NationStates Jolt Archive

For centuries now the Geletians have been seen as a poor relation on the European continent. Unprecedented casualty rates in the Great War, and crushing defeat to Russia in the Second World War only served to reinforce that view.

But who remembers that Akink, Pearl of the Danube, Heart of Europe, Capital of Freedom, was the first city in continental Europe and the second in the world to build an underground railway? Or that Geletians invented the noiseless match, the krypton electric lightbulb, and, er, of course the magic cube? The Quinntonians who invented the digital watch and the oral contraceptive pill were of Geletian descent, as unappreciative visitors will be told more times than they would really care to hear. Geletia accidentally achieved jet-powered flight before World War I, and of course there was the nineteenth century rocket-powered boat and the entirely well-fated aluminium-skinned airship. Don't even think of using a ball-point pen to write ill of Geletian modernity!

Yes, Beddgelert is indeed more than a second-rate contributer to the European and wider world!

So, today the Beddgelen capital is opened to that wide world as the League of Beddgelen Communists hosts a climate action conference with scientific developments at its heart. So, come to Akink, bathe in the Gellért Baths, steel yourself for the local wine, and hear the Democratic Republic's well-informed and entirely wise plans for environmentally sound economic, industrial, and social reform!

(OOC: Why not, eh? Conference to get us all going (at each other's throats)!)

More out of interest than having any official power of any kind, Dr. Rev. Jonathan Berg, a Quinntonian environmental scientist of some repute arrives with a small group of advisors. Included in this group was a small Canadian delegation including the Green Party leader Elizabeth May and her personal friend and Canadian icon, Dr. David Suzuki. They were here to both bring this issue to the fore in their home nations and network with other activists from other nations. They were ready and willing to talk, it was just unclear as to what effect that it would have on policy back home.

WWJD
Amen.

Hold a conference, and the Lyongese were bound to come... middle-aged bureaucrats in suits who would carry on for hours about the People's Republic's great achievements in clean energy projects and reduction of emissions from fossil fuels before linking the environmental movement to the Great Anti-Japanese Anti-Imperial Struggle. In singing its own praises, Spyr could certainly draw upon domestic developments such as its nuclear and hydroelectric power, which had reduced PRS consumption of coal and petroleum along with associated emissions. The damage to ecosystems caused by damming major rivers would be conveniently ignored, and the Lyongese plan for disposal of nuclear waste seems to be based on the idea that human ingenuity will find a solution someday, so why worry about it at all?
It might also help if they'd reduced the amount of coal they continued to dig up instead of turning around and exporting it elsewhere.

Those active in the global environmental movement would already be familiar with such issues... Lyong's native environmentalist movement could be quite vocal in its criticisms of Party policy, and were taking advantage of the summit at Akink to get their message out at home, but as was usually the case none had been able to wrangle an appointment to the delegation.

That the Strathdonians would attend woudl also be without a doubt although they would be peddling the line of "save the world, buy rights to our awesome low fuel consumption aero engines" aswell as tryign someone to sell them more biogas reactors...

Straddling the Danube, Akink rates as one of the more beautiful cities in Europe -and, as such, the world-, having barely begun to implement Sopworth Igo's Systemisation, which left many other cities in the BDR, such as the nation's largest city, Trevenya, resembling stacks of concrete Lego, when he was replaced in the Premiership by comrade Chivo. Still, the great agro-alimentary complex looming over much of the city does represent something of a pimple on the otherwise fair face of Akink.

The environmental conference would be hosted at Portmeirion, traditional seat of power to the Durcodi tribe. Located atop Gellért Hill overlooking the Danube, the scene at which -folklore has it- the Geletians first settled, Portmeirion became Llewellyn's favourite retreat, and today it displays the eclectic architectural tastes of at least three quite different eras, one expressing Celtic romanticism, one Russian influence, and one Communist modernity.

The people here about used to be famous as warriors, but the slaughter of the twentieth century sated the bloody appetite of the Durcodi, and the Principality, say his Geletian peers, spoiled him.

Still, progressing through the city to the conference facilities, guests will be invited by local attaches to notice the handsomeness with which the Durcodi are also credited amongst the Geletians. It has been said of both Akink and Trevenya that, "here is the Paris of Eastern Europe!", but while Akinkers sometimes dispute that they are even in Eastern Europe, most Trevenyanites are happy to let their decadent cousins have the distinction, and within Beddgelert Akink's people have much the same reputations as the Parisians.

Discussing this matter for too long is sure to induce protests from a member of the Parisii tribe, who will draw attention to his capital, Lutetia, so we shall move on!

General Secretary of the Central Committee of the League of Beddgelen Communists comrade Graeme Igo awaits at Portmeirion, along with a great many Beddgelens in Modern National Dress, well presented before the international community.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/prisoner.jpg
For reference, comrade Chivo, Candidate No.6 in the Chairmanship Election that brought him to power, wearing Modern National Dress


(OOC: Unexpectedly run out of time. Make yourselves comfortable, eh!)

Representing his Highness Tsar Pyotr the IV and the Kieven Empire are Baron Isaak Treshenko from the Committee for Better Industry and Sir Misha Putskar (Order of Saint Andrew) from the Kieven Atomic Energy Agency.
Baron Isaak is a strong opponent of the global warming theory and plans on delivering a one hour presentation of his “little ice age” theory. He also has instructed his interpreter not to censor any cuss words but rather to find good cultural equivalents instead, allowing him to drive home his point with a stronger tone.
Sir Misha was awarded the Order of Saint Andrew, the highest order of chivalry in the empire, for his contribution to the fallout dome project at the Chernobyl disaster site. He is currently the overseer of safety design in 3 current atomic energy projects. Sir Misha will be at the Akink accords to talk about Kieven Rus’ ongoing maintenance of the Chernobyl site and to promote modern Kieven nuclear power plants as a safe and environmentally friendly, as well doing a presentation on the world’s first floating nuclear power plant, first announced by Kieven Rus year ago.

It came as no surprise to most nations that the Tsar opted out of negotiations of any kind towards international agreements on climate action. Kieven Rus has long been known for turning a blind eye towards environment damage, most recently the shoddy cleanup operation of a large pipe line rupture that spilled millions of litres of oil into a Siberian wetland, and has run into trouble many times with exports containing unlisted contaminants such as PCBs.

The government of Rome and the Caesar Romulus Magnus are represented by Senator Mauritias Nequam of Iberia, the head of the Environmental Department of the Roman government. Shortly after stepping onto the tarmac from the Dassault Falcon 900 that transported him from his office in Rome, he entered an H3 Hummer, which was bought delivered earlier for him from the USQ. Senator Nequam would first meet with the Kieven delegation before continuing on to speak with the Quinntonians and other delegations.

The Roman Senator is the first visitor to hit the headlines in the BDR. After his, "mobile toolshed" as such 'cars' are popularly known in Beddgelert (for it is impossible to sit inside one without immediately looking like a giant tool), was pelted with eggs and flour-bombs on its way through the city, and two people were briefly detained by security forces.

The League of Beddgelen Communists had to request on national television that people not egg the dignitaries, saying that the government did not want to be forced to increase security and distance the people from the political event. "You may be throwing an egg" says the press release, "but he [a Gelert Sentinel holding an AIMS carbine is pictured at this point] may think you're planning to throw a bomb".

Portmeirion

Once inside the conference facility, a large roundhouse built largely according to tradition and featuring several large fires, oddly enough, dignitaries are offered water, and tea from Tamil Eelam, and comrade Igo invites everyone to sit at a long table.

Apparently, the first phase of the meeting will be conducted over a feast, as is the Geletian tradition. It seems that delegates will have to interspace their discussions of climate change and government policy with requests for some more of that ham, and pass the mashed potatoes, if you wouldn't mind!

Over to the side of the room, a giant tank of a hound demolishes a hunk of meat, and Igo, appearing not to notice the beast, introduces himself and asks the assembly to do the same.

A small team from the Dominion Energy Association (head honchos of companies such as Sino Crude and Chinese Uranium, as well as other smaller energy companies) has expressed an interest in attending. A heavy security team will also be on site as Chinese companies are expected to face some public backlash following Leo Ma's condemnation of the Emissions Protocol* (Kyoto?). Much of the delegation consisted of PR spinners and media relations people, indicating that the companies would attempt damage control following Ma's rejection of the protocol.

The minister of Environment had sent a low-ranking lackey whose name was omitted from the arrangements, possibly by accident or by a lack of space at the bottom of the page (which had been made smaller than usual to save paper). Perhaps he would attempt to confront any delegates from Beijing over acid rain.

Akink, BDR

Daniel Spader didn't much enjoy being shuttled off to various conferences on unimportant matters, especially not ones which would require him to be accompanied by energy agency coneheads. Having spent four hours cooped up in a chartered Boeing 757 with eleven doctors and innumerable staff weenies, Spader was glad to deplane in Akink. The Bedgellan escort/attache that met Spader's delegation was a woman, and quite a pretty one, with whom he struck up a conversation in his fairly good Geletian.

The ride was pleasant as well, owing to the fact that Akink was, for all the BDR's economic meddling and general foolishness, a beautiful city. The British motorcade rather one-upped the Romans by renting a small fleet of quite fuel efficient–and still stylish–Jaguar executive cars decorated with little Union flags and Royal coats of arms. Spader managed to secure both the attache and a car for himself, leaving his staff to mill about in confusion and eventually catch the subway to the conference. He asked, feigning curiosity, about some of the more grand buildings that the motorcade passed, and generally attempted to flirt with the pretty Geletian. Given the speed at which the motorcade traveled through Akink, he had roughly twenty minutes to draw out her phone number or secure a promise to 'show him the sights' after the conference broke up for the day.

They arrived rather too soon for Spader's tastes, but as the nominal chief representative of Her Majesty Victoria II, he couldn't really back out to continue his pursuit of a pretty face. He slipped out of the car with a smile to his hostess and hurried over to the remainder of his delegation. After a few moments of shepherding, Spader managed to lead them all in some semblance of order into the meeting room, where his senses were assaulted by what appeared to be a feast officiated by an old man and a dog the size of a small house. The old man was Igo, Spader knew that much, and the dog probably had some kind of significance to the Celts.

In a piece of either calculated provocation or colossal foolishness, the British delegation was seated next to the Romans. Spader took his seat next to some chap in Roman senatorial garb and resisted the urge to make a passing reference to Monty Python's Life of Brian. He settled in for a long and rather unpleasant evening, mitigated only by the presence of a number of rather attractive serving girls and a profusion of strong 'ale' that would no doubt have the scientists, unprepared for Geletian drink, plastered before the main course.

"Er, pass the bread, would you Mr... Roman?"

Ceylon's delegation arrives in Akink not long after the British, though much later than intended thanks to an unsurprising mix-up in travel arrangements. The diplomats themselves were not put-off by their unintentional eight-hour stopover at an East African airport, but the same could not have been said for officials back in Colombo. Deputy energy minister Matlan Yusof leads the Ceylonese mission, which includes, besides Yusof, ten other negotiators and some 32 functionaries. The deputy minister himself is not an expert on environmental issues, but with him in Akink are some of the Republic's foremost scientists and researchers, recently the architects of Parliamentary policy.

Embassy staff in Akink, informed by Colombo with only hours to spare, did somehow manage to organize transportation for Yusof and the 42 other members of his delegation, and at the airport Ceylonese diplomats meet the deputy minister with three rather worn chartered vans. Accommodation is a topic that the embassy workers are very careful to avoid.

While the rest of the chinese delegation sat where all the labcoats and industry bigwigs went, the minister of environment took a seat opposite the Romans and the British government representatives. This was going to be interesting. He also took a good look at the Russian delegate, and wondered how long it would take before the two men would attempt to intimidate the poor Englishman. It was a pity that there were no delegates representing the oil industry, he thought. Guangzhou was keen to open up (disputed) tenements near Taiwan for exploration and this seemed like the perfect time to send out diplomatic feelers.

Wow. The Geletian Ale was powerful stuff, he thought as the foam from the beer nearly shot back out his nose. The corporate table would definitely be a rowdy bunch after an hour. He decided to keep out of the Anglo-Roman food fight and read through some of the material on floating reactors the Russian delegation was handing out to everyone.

(OOC: I was just assuming that Kyoto probably hasn't happened. Perhaps the notion of an AMW equivalent will be raised at Akink. I seem to be down on E-time, lately. Feel free to mill about and interact, get this restarted AMW familiar with itself. I'm going to amble towards something, but I'm not sure how quickly it'll happen.)

On the way through Akink, the Briton, Spader, got a fair bit of conversation out of his attache, who introduced herself as Gertrud, which may have been mildly disappointing to a non-native expecting something a little more elegant from a young woman who was part lofty, bright-eyed Celt and party minority dark-featured Magyar. In any case, she didn't seem particularly put off by his attention, and though stopping short of arranging a date or such, she did make it clear that, since she was basically assigned to him, they could expect to see more of one another before the visit was over, assuming of course that he was staying throughout the programme?

On the way she'd pointed out the agro-alimentary complex, where most city people went, after being given the basics, to get a few extras from producers who'd run a surplus (or, as she didn't say, squirreled away the best apples or what have you while lying about their output figures and paying-off any government inspectors with the proceeds from selling their best stuff under the state's nose, indeed under it's ridiculously huge dome of a roof!). Then there was the Geletian Rules Football stadium and one of the city's association football -soccer- grounds, and so on and so forth. The less said about that the better, since Beddgelen and British football fans had quite the history built on the rare occasions that had seen teams from their leagues meet.

Inside the meeting hall at Portmeirion it would soon become apparent that a good deal of Beddgelen experts and lobbyists were going to thicken out the crowd rather. Over there was an apparatchik currently assigned to a major study of foreign residential building codes as far as energy conservation is concerned, not far from him an experienced designer in the Beddgelen automotive industry, and ripping into some bread and cheese that had lately materialised, a near fifteen year veteran at the top of the BDR's once continentally-significant oil industry, who had just weeks ago been shifted to the state coal firm.

The setting was almost frighteningly informal, and a few Blackjackets -GSIC operatives in modern-national dress- were looking ever more conspicuous by their growing discomfort.

Straight-laced line-toeing members of the League of Communists of Beddgelert, these were essentially the meeting's political officers, and were clearly unhappy that civilian agencies had been allowed to organise -if that word could indeed be applied here- the gathering, even if it was one that the Old Guard (which, ironically, was made up of the supports of Graeme's son) had opposed.

The Ceylonese need not have worried about accommodation. The city, while not quite so well provided for in this respect as the more systemised towns, was in no shortage of communal dormitories, if nothing else could be found. More unregulated disorderly civilian nonsense for the boys in black to wring their hands about.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/kangel1.jpg
The great 'kan-gel' Geletian working dog tucks in. It shares with countless others what is in post-Llewellyn Geletia the most popular name for dog: Gelert. As in, Prince Llewellyn Map Gelert.

The Roman government conveys its displeasure to the BDR about the lack of security at the Akink Accords and around the delegates attending the conference. However they are pleased at how the BDR reacted to the incident. Rome sends a small detachment to increase their own security around their precious senator.

Senator Nequam had a great deal of reservations of sitting next to the British delegation at the banquet and tried to get his seat switched to no avail. Caesar Romulus ordered him to be amenable to the West powers, and that included Britain. But there was no way he was being friendly. Not a chance. So for the most part, Nequam ignored the British snob.

"Er, would you pass the bread, Mr....Roman?"

Nequam stared at the Brit for a slow second, before reaching over and grabbing the plate of bread and placing it in front of the Brit's plate. "There is your bread, Mr. British," Nequam replied, his English barely recognizable beneath a heavy Spanish accent, "Tell me, what is your country's view on this supposed 'climate crisis'?"

Hail Caesar!

Deputy Minister Yusof arrives at the banquet a good deal later than most of the other attendees, and he apologizes to his hosts and the other assembled diplomats before taking his seat, an inoffensive spot between the Chinese and the Strathdonians. His tardiness, Yusof might explain if pressed, is due largely to the difficulties of working-out suitable dining arrangements for his staff; not many restaurants in Akink were ready for a party of 42 on very short notice, and Yusof would not hear of his subordinates munching on sandwiches in the embassy kitchen while he himself feasts on the finest Bedgellen cuisine.

Ostensibly a Muslim, Matlan Yusof nonetheless shows no aversion to the drink put in front of him, and is within a short time unusually talkative and sociable. It will become clear to those present that Yusof isn't exactly an expert on much of anything, but he is a fairly pleasant person to be around, polite, full of jokes and an excellent storyteller. Yusof figures that Ceylon, being a small nation, doesn't have much prestige to protect, so he feels no shame in excusing himself at one point to visit the bathroom. That strong Bedgellen ale, a bit too strong for Yusof, needs to be let out somewhere, and Colombo would never forgive him if he threw up on the carpet in front of so many foreign dignitaries! Quite drunk but still admirably composed, Yusof floats back into the room with only the barest perceptible stagger.

Back at the Ceylonese embassy Yusof's large troupe of assistants, quite satisfied with their ample dinners, spend much of the late evening preparing documents and briefings for the negotiations to come. Doubtless many will still be awake when the Deputy Minister returns from his banquet.

As the day progressed, a keen observer might have noticed a raised eyebrow and hand waved under the table from Graeme Igo to the main door, turning back a couple of strapping young fellows with a one and a half metre tall vessel full of sloshing liquid suspended between them. Evidently Graeme had concluded that the foreigners had taken quite enough ale and really didn't need Geletian wine, at least as strong as the most formidable port, added to the mix.

Soon enough the ale would have run out, leaving tea, water, and stacks of various breads, cheeses, thick soups and broths, and spit-roasted meats, some seasoned with Tamil spices.

"Ah" Graeme spoke up, rising from his seat at one end of the long table. "Perhaps you would like to come over to the long-window for a moment, while some of our friends here reassemble the table into a shape more conducive to equal discussions, and watch a little display?"

Sure enough, a number of local workers had assembled at the side of the room, and were waiting to pull apart the table, arranged for dining, into a circle. It was difficult, of course, to reach across a huge round table to grab a hunk of mutton, hence the earlier long-table configuration.

From the window, a long, narrow slit through almost a third of the curved wall of the great roundhouse (a step was provided below the window, which was apparently set at optimal Geletian height), delegates could get a good view of the city sprawling below Gellért Hill, and above it an airshow beginning. A couple of IAG-80 WWII-era fighters were buzzing about, recalling the early days of significant Geletian aircraft design.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/300px-IAR-80.jpg

Shortly, a jet engine could be heard drawing closer, ripping the firmamental cape that hung over Akink, and suddenly, from behind the roundhouse, an aircraft previously unseen outside of the BDR came hurtling into view, twisting acrobatically and then loitering over the city in plain view for some moments before blasting away with an almighty bang and a lick of flame.

"Ah, my friends, the table is prepared." Said Graeme.

As the delegates dine and mingle, the Strainists generally attempt to pretend the Kievens don't exist, while trying to convince everyone else of the link between climate change and feudal imperialism... an argument which might hold some merit given Kieven and Roman attitudes towards the environment. The point is unfortunately undercut by an obvious double standard, with condemnation of rampant 'imperial' pollution accompanied by defense of the Chinese following a similar path, with blame shifted to 'the imperial cabal in Tokyo and its continued occupation of Formosa, against which the Chinese people must constantly struggle'. Meanwhile, Spyran proposals to reduce global carbon emissions, such as installation of nuclear micro-reactors to power individual city blocks, will likely garner as much concern as interest.

When it comes to dining on Geletian cuisine, the Lyongese make a respectable attempt to hide their discomfort... when one wanders so far from civilization, after all, one must forgive the barbarians for tossing large hunks of things onto a table and calling it a meal, as they just don't know any better. Still, most are relieved when Graeme Igo calls everyone away to watch a display of aerobatics, and the show recieves a smattering of Spyran applause, if only because it marks the end of the ordeal.

"Certainly more enlightened than that of yours, I daresay," was Spader's only response, as he delicately attempted to butter his bread with the giant cleaver provided as a knife. The Spyrans, he noted over the resulting noises of irritation from the Roman section, seemed rather perplexed by the whole meal, and were attempting not to speak to anyone or request that anything be passed too far. They were making do with a lump of salad and some nuts, which was an entirely unsatisfactory dinner by the expressions on their faces. Spader hid a smile. By the time the meal had adjourned he was entirely full and rather more drunk than he had planned for, which required him to stick close to walls and not attempt anything adventurous like making any sharp turns. The airshow, though probably impressive, passed in a sort of liquor-induced haze that suggested he should tread carefully in coming negotiations, and when he turned around he was alarmed to see that the tables had been moved.

He sidled up to one of the other British delegates, a rotund fellow in a ridiculous tweed jacket who was head researcher of something related to clouds at some university somewhere, and asked where they were sitting. The scientist peered at him with surprise and took him by the elbow. Arriving at their seats, the British delegation made a great show of organizing papers and drinking the appalling stuff that the Geletians called tea. Spader noticed with pleasure that he was no longer seated next to the dour Roman, and instead took the opportunity to hobnob with Mr. Yusof, a table to his right.

Misha Putskar ate in silence, awkwardly smiling anytime he seemed to be addressed. Not knowing english had become a real problem when the kieven translator had disappeared somewhere between the hotel and the banquet hall. The Baron didn't seem to be having any problems mingling, his english wasn't top notch but the beverages served made him think he spoke quite well.
"Oh gosh, what's the baron doing now?" Misha thought. Baron Isaak had got up and was now hanging over the shoulders of two grumpy looking spyrans and laughing loudly. He talked loudly with the two of them for a few minutes before poking one in his rather chubby belly and messing up his hair. "Man of science indeed" thought Misha, quite unimpressed with his colleague. He got up for the second time to go wash his hands, the greasy chunk of meet was quite tasty but very drippy and Misha was a very clumsy man even when he wasn't drinking.
Misha took some time in the washroom, somehow he had got a big grease smear on his spectacles and it had taken him a while to get the lens satisfactorily clean. When he got back everyone was standing at the windows. He couldn't find the baron anywhere so he went and stood over by a roman delegate. He had studied vulgar latin in his university years and had kept it up quite well since, the problem was he wasn't entirely sure this roman spoke latin.


OOC: Is latin the national language in rome or are they speaking french/spanish/italian ect? Or maybe latin is the executive language while the local language are more locally used?

The minister of environmental affairs decides not to press the Spyrans on whether they supported the PR Chinese claim or the Dominion claim. He was after all not qualified to talk on these matter. The energy businessman were clearly interested in all things nuclear at this conference. The Spyran delegation had a few interested persons looking over their shoulders when they mentioned mini-reactors, with one overeager scientist immediately bombarding the delegates with questions about subcriticality ratio and all sorts of scientific mumbo jumbo. A few others from the chinese group attempted to strike up a conversation with the Russian Baron on floating reactors, but between their horribly accented english and the Baron's intoxication it appeared as though a dog chasing its own tail would get more accomplished.

Looking back at his colleagues, the minister of environmental affairs wondered why the heck nuclear scientists were sent to an environmental conference. He was the only one there with an environmental/oil and gas background, and his employers had even forgotten to add his name to the attendance sheet.

"Call me Dr Hu." the minister said to himself in a fairly loud voice, although it appeared that he was speaking to Spader and Yousuf.

During the feasting, a number of Geletians had given the Spyrians more than their fair share of suspicious looks, one holding up a large ham and turning it over several times, looking from it to the orientals with a squint. Hm. Organically raised meat marinated in spices from Tamil Eelam and they don't want any? Eventually he settled uncomfortably on the conclusion that the Strainists must somehow have got wind of the scale of industrial run-off from the Lutetia 5 coal-fired power station adjacent to the Parisii farmland on which much Beddgelen livestock was traditionally reared. Granted, this food was from less toxic climbs, but perhaps the Spyrians didn't know quite that much.

The flinching of the British delegation over the offered tea was noted with greater alarm by the slightly more refined Igo than by his meat-loving, ale-swilling comrades. Graeme caught himself shaking his head as he returned his own papers to the table, thinking on the ridiculousness of this global capitalism that had the British raised on mass-produced generic bagged tea from East Africa while the Beddgelens were enjoying sophisticated blends from Ceylon that no longer fitted with the polluted British palate.

When the gathering reassembled around the table, now reshaped into a nice communal circle, also reminiscent of certain other tables of note in the history of the Celts, Igo dabbed some context on proceedings.

"So, you see" he said, standing as somebody headed out of the roundhouse with the last of the leftovers from the feast, "and can be assured that while we have called a conference on climate action and energy sustainability, we in the BDR are not so much tree-huggers as meat-eaters, and not so much flower-powered as jet propelled." Igo gave half a nod to the window, through which vapour trails could still faintly be observed.

"It is important that powerful nations not take our present circumstances lightly. In Beddgelert we are acutely aware of the diminishment of petrochemical reserves. Ours once drove great European wars, but today we are preparing for a future in which we can not come close even to meeting our own needs. And perhaps, many of our most prestigious centres of learning tell us, this is no bad thing, and not a moment too soon, for our biosphere faces the real prospect of operational collapse while we stand at odds along political and ideological battle-lines. Serious nations must be serious about the finite nature of our resources and our world's ability to bear our debts."

OOC: Latin is used on the executive level by politicians and top military officials. When someone appointed as a Senator, an advisor to the Caesar, some other kind of public office, or a top military position that person is given a Latin name and must learn to speak Latin with some ease. Lower level military officers are taught introductory courses in Latin that they can build on should they be promoted to higher positions. Citizens and the local governments use the vernacular.

IC: Senator Nequam bit his tongue at the Brit's comment. Severe punishment would meet him back in Rome if he were to give a snide comment toward a delegate of one of the countries Caesar wanted to reconcile with. Nequam instead stood and walked away from the British delegation, heading for the window to watch the airshow in the skies above. Why did Caesar send him here? To their communist enemies? To mingle with these westerners that treated Romans with hatred and disdain? To speak of an environmental crisis that Rome did not believe, that the Senate was not willing to act on and Caesar had no interest in? What had he done so wrong that he deserved this treatment?

Unable to get an answer, Nequam turned to see the Russian Baron's aid step up beside him, "Ah," he said, beginning to speak in fluent Latin, "Good day. Do you understand?"

Hail Caesar!

Observing a lack of enthusiasm, Graeme curled his lip for a moment and tried to press on, perhaps drawing on those local Party meetings in which it is often best to get across the line and drag an agenda with you while half the presidium is snoozing. At least then you can stick out your chest and say you were in the right.

"Ah, the issues before us are two fold and only partially related. On-going climate change and the looming energy crisis. Or, if you are supportive of fringe sciences and maintaining that climate change is either mythical or even today part of an unavoidable natural cycle, potential climate change and the looming energy crisis."

Even Graeme, the most diplomatic and well-mannered of the Geletians, could only go so far as recognising that class enemies such as the Romans had opinions of their own, and could not bring himself to convey them without qualification.

"While most of us unhappily accept that our human industries are contributing to a creeping disaster, and one that may pounce suddenly upon having drawn unavoidably near, even those who still have doubts must surely agree that, with all of our modern powers and in our ever greater numbers, if we have not yet brought on such a climate crisis, we surely could. And indeed, we may, especially as South America, Africa, and Asia follow the industrial lead of Europe and North America.

"If you hold that climate change even so drastic as appears to be upon us is part of a natural cycle, surely you must still accept that the on-going destruction of forests and other natural carbon sinks and the release of previously locked-in carbon represents a complicating factor in such a cycle.

"My aim here today is to force, with a diplomatic bludgeon if need be, recognition of the truth from those lands in which reaction and conservatism besets even the field of science. If I must, I will author a new holy text, and the biospheric gods shall smite the unbelievers in storms of fire and blights of famine until one day a great flood washes away all these sinners.

"If you believe in the planet's climate cycles -and who does not?- you can easily enough understand them in a simplified form. If you do this, you can understand that we are directly intervening against their proper function.

"Let me say, the Beddgelen Democratic Republic considers such practices tantamount to war on ourselves. We must disengage."

Suddenly, Graeme looked a little red, and his breathing had become quicker and more shallow. In the periphery of the room, eyes previously wandering the enemy delegations were now uniformly fixed on Igo. It's a good job that most nations HAVEN'T taken this seriously enough to send anyone important. The old codger's lost it.

The Canadian delegation was quite happy with the more militant language that was used, as long as it stayed that way, language. Dr. Suzuki couldn’t help but grin at the words of this world leader, this statesman, this man of the future, when he seemed to have some kind of an attack. Not knowing the custom, he didn’t know if he should call out or ask if the man was all right. That and he was more than a little intimated, being rather diminutive, even for one of Japanese descent in a land seemingly peopled entirely by giants. As a geneticist, that was interesting, but as a polite Canadian, he was frozen. His friend next to him, the affable and smiling Elisabeth May, militant leader of the Green Party of Canada, had no such qualms and as her smile dropped and she shouted, turning her chubby face red, “What’s wrong with him? Is he OK?”

This, of course, was pretty much par for the course with the, shall we say, colourful Party Leader, which led more credible officials there from Canada to drop their heads in embarrassment, and caused the Quinntonian delegation to shake their heads in consternation, and wondering if they could maybe convince Ms. May that the carbon footprint that she would cause flying back home would not be worth it.

Behind the scenes the Quinntonians were preparing a presentation in which they would outline both some of the realities of their carbon-based economy and the challenges they faced, and what their plans/hopes for the future for North America was. Of course, it was widely known that support for the position of the Quinntonian delegation was uncertain at best, but they hoped that being visible at this event would garner some awareness and action back home.

WWJD
Amen.

Igo's impassioned words set several members of the Strainist delegation pounding fists against the table in a show of support. An anti-People anarchist he might be, but even in the days he had been condemning the Strainist Party the Lyongese had respected his ability to make a point.

In part because of this, the Spyrans are not so startled as some of the other delegates at the sight of Igo's reddening face. It will, many are certain, take more than a bit of yelling to shut the Celt up.

OOC-Just so everyone is clear, Ms. May is quite a big fan of everything that he is saying, and doesn't want to shut him up, rather, she honestly is worried that something might be wrong with the poor guy.

A ripple of applause splashed around the circular room as Beddgelens, including the GSIC Blackjackets sat by the wall, made use of years of practice in communal speaking... and listening.

"Thank you, comrade General Secretary." Chivo, where had he come from? "We all must admit it, there is a need for adjustment in our procedures. What sense does it make to assume that everything was being done right, from the planet's point of view?" Chivo raised his tankard to Graeme, essentially forcing him to return the gesture and in doing so take a drink from his tankard, which, unlike many others around the table so far this day, contained only water.

"Thank you, comrade Chairman." Replied Igo, almost kicking himself as soon as he'd finished. Frustrated outbursts and fiery speeches aside, Graeme was still reputed as the most innately mild mannered and haplessly polite of his countrymen. He wasn't sure why he had to go and thank Chivo, who even now was ushering him aside. Really, where had he popped up from? The Chairman of the Council of State of the BDR was every bit the ex-Blackjacket, that was unmistakable. Always sneaking up on you, always hearing what you thought he would not.

"One Beddgelo-centric example of adaptive reform that I am pleased to be able to announce today" Said Chivo, drawing a piercing gaze from Igo, who was now retaking his seat and hoping that his starched jacket would go far enough to disguising his defeated slump. "is the adoption by the League of Beddgelen Communists of a new energy plan."

Once again applause from the Beddgelens, despite the lack of specifics to this point. Chivo went on.

"With our once abundant petroleum reserves, which in the past drove much of Europe, now declining towards just one billion proven barrels, the BDR is planning an oil-free future. I can confirm that existing coal and oil-fired power plants will not be replaced in kind."

Keen observers may notice Graeme at this point reaching inside his jacket and grasping something as if almost unconsciously responding to some cue, the corner of a small bundle of papers briefly protruding before he stuffed them back inside, reassured that he had them to hand.

"New hydro-electrical plants will be brought on-line, and, as elderly fossil-fuel facilities are gradually decommissioned, we expect to begin generating for the first time our own, clean, reliable nuclear power."

Rather isolated in the world since quitting the Tsarist bloc and alienating the Progintern with all sorts of radical splittism, the BDR had long been known to possess some radiological materials and some research reactors dating from the era of Russian co-operation, but to suggest that a sophisticated nuclear power generation programme was essentially ready to go represented quite the leap. As if it were inconsequential, the Chairman kept on talking.

"These will be backed, of course, by solar, wind, and wave power, which according to recent studies are expected to contribute between them a few percent of our national needs.

"Now, in conjunction with this, and in keeping with what my honoured comrade has said about our, ah, pragmatic nature as jet-fueled meat-eating Celts" Chivo smiled and raised his tankard again, "I can confirm the order to begin construction of a major new facility that will create diesel and even jet fuel from our nation's still-existing coal reserves. The fuel produced from this modern process has been shown by our universities to produce fewer greenhouse emissions than that derived from crude oil."

Chivo smiled and nodded to his comrades who were once again lashing on the applause. Graeme joined in after a moment, having again been fiddling at his inner jacket pocket and glancing in May's direction during Chivo's last announcement.

"I think" said Chivo over unabating applause, "that we can all take sensible steps forward, such as this, and agree that it makes industrial and environmental sense."

Senator Nequam sat in silence, his arms crossed across his chest, never lifting them for a single clap of the hand. His face looked almost as red as Igo's and surely the two of them made eye contact for at least one tense moment. If the man wanted a war, he would be given one. We beat you out of Greece, he thought, We can beat you out of Europe!

Nequam couldn't help but to admit that the Beddegellert plan was ambitious. It would certainly take some looking into, through indirect channels of course, to determine the viability and cost of the endeavor. Perhaps, if presented to Caesar in the right fashion, such a plan could work in Rome. But then again, it all sounded so expensive.

Hail Caesar!

Spader found himself nodding along to Igo's vociferously proclaimed ideas. The old man might be an unreformed communist, might be a stated enemy of his (and every) government, but he was a talented speaker. Point rolled after point in a rising and falling tone that gradually built to crescendo, and like most of the moderate environmentalists in the room Spader was surprised to see his hands clapping along with the rest. True, Igo's enthusiasm was surprising and, indeed, a little comical. On the other hand, nothing terribly important had ever gotten done by people of only tepid committment.

"While I don't suppose that Misters Igo, Chivo and I would agree on methods," Spader said as the Bedgellan Gen-Sec finished speaking, "I must commend him and his government upon the rapidity with which they have seized the climate change issue in hand. I am pleased to announce that Britain is also encouraging the production of solar, nuclear and wind powerplants through tax breaks and other positive incentives for green industry.

"Obviously the UK cannot mandate a changeover to green power, since our political and economic systems don't allow us to do something like that. On the other hand, through the use of the aforementioned incentives as well as the demands of British consumers, we've been steadily reducing our emissions of harmful chemicals, as well as greenhouse gasses."

Hm...the coal liquidation technology mentioned by Chivo sounded very interesting, Dr Hu thought. The Dominion would be able to secure self-sufficiency in energy for decades, even centuries, if such resources were managed well and the majority of liquid hydrocarbons were imported.

"We are pleased to hear the support for clean energy from both Britain and the BDR," Dr Hu said.

"The Dominion is actively pursuing and laying the foundations for a carbon trading system in order to discourage the use of fossil fuel power generation, and believe such a system allows environmental concerns and economic concerns to be treated equally." he continued, conveniently ignoring the fact that politically the legislation was dead in the water after the election.

Chivo, noticing, he thought, slightly more genuine interest in the liquid coal project, concerned himself outwardly with conveying the BDR's pleasure at hearing the positive environmental messages from Britain and China.

Igo, too, thought he had noticed the same perking of interest in several delegations, and only felt more depressed for it. Though recent developments, including many in the BDR, to the almost ninety year old Fischer-Tropsch process that had helped oil-starved Germany through much of the Second World War had made it less wasteful than was previously the case, finding ways to continue the conversion of some byproducts, and indeed as Chivo suggested the BDR was capable of producing cleaner-burning fuels, Graeme was much more skeptical about the emissions from the process itself, and not looking forward to a future in which the Chinese, British, and Quinntonians, as well as the Beddgelens, operated vast coal mines and liquefaction plants that belted out carbon emissions at a nightmarish rate.

Chivo was already talking about selling related Beddgelen technologies abroad, the BDR having apparently invested hundreds of millions on the quiet in recent years to make the project a reality.

As the talks began to break up, and delegates clumped into groups roughly delineated by power blocs, Spader took his chance to accomplish the mission that the Foreign Office had actually sent him to Akink for. Given the nature of the conference, the presence of a high-level diplomat was somewhat strange, and Spader had spent most of the event sobering up after his earlier indiscretion with Bedgellan wine. By the time he approached Comrade Secretary Chivo and his cluster of aides, therefore, he was largely in control of himself and back to his usual, urbane image. At a break in conversation, he inserted himself into Chivo's clump and extended his hand.

"Comrade Chivo," he began with a diplomat's practiced warmth. "My name is Daniel Spader. I'd like to talk to you about some of the things you brought up during the meeting, particularly the Fischer-Tropsch process. Additionally, there are some British firms–I know, private companies aren't really the rage here, but I promise that their worker standards are high–that have made some impressive gains in the solar and wind departments which might prove to be useful to you." He paused for a moment, letting the novelty of a British delegate talking with a Bedgellan minister dissipate a bit. "I suppose that in a Europe so broken up along ideological lines, it can only help to exchange ideas and the like. Especially given some of our neighbors."

Chivo took his time in accepting Spader's handshake, examining the fellow with an expression fixed in a restrained smile before deciding that, yes, it was acceptable to be seen embracing this Briton in a diplomatic context.

"Indeed, Daniel." He said, in his Communistic I can call anyone by their first name sort of way. "The bourgeois system is as good as any other at generating new ideas, and has at least as much as any to learn, so there is no reason why we shouldn't have things to share."

Apparently, Chivo was quite taken with the industrial romance of coal, because he had quite a berth of ready statistics, happily comparing what he claimed to be Britain's annual coal production -seventeen million tonnes- with Beddgelert's -seventy five million tonnes- before perhaps with a little less pride getting to the matter of the near four hundred million tonnes dragged out of Australia and New Zealand every year.

"Of course you can just keep on exporting your Australian coal to the Chinese, who seem unable to get enough of it despite leading world output, but what's the use of that if you only have to spend the revenues importing oil? Better to help British industry by turning coal into diesel and jet fuel!"

Obviously Chivo wasn't interested in entertaining talk of the out-sourcing of heavy industry to the developing world, rejection of which was a feature of the modern Beddgelen industrial economy.

"Many would like to see Beddgelen liquefaction and gasification technologies implemented in Britain in return for the creation of worker-managed or socially-owned enterprises to operate them. On the other hand, I think that the Democratic Republic could benefit from other things, such as closer looks at industries in Britain related to the modern production of titanium bar for jet engine blades, or the latest innovations in nuclear safety or digital processing capacity, or what have you. There are many ways to ferment interest."

"Please understand," Spader said genially, "most of those negotiations will have to be carried out with the specific companies involved. They shouldn't be hard to contact, if your government decides to go ahead with it." He was pleased. Truth to tell, neither he nor the Foreign Office had expected to be able to engage in even so informal a dialogue with Chivo or another of the BDR's officials, and though both parties were wary there seemed to be little to prevent a civil, if casual discussion.

"Obviously we aren't going to agree on the particulars of economics," Spader continued with a wry grin. "That's not really the point though; both of our governments are committed to personal freedom and human rights, and on that score at least we can agree." He glanced around, noting the slowly thawing attitudes of the two groups of flunkies and staffers. "I'm really interested in talking about trade between our two countries. I don't like to mince words, so I'll get straight to the point: the trade barriers that have sprung up between Britain and the Democratic Republic during the Cold War are just preventing us from exchanging goods and ideas, and I think that it would be in our mutual interest to discuss the future of Anglo-Bedgellan trade." Surrounded now by a mix of British and Bedgellan aides, each of whom was busy conducting some form of business or making small-talk, Spader took a few steps to his right and secured a chair at the increasingly empty table. "If you have a moment, perhaps we could sit and discuss these matters? I'm afraid your wine has made me a bit weak at the knees." Not strictly true, but a decent opening nonetheless.

Chivo went along with Spader and took a seat, too, though he sat forward and upright in it. He'd smiled politely as the Briton complained about wobbly knees. Usually visitors from that part of the world were amongst the most keen to take on the infamous Geletian beverages, but that meant little in the end result. Still, it had been a while since anyone had actually killed themselves in a diplomatic context. Not since that Czech envoy a few years back went after the gut-rot like it was Budvar.

"Yes, I, personally, would like to see trade getting back on its feet. The Spyrians don't seem to have much interest in Beddgelen computers or even our digital watches, and theirs are invariably too small or too fragile for Geletian hands." The Chairman was smiling a little more honestly now, casting a cheeky glance across the room. He was bigger than Graeme, but still something of a dwarf next to most of his peers, who couldn't go over-seas without being hassled about the weather up there, or the state of their basketball careers.

On that matter, Chivo wanted to talk a particular sort of trade. At least, some of his hangers-on wanted him to do so, and he was getting lots of glances from the lot still standing with Spader's entourage. Sigh. The least important part. May as well get it out of the way so we can talk about real industry.

"If things are going to be better between us, perhaps it'll soon be time to negotiate a new set of travel agreements. Beddgelert's tourism potential, so I'm told, is badly under exploited, what with our twenty four centuries of continuous Geletian civilisation and our Black Sea beaches. Meanwhile, if you were to go to the ale house, theatre, or one of the pagan festivals here you'd hear a lot of romantic talk about Cymru, or else find somebody who wants to compete at the Highland games or perform at a real Eisteddfod.

"Still" Chivo shifted in his seat, looking off to the side in no particular direction, "if we were to launch some sort of reciprocal tourist initiative, we'd need some assurances on our end that we'd get people back, and not see them skipping off to Quinntonia or wherever else. How can we ever solve the national problems if everybody leaves?" The Secretary repeated his (in)famous 1989 question, first asked during the Geletian Spring, or February Revolution.

He wanted to bring up the question of capital goods and currency taken abroad, some of it to Britain, GSIC was sure, by nobles and capitalists who'd fled since 1982, but couldn't really do so without inviting questions about the debts run up by the First Republic during the '80s.

"There are new air traffic controls coming in, soon, in relation to fuel economy and emissions." He added. "We'll have to factor all of this in if we plan a tourism exchange."

Spader noted Chivo's slight quirk of the mouth when he mentioned ale. If the Geletian expected his British counterpart to drink himself under the table, he would be rather disappointed. As a Quinntonian by birth, Spader had a bit of experience with being the lightweight in the room and had no desire to re-visit some of his more gastrointestinally alarming college experiences, and so would be keeping a distance from the ale.

"There are some old travel restrictions on our books that we'd like to remove, assuming that you don't have a problem with British tourists." This was, of course, code for "if you'll do the same", an allusion to the BDR's occasional rhetoric about economic patriotism. "I can also assure you, Britain isn't looking for more immigrants. We already get a steady inflow of people who aren't too chuffed with this Roman Empire business, most of them coming across the Channel. I expect you get much of the same, given your proximity to Greece. While Wales may be a lovely place, I can't imagine that many Geletians will want to move there given the wait times for British citizenship and their standard of living here." This might not be strictly true, since the British Isles did have a higher GDPPC than the BDR, but even given that, Britain was not really a haven for socialists.

Spader relaxed a bit, pleased enough that he'd been able to engage Chivo at all. The mistrust of two decades was hard to overcome, but with Rome and Kiev knocking at the door there was all the more reason to build bridges. "Britain has pretty high environmental standards for its aircraft, although I admit that I'm not really familiar with your government's view of jet emissions. That, though, can all be handled later.

"There's nothing to prevent your board of tourism from taking out adverts in British publications, of course, but in terms of reciprocal tourism I really can't say. I think it would be very much in our mutual interest, but unfortunately I can't do much besides suggest that we repeal some old laws that haven't been enforced since Chaffin's government."

This was an unexpected problem. Chivo's offers and suggestions, while quite appealing in an objective sense, were predicated on the idea that government could actually negotiate deals about steel, tourism or information technology. This was true in the BDR, of course, but Britain's economy was run in a fundamentally different way. Spader suppressed a flicker of annoyance. Chivo was a smart man, and surely he understood that the Liberal government had neither the power nor the willingness to negotiate deals that were within the realm of the private sector. Just what was the Bedgellan trying to do here? Emphasize the fact that he had more power over the national economy than the Home Secretary did in Britain? That wasn't much of a diplomatic ploy, and Chivo's history suggested that he was rather more acute a negotiator than that...

Strainist fists continue to drum the table in support of the speakers who follow Igo... Chivo's appearance is welcomed, a far more reasonable voice amongst the Geletians than that of an impractical anarcho-theorist. News of new developments in deriving fuels from coal cause several delegates to lean forward attentively... though sitting on significant reserves of coal, the Party bureaucracy faced significant public opposition to its continued use, and a chance to reduce dependency on foreign petrol while 'cleaning up' the dirty resource would be welcomed. Spader's response to Igo provides a not-so-overt sense of relief to those amongst the Strainists holding out hope of actual environmental reforms, well aware that firm opposition from either London or Washington would sink any such efforts in the name of preserving the Party's popular front policies, while Hu's statement on Dominion environmental efforts is equally welcomed... well aware of the Sino Republic Party's stance on such matters, there had been worry that Strainist vitriol towards the Kievans might be undercut if the Chinese appeared to be following Kiev's lead when it came to environmental policy.

As smaller discussions break out, and the Strainists mingle here and there with the delegates on ‘their side’, a clearer picture of the Party’s environmental position becomes evident: fossil fuels such as coal and petroleum must be cleaned and rendered more efficient in the short term, continuing to play a role in the military and transportation sectors over the longer-term while nuclear and hydroelectric power replaces them in most roles. Increasing miniaturization of nuclear reactors will allow them to be deployed locally for individual urban buildings or rural communities, integrated into national and perhaps international grids for buying and selling excess electricity. The British in particular will be approached about legal restrictions around increased Spyran investment in Australian uranium mining, already the source of much nuclear fuel for the People’s Republic.

The Strainists also seem supportive of some sort of ‘cap and trade’ system for carbon emissions, where states that produce excessive pollution are penalized and those who make strides in reduction are rewarded by being able to sell their excess allotment. Any serious discussion of such a system will, however, reveal that the Strainists have a mandate to support only the concept of such a system, and are very much short on details.

Though not in such obvious uniform as the Geletian security detail, the Strainist delegation includes an agent from the Party’s Public Safety committee, likely recognized as such by his constant shepherding of the younger Spyran delegates to keep them away from the Kievens, Graeme Igo, and Geletian alcohol… given the oft-heated nature of ideological debate in Spyr, any mixture with those three has a good chance of resulting in someone throwing punches, an outcome best avoided in front of the British or Americans.

Chivo was having some difficulty appreciating the weakness of Whitehall. He appreciated that there was a separation of state and capital, all be it through the eyes of someone who grew up under a largely feudal rather than market-capitalist system and then became a man during what many now regard as a state-capitalist period, but was yet to really accept the helplessness that Spader seemed to be attributing to his government in the economic sphere. Surely the capitalists in the Empire -whom he could not believe were really apart from the governments whose election campaigns they bankrolled- had made known their desire to break into Beddgelert's high income economy with its forty-million workers and consumers, and surely both they and the government understood that they would never be allowed to do so on their own initiative. If the British government didn't get involved as a middle man of some significance, there probably wouldn't be much of any new trade between the BDR and Britain or its companies.

(OOC: Ah, damn it, I don't know why I started writing this post when I'm eight minutes past the time I meant to leave the house. I'll get back to you!)

OOC: No worries, I'm doing the same thing now. I have an hour between Philosophy and Ancient History at college, and I use it for AMW.

Um, on to this whole RP thing. I've got a question. Is the major problem for Chivo and the BDR the fact that these are private companies, and some Bedgellan law prevents BDR citizens from negotiating with them? If so, this post should be a solution. If not, then not only Spader but the player behind him is having difficulty grasping the issue at hand. I suppose an OOC explanation of what Chivo's difficulty here is would be helpful, since otherwise there really is no reason that individual Bedgellans or, more likely, groups of them who form a voluntary communal investment group or whatever couldn't easily engage the market economy of Britain. Really, there isn't anything preventing it, and everything is for sale at market price.

So to make a long OOC statement short: if the laws of the BDR say that Bedgellans can only trade with socialist or government run companies, this is a solution. If not, then I don't understand, will need you to explain OOCly, and you should disregard this post.

Whew!

IC:

Spader chewed the inside of his lip, his habit when he was occupied in thought. The skin there was ragged–he thought a fair bit, although not always seriously–and he bit meditatively. He continued to nibble, desisted, and placed his forearms before him on the table. Adopting a pose of personable conversation, he engaged Chivo once more.

"Hm, I suppose we'll have to compromise to make trade between our economic systems work," he said genially. "Let me make a proposal to you. Your government, if I understand things correctly, would much prefer to deal with a publicly held company. That is completely antithetical to the Liberal way of doing things." Spader smiled to take any apparent accusation out of his words. "But try this on, and tell me if you think it'll work. We would create one or more government backed companies that would sell only part of their equity on the FTSE, and so would theoretically be held by the government but would still fall largely under the laws of supply and demand. Private companies in the UK could hire these companies to act as middlemen between your economy and ours, allowing your investors or industries to negotiate with a public entity that would be backed by the private and public sectors alike."

He paused and leaned back, suddenly uncomfortable. "Now, I can't promise anything–I've been given broad powers, but not this broad, and we're in very shaky territory for a liberal government. I'll have to run this by our Chancellor of the Exchequer, PM Strathairn, and the entire Parliament. I can't make you any guarantees, but this does look like the best way to have our economies talk to each other."

As the meeting trundles on... it is now late in the night, and past the bedtime of most societies that aren't 24/7 Beddgelert (there isn't even any such thing as a week in Beddgelert, let alone a day)... Srainists who can stand the strain actually find that Igovians are agreeing with them on an awful lot.

Fossil fuels should be cleaned up for now, because the army and the state infrastructure need them, but in the long term, we also need to develop our nuclear power and dam the hell out of the Danube!

Plenty of hard-core anti-Prog Igovians feel that way.

Back on the diplomatic dance floor, Chivo, who had been looking, sternly, into the middle distance, leaving it less than clear whether he was listening or watching a girl in the periphery of the roundhouse, suddenly turned back to Spader and appeared to give him absolute attention.

"Ah! Yes, well, in Beddgelert, prices are set for most goods, you see, by the central authorities. What you propose makes sense. If these partly state-owned companies that you suggest can manage to trade in Beddgelert despite our state-controlled pricing, then we could trade infinitely."

In Beddgelert, since the Geletian Spring of 1989, Akink had decided the retail prices for everything. In Dra-pol, for example -the old Communist style- the state set targets, but in Beddgelert the state set prices, and let the producers and consumers work it out, in a sort of controlled market environment. So, if British firms could be efficient enough to make a profit while selling at prices set by Akink, they could trade freely in Beddgelert. Simple as that!

If they were so efficient that they thrashed Beddgelen firms, perhaps prices would be changed by the state to give local producers a chance, but for now, that was the deal. Meanwhile, even the USQ was barred from trading in Beddgelert, making it clear that the British had some special place in Geletian life.

Spader was impressed. He hadn't expected to break the Bedgellan Wall, the colloquial term for the stringent regulations on trade within the BDR, quite so easily. Obviously nothing had been finalized, so there was no trade, and no real breach in the wall. On the other hand, Chivo hadn't stood there and flatly refused to co-operate, and the seeds of trade had been planted.

Spader's diplomatic smile betrayed a bit more genuine feeling now, the liberal in him convinced that freer trade would bring new ideas to both British and Bedgellan economies. In an ideal situation, this would be the first step in bringing the BDR into the international marketplace, but even if not it would provide massive new markets for British industrial goods.

"Well Comrade Chivo, I'm glad that we've had this discussion. Like I said, I'll have to propose this to Parliament, and I'm not sure what will happen there, but it's better than nothing." He took a sip of water from an abandoned glass that looked untouched, nothing the breakup of the diplomatic meeting. That pretty Geletian aide had to be around here somewhere, so after the meeting was over he might be able to prevail upon her for some coffee and conversation. Hmm...

"I'll warn you though, I anticipate problems with the idea of state-set prices. If you'll be willing to negotiate the prices with our hypothetical public companies, I think things will go down more easily in Parliament. There could be the perception that Akink would set prices for British goods artificially high, you understand, but if we are given some kind of say in the matter, I think things would go much more smoothly." He smiled and held up his hand, forestalling Chivo's expected rebuke.

"I'm just saying what our Liberals will probably object to. Personally, I'd like to thank you for spending your time with me. I'm very much looking forward to working with your government on this, and in my office's eyes, the more we can engage the free parts of Europe, the better." He let his hand drop partway, inviting a handshake. His staffers, who had gradually drifted off into the crowd, engaged Geletian opposite-numbers, or simply hobnobbed with colleagues, started to coalesce into a group once again. It was late, and even Spader felt sleepy. Now, where was that charming lady from the drive over...?

If Graeme had heard the exchange between Chivo and Spader it would have been a real test of low-key speculation about the ageing pioneer's failing energy. Damn Chivo, he was efficient in removing old guard party corpses and rapidly completing the nationalisation of capital, unlike the overly-timid Progs, but clearly his interest in genuine Igovian economics had very real limits.

Igo was only glad that the British would surely not have empowered their delegate at a conference on energy and climate change to negotiate broad trade agreements on the spot, or he'd have to challenge Chivo from the back-foot.

No doubt Chivo told Spader before they parted that there wasn't much hope for allowing British firms to dictate prices in Beddgelert -it would be like the League of Beddgelen Communists having a direct say in the level of, say, VAT in Britain-, but he hadn't really gone into detail on the fundamental importance to the Igovian economy of the standardisation of capital and the fact of its centralisation in the Beddgelen state. So far as Igo could tell, for this to work at all, British firms would have to essentially hire Beddgelen capital at a rate equivalent to the FVT -Fixed Value Tax- paid by all Soviet enterprises in the BDR, and if they wanted to update it they would have to negoitate deals that would see their Beddgelert-based rivals acquire the same capital upgrades, or at least have the opportunity to acquire them at a new level of FVT.

If Chivo went ahead without addressing these fundamentals, the Beddgelen economy as it had existed since the end of the 1980s would be thrown into unimaginable turmoil probably equivalent to the over-night nationalisation by London of every single enterprise in the Empire. Graeme would like to find out what Chivo was up to, but of the two men, when it came to political espionage, only one spent six years establishing himself and his friends in a then-formative GSIC, and it wasn't Graeme.

In the gathering generally, a projected image against the wall read messages of hope and welcome in the major languages of all represented delegations and clarified the thus-far hazey itinerary. Sort of. Delegations would be offered communal accommodation at the next roundhouse and private rooms in Portmeirion hotels, and, tomorrow, a more orderly -or less alcoholic- gathering would convene to discuss ideas for concrete agreements, from cargon trading to emissions caps and technology sharing et cetera.

He hadn't expected to break the Bedgellan Wall, the colloquial term for the stringent regulations on trade within the BDR, quite so easily

(OOC: Minor note, here: nobody else has to use it, of course, but there is a more likely term to cover this concept, based in a (now) concrete reality. Namely the term, Wicker Wall, which will be explained in the Geletian Spring thread (for which I shall write the next bit today, though I don't know when it'll actually get posted, as I'm about to be kicked off the 'net). 's got eighty thousand guards on it, so has probably entered the popular conscience by now ;) )