be much more enjoyable at appropriate temperatures, but it did not taste bad so that was no major issue.
The continues murmur of a thousand men and women talking had started to die down. The gala was drawing towards its end, she was sure of it. Despite not doing particulary much, it was quite draining. Leaving a mental exhaustion of sorts. Eyi' was starting to feel a bit worn down herself, despite being rather used to crowds.
She finished her dessert, probably among the last to do so, and looked up as the massive doors opened as a late arrival entered.

The Alfegan burst into the hall, panting heavily. He then tried to become as inconspicuous as possible, since he was not a very good man for discussion: his forced secrecy for over a decade had taken its toll on his life.

He slipped over to a table where the talkers seemed to be all quantumn physicians, and helped hismelf to some of the food and drink.

Joe Smith clapped with the rest, and wondered when this whole event would be over with. One of the reasons he had come here was so he wouldn't have to sit through any more of these celebrations, sucking up to others, to scrounge for funding, and grants for his research. He couldn't wait to get out of here and get down to some real work.

“Very taciturn gentlemen aren’t they,” Albin muttered to himself as he descended the stairs and deposited his plate gently on a passing waiter. It had seemed a party was perhaps the wrong idea, at least for Albin, he never enjoyed social events very much.

As the front door banged open and he saw a man hurriedly shuffle in head for the buffet clearly not wanting to attract more attention than he had in slamming the door open. Under the old adage of misery loves company Albin shuffled through the crowd towards the man, who had taken his seat at a circular table, and was carefully looking over his food. Deftly the Bishop sat down at a chair next to the man once he had maneuvered his way past a tag team of waiters, and associated staff. As he sat he gave a hurried friendly smile, “Hello, I couldn’t help but notice you, my own table seems rather set in it’s discussion of, well I’m not entirely sure, so I thought I’d try another location. Although I must say when I applied for the Institute I did not believe it would be gala and cake. I am Albin Retirun by the way, a Waldenburger,” he added almost sourly as if disgusted of the fact, “could I inquire why you were late?”

"I was late as my helicopter was delayed from takeoff: I flew it here myself. I also had to ensure the items in my lab were kept "secure", so that nobody had the misfortune of taking serious injury or disrupting my equipment."

"Secure, may I pry into that? I suppose it is a wise step, that perhaps I should take as well, although the most dangerous thing I own is ink." Albin paused and forced himself to say it, "I'm an Experimental Theologian, by the way, so I imagine whatever security issues you have are far more pressing than mine."

"Well, I am an experimental physicist, dealing in the field of particle relations on a temporal scale... but then I doubt that means much to you. I have some rather expensive and irreplaceable equipment, of which someone could do a great deal of rather unusual damage to their body with. What is an experimental theologian? I have never heard of such a profession."

"Hmm You're right there," Albin sucked air between his teeth and continued, "as for Experimental Theologians, it is a new field, one that has received some very bad press lately. That's partially why I came here, but it is the field of belief. I can say, make you, within the next week believe in anything you care to name, that is the best I can do as an explanation. It is much easier when they are established items or beliefs of course, such as a deity or, the tooth fairy for example. There is a small portion of the Pariental lobe, that with the correct stimulus, can make people believe in what they know not to exist . I have for the last, oh twenty years say, been studying what makes people believe, and more importantly how to fire the neurons necessary.

A lot of my profession in pulling the rabbit from the hat, and puffs of smoke, but I seem to get by so far anyway. Though it means nothing to me, what harm exactly can one come to in the laboratory of a physicist? Not going to blow us all apart are you?"

"If someone tampers with it, it could rip a hole in space-time as it did in the 1990's in a government research lab. That's what it can do. Or it could rip your body into shreds and distribute it evenly amongst the laboratory. Which is not very pleasant for me when I have to clean up."

"Ah, security sounds a very practical measure then. It is written in a Waldenburger Hexateuch that something very messy happened like that in the 800's, on some sort of solar holiday of the pagans. Naturally the Church ascribed the demons, or messy explosion, or what have you to Godlessness and what not. It goes on to say that is why silver is vastly abundant in our country, demon's blood in the fields or something, not exactly scientific but if I may proceed under that notion of apocolypse, it does most graphically explain the situation. Which government by the way, and I don't think I caught your name."

"Well, my name is Dr Thi'lo Rei'soi and I used to work on some rather secretive projects for the Alfegan government. As it is, I came here to try and release to the world this discovery of mine in true detail, and its applications... though it would take up rather a large quantity of energy, which I hope the Institution is paying for!"

Mona Eve Livonia-Campbell tugged at the back of her suit coat. The mood was certainly stuffy, but something about the event comforted her. Other galas she had attended harbored a thinly-veiled air of competition. But here, at The Brookings Institute, she did not feel threatened. As she looked around her table, she noticed that the other Fellows were immersed in deep conversation. Their plates sat pristine and untouched.

Mona was surprised. She had rarely seen intellectuals sharing a genuine conversation. Normally, her peers fretted and preened, pretending to be more aesthetically chic or relevant. “Maybe it’s because they’re scientists,” Mona thought.

As she looked around the table, Mona noticed a pleasant-looking Fellow seated to her left. She turned and extended a greeting.

“Excuse me,” Mona said. “I don't believe we've met.”