The Diplomat

Recently I installed Ubuntu linux on my laptop, and it took two tries to get it to dual boot with Windows (my fault though, I didn't read the on screen instructions). This blog idea was originally based on that idea of two competing systems trying to have access to the same resources. Dumb I know, but since it was about time that I posted, my sense of duty overcame my often contradictory but seldom complementary sense of the cool. It was real boring at first, until, I changed what happened at the end - this made it like some of the stories by Philip K. Dick - who wrote 'Minority Report'.

I guess I'm just tired by all this good guy protagonists in my other blog posts and decided that my character could have some malevolant intent.

The Diplomat

With an air of deep seated but obscured suspicion, the sole New Zealand Delegate eyed his counterparts across the over-engineered but stylishly subdued negotiations table 'probably made from extinct exotic hardwood' he thought as he leaned back in his chair glancing with annoyance at the pen clicker – a lower level diplomat in a sombre gray suit, obviously bored by the proceedings who was clicking his pen in and out, in and out 'a little too bored' thought John.

'... relation to the trade embargoes which forthwith must be given our cautious approval.....'

Droned the drone on the other side of the table. John could see that his counterpart was nearing the end of his monologue, he sighed, made a show of pretending to hide a yawn, and rubbed his eyes, much to the consternation of the Beijing representative, who had just reiterated his nations sovereign right to 'blah blah blah....' John grinned inwardly as he glanced at the pen clicker, who obviously had a low immunity to yawns, and had caught the bug.

'...so in closing, we as a nation cannot in good conscience sanction this course of action in the light of the ....'

He had prepared this part of his speech at least. He knew the Chinese foreign policy, and that it would not allow this so called intrusion on their sovereignty and so he had prepared these closing remarks for his speech to the assembled delegates. He knew there wasn't much hope of them changing their mind, but this was the protocol. But there was an eerie sense of foreboding in the air. something that wasn't right, and it wasn't the feng shui of the room. Something was out of place, he knew it, but he didn't know what.

'...unprecedented and frankly unwarranted economic hegemony which...'

He carried on his speech, noting the various faces in the crowd.

'...has been crippling the regional economy. I thank my fellow delegates, and hope that the situation will soon be resolved.'

He smiled, sat down and glanced through the glass panel in the heavy soundproof door, leading to the reception area where afternoon tea was being prepared'...what the heck...?' he mumbled in a monotone, barely audible even in the subdued hum of the post trade talk environment. He was looking at the pen clicker in the hallway adjacent to the negotiations room – the bored diplomat touched the inside of it's earlobe and retracted the antenna which was protruding from where its upper vertebrae were supposed to be. 'Thank goodness that's at least semi-reflective glass' he thought slowly opening his mobile phone and using the camera to take a picture of the robot which was standing in the hallway near the main exit. 'they've really done it this time' he thought as he mailed the picture to one of his many anonymous email address as insurance against an unforeseen future. The now much better disguised robot entered the room, 'that is one serious piece of technology' John thought, remembering the well copied yawn. 'I've got to get me one of those'. He watched, as if in slow motion, as the alien technology began to make it's way methodically round the room, shaking hands with all the other delegates who were oblivious of the real nature of the too friendly consul. Grasping each hand that was offered it, the robot grinned, as it exchanged business cards with the other people. 'they might have some sort of tracking device, or a virus of some sort?...' John worriedly thought, unable, or rather unwilling to move, paralyzed by an inertia born not of terror of the the mechanical menace, but of an apathy honed by many boring afternoons restating the same old problems to the same old people for the same old reasons. 'Maybe this will make things more interesting' he thought, as he watched from the comfort of his gray suede chair. He cracked open his laptop, and began, to check the live feed from the robot's five senses that were being relayed to the satellite, and to email the programmer asking about why his most helpful spy decided to sync with the satellite in the hallway. 'must be the SQL inflection bug again' he thought, 'thankfully no one saw, or we'd be at square one again' He realized for the first time that he, or rather, his country now had the technology, and the information to make a real impact in the region.