First Pan-Forestian Diplomatic Showcase (IC, Forest Only)

[Caracasus]

First Pan-Forestian Diplomatic Showcase

Okay. So OOC link is here: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=417563
1) This is diplomatic only. There may be the occasional assassination, but that would have to be arranged and cleared on OOC first.
2) Co-operative means co-operative. Work out things in OOC if there are problems.
3) This is diplomacy in its truest sense. Backbiting, shady deals, bribes and wild accusations are to be expected.
4) Link to general rules/guidelines here: https://www.nationstates.net/page=dispatch/id=728416

Meeting room complex -Villi Island – Caracasus

The first Pan-Forestian Diplomatic Showcase was to be held in Caracasus. There were rumours that the Caracasusians were simply the last to attend the gruelling series of meetings to decide its final location, or that other nations in Forest had simply decided to stick it to the nation following disagreements in other areas. Whatever the truth behind the matter, the Caracasusian diplomatic office – commonly referred to as International Affairs and Diplomacy printed a statement claiming that it would “delighted to host an event that brings together the many disparate nations of Forest in the spirit of co-operation and harmony.”

Caracasusians were fairly quick to point out that while such an event would indeed be a delight, the actual timetabled event was more likely to descend into bickering, petty name calling and tantrums that would make a junior school class look frankly dignified in contrast.

Nevertheless, a location had been found. The island of Villi in the Caracasusian Strait had been cleared for the event. Its resident six communes had voted in favour of hosting the event and construction had finished on temporary accommodation for the guests as well as increased security for the duration of the meetings.

Small, purpose built units would house delegates, and a series of large meeting rooms had been constructed. All that remained was for the delegates to arrive.

Caracasusian Broadcasting Co-operative

“So we're here today with some interesting news for you all. It appears that the Caracasusian Diplomatic Showcase will be going ahead after all. It took some fairly significant diplomatic wrangling and more than a few stomach ulcers but a timetable of events has been finalised.”

“Indeed. And we're very lucky to have with us tonight two very special guests. We have Mr Patel, one of International Affairs' leading diplomatic heavyweights and Ms Solokov, satirist for the Laughing Elephant magazine. So, first things first – Mr Patel. What are your thoughts on the released itinerary?”

“Well it is interesting to note that cross-regional economic development has its own platform here. I think that after the Kolaxia Sea disaster building economically viable industry within Forest's nations has once again come to the fore. Sustainability of course crossing barriers of nation and economic model after all...”

“And it's a damn fine excuse to find a scapegoat for all those oil slicks isn't it?”

“I wouldn't put it quite like that myself, it's more about aiding those nations whose economies rely more on...”

“Okay, if I can just cut you off a second. There seems to be the inclusion of a defense panel. What can we make of that? Is it likely that there may be a push for a Pan-Forestian Army as some nations have suggested?”

Pan-Forestian Diplomatic Showcase

---

Events listing

1. Economic development panel
2. Ecological sustainability and ecosystem management panel
3. Pan-Forestian sporting panel
4. Multilateral defence policy panel
5. Territorial waters and maritime shipping protection panel
6. Science and technology panel
7. Forestian Medical panel
8. Diplomatic relations panel
9. Trade and industrial development panel
10. Agricultural development and sustainable food production

[Zwangzug]

"Do we have any idea if this place is near that mountain?" Gabe Atchery, Secretary of Foreign Affairs, asked, as the Zwangzug delegation drew nearer. "Because technically that's our territory, we could go visit--"

"Oh, get off your high mountain already," said Professor Kenshin Borden from 102d Polyteknik. "No one cares, and besides, why would you expect any of us to know? Isn't that your job?"

"I'm just saying," Atchery meekly replied.

"I'm assuming our hosts will have booked us, and everybody else, a full schedule of places to visit already and aren't taking suggestions," pointed out Mila Apsar.

"You don't know anything about these people," said Janice McFly, the representative from Dauclem. "It's going to be hurry up and wait, a bunch of standing on ceremony one moment and a bunch of uncomfortably communistic posturing the next. By the time we get done oohing and ahhing over the logo you'll want to sneak out to find appropriately rustic, um, facilities, trust me."

"Aren't you being a bit judgmental?" Borden asked. "Have you ever been here before?"

"Of course not," she said. "But Gabe here has probably tried to leave the country on some cockamamie diplomatic effort that fell flat."

"Are you really one to talk about...pardon my Quebecois, cockamamie missions, Janice?" Atchery snapped.

"Tolbert didn't do us in, which I'm willing to call a moral victory," McFly said, referring to one of their colleagues who was in the recently outgoing Composite Minister's somewhat authoritarian and not-very-open-with-the-public faction.

"Come on," said Borden. "When someone asks, you know, diplomatic details like 'when was your last election and what was the margin of victory,' how are we gonna respond?"

"We just wave our hands and mutter something about time dilation and that we'll get to it later," said Atchery.

"That will convince no one."

"That convinces everyone!" Apsar protested.

"I think you have a biased sample size."

"What if they try to start a space race?" Borden panicked.

"Then we'll go tell our comrades back home to get to work, won't we?" Atchery shrugged. "I mean, come on, sending rockets to Mars is kind of a believable and plausible thing. More so than, like, talking to zebras."

"You are being incredibly bipedalist. I dunno if I want you representing us on the world scene."

"Well, good thing you came after all, isn't it? Have another election and you can vote for someone else from your own district."

"One thing at a time," said Apsar.

"I thought that was like the opposite of what you believe," Borden muttered.

"What if," McFly panicked, "we get there and it's all a bunch of pretentious left-wingers who patronize us and put words in our mouth and assume that just because we share certain environmental values we also ought to share their entire platform and if we don't, we're irredeemably shallow?"

"C'mon," said Atchery, "that'd never happen."

"Never?" McFly challenged.

"Erm. Probably never?"

"See," said Apsar, "that's when you want to secretly start work on your Mars rocket, right, so you can then escape to another planet and leave 'em all behind."

"Now you're talking sense," said Borden.

[Caracasus]

Villi Island

The fields surrounding the complex were a hive of activity. Temporary stages were being erected, the clang of scaffolding and the occasional bellowed instruction. The smell of food, hot oil and seared chillies filled the air, drifting across the slightly indented valley that held the centre.

In the middle, the meeting complex. Surrounding it at various points small chalet like building complexes – mostly temporary. Already the Caracasusians had begun the process of decorating the side of the buildings with complex murals in chalk. Thematically they had linked them somewhat to the nations that would be using them.

Far in the distance, shimmering somewhat on the horizon lay a couple of Caracasusian warships. The admiralty had apparently planned a demonstration of some new technology. Rumour was that it utilized super-heated gas. News outlets had been quick to point out that the armed forces of Caracasus were never short of hot air.

The opening “ceremony” - if it could be described as such was a traditional Caracasusian ceremony. Several bands straddling several genres had turned up, more than space had been allocated for and already debate had broken out as to who would play first. Temporary theaters and holocinemas had popped up and actors strode between metal struts practising lines.

Nineday House, Caracasus's armed forces department had petitioned, and as usual been denied, permission to have a military parade replete with tanks and missiles. Suitably put out they had requisitioned an area where visiting dignitaries could “have a go” at using Caracasusian weapons. It was fortunate in many regards that few Caracasusian weapons still used explosive based propellant. In place of the rapid fire of machine guns was a faint hissing thrum of flechette rifles and pistols. After the last large gathering of its kind, the soldiers had been instructed to refuse anyone who appeared under the influence.

Delegatations and meetings were scheduled for approximately four hours of every day, in the firm belief that any longer would simply lead to foreign dignitaries pretending to be alert as they quietly dozed or doodled on their handouts. Kavverit had been commissioned to ferry them to and fro and IntTrans were doing their best to prepare a list of cultural or scenic hot spots that the dignitaries would appreciate.

McFly was spot on when he mentioned the toilets. Wooden framed buildings collected the waste to be recycled across the ocean as fertilizer. The engineers had done their best with the smell, and ensured that a ready supply of sawdust was at hand but it was telling that earlier arrivals had been very quick to ensure that they booked quarters very far away from the facilities that were to be used during the day.

“So? Who has arrived so far?”

“Zugzwang's delegation turned up earlier... they're over there.” The man with the clipboard pointed to a set of chalets that had been decorated in sweeping geometric monochrome. “They're down for several of the panels... though the most booked one seems to be regarding....”

“Okay... and the other business?”

Several members of the small collective grimaced. “Other business” meant ensuring there was not a repeat of the recent trade summit.

“We've uh – we've removed access to chemical substances including alcohol and tobacco on our guests' comms devices. They can override it, but they'd need clearance from whatever official is in charge of their delegation.”

“Good. We don't want what happened to the Parsoh finance minister to happen again do we?”

A young woman piped up. “Is it right though? I mean, aren't we kind of supporting a hierarchy in a way? They have to go to their bosses if they want to take something, but their bosses can do what they like... I don't know... seems a bit... wrong to me.”

The woman sighed. “Leyti, we've all been over this. There are occasions where we must make some sacrifices. I'm sorry but you weren't there last time. Imagine! The Parsohian Finance Minister heads off to Caracasus to negotiate a series of maritime routes. Pops out of an evening and finds himself in a commune. He goes back home, gives a rambling lecture in front of the entire senate about how material possessions aren't everything and how people need to realise how interconnected we all are and tries to get the senate to form a song-circle! Tourists are one thing but.... We don't need the headlines.”

“They went with Anarchist Junkies Brainwash Minister, didn't they?”

More members of the collective busied themselves with paperwork. Leyti spoke up. “Anyone know what happened to him?”

“He got the sack. Last I heard he got himself a visa. He's living in Quoris province now, in a commune that makes goat cheese.”

“All's well that ends well I guess...”

“Anyway, yes – Leyti, you've got the Zangzwug lot. Want to go over and introduce yourself?”

[Keilersmoor]

Recipient The United Socialist States of Caracasus REPUBLIC OF KEILERSMOOR Topic: First Pan-Forestian Diplomatic Showcase We are delighted to be invited to the First Pan-Forestian Diplomatic Showcase. With great interested we have noticed that Multilateral Defense Policy and Diplomatic Relations made it to the agenda. However, we feel that the fight against terrorism and international organized crime is too important to be summarized under either of these topics. We politely request that the International Law Enforcement Panel is added to the agenda. The Parliamentarians from Keilersmoor will be led by Dr Johann Blaumann and myself. The delegation will be accompanied by sixteen armed members of the Abteilung III. As usual we will set up our own press and communication center on the summit grounds. I will attend the PFDS for the opening ceremony. I will than have to return to Keilersmoor immediately. Dr Blaumann will be left in charge of the delegation for the reminder of the conference. Details of the Abt. III security protocols, armed personnel backgrounds, equipment lists, et cetera are enclosed in the attachments of this letter. I am hoping that the Diplomatic Showcase will be a success and that our nations will strengthen the progress and prosperity in our region. Sincerely Rutger Thorbecke Foreign Minister

Paper. It has to be paper. And not your electronic smart paper. White, sheets made of wood. Paper or it did not happen! Do you remember your first visit to Keilersmoor? What was the first thing you heard at the air port?

"How was your flight?"

"Welcome to Keilersmoor?"

"Is this your first visit?"

If you had been expecting any of the above you must either be very naïve or very young or both. "PAPERS!" occasionally followed by a somewhat softer "…please" is the first thing you will hear in Keilersmoor's native tongue. Paper it the lifeblood of the organism that has Keilersmoor in its grip, paper is the lifeblood of bureaucracy. Without papers you are nothing and long after your death your papers will continue their own lifeless existence, shuffled around by bureaucrats for eternity.

It took ages to arrange the rights and duties of the security personnel. Oberst Gelder, the colonel leading the men of the Abt. III was not different from other men in his position. The man in his early fifties was tall, muscular with a firm hand shake. A soldier through and through and a seasoned veteran. His dark blue uniform was covered with medals and ribbons (he was the only one dressed in military garments) originating from Keilersmoor and elsewhere. The colonel was never afraid of doing what was necessary in the line of duty. A few years back he used his own body as a shield when he jumped between the consul and his attacker at an international meeting on off shore oil drilling. Even today he could occasionally recall the smell of the cake that hit his chest. It was a smell of cinnamon and apples, spices and something bitter he could not categorize. It was probably the best smelling cake he had ever encountered. Still, he was not tempted to taste it. He was a professional soldier and with the precision of a machine he wrestled the student to the ground (before he could even think of yelling "Ban fossil fuels!").

Make no mistake. Bringing armed guards and lamenting about unspecified terrorist threats for hours is not as much a sign of paranoia and incompetence as it is a matter of national pride. The last attempt to kill a Parliamentarian from Keilersmoor dated back to the Rising, the national war of independence. Needless to say that it actually was successful. Terrorist attacks were also a thing of the past. Still, Keilersmoor insisted on bringing these men to the meeting and it would have caused a minor diplomatic incident to simply tell them: "Defend your diplomats in a reasonable way and don't overdo it, all right?"

Everything, from the number of rounds each member of the Abt. III was allowed to carry to the minimum and maximum distance that allowed the use of the firearm against a would be assassin (which both sides knew was more unlikely than the visit of an extra-terrestrial life form) had to be carefully negotiated, put in writing and made official by putting stamps and signatures on the papers.

Keilersmoor is small. Economically and militarily irrelevant, it is so small actually that most people think it is still part of the neighboring kingdom. It had its wars, it had its crisis and internal turmoil (it even was important and a global superpower in the age of sail and slave trade) but these days were all long gone.

---

Doctor Johann Blaumann was a relatively young man for his position. Secretary of State for External Affairs. For his entire political career he had been a member of the Liberal Democratic Party. He had served with the legal branch of the military during is compulsory service and graduated as a lawyer before he engaged in politics. He had worked his way up through all the dangers and battlefields of politics. It was his political allegiance that prevented him from climbing the ladder any further. Coming from the party's far left, his political beliefs were closer to the Vanguard Party than to his own.

"Last minute change of the team" he yelled over the engines of the Kavverit, waving at the host delegation. Flanked by a grim looking phalanx of elite soldiers dressed in black suits he marched towards the Caracasians. "Thorbecke could not make it. Politics." He made a gesture towards one of the soldiers who handed him a heavy wooden case.

If there is something hold in higher regard than rules and regulations in Keilersmoor it is guns. Guns and the right to bear arms and the right to hoard guns at home and prepare against an invasion or defend your family. Statistically more people die from gun accidents in Keilersmoor than from fire arm related crimes. It is about ten times more likely that you get shot with your own gun (or with that of someone you know and trust) than with an illegally held firearm used by a criminal. Once decades ahead of the rest of the region (short selling was first done at the Steinhafen stock exchange) Keilersmoor had fallen further and further back over the last few centuries. The only exception to that rule was the arms industry. Even today small arms form Keilersmoor meet all expectations.

"This" began Blaumann. "is the famous Schaller Null-Sechs, of the Langenbrück Waffenfabrik, commonly known as the LW-06 or simply as the Schaller." With a gesture worthy of the moment he opened the case and presented the gun to the hosts. A short summary of the technical specifications of the gun followed before Blaumann concluded. "It is the actual gun that was used by Galvaro Lucciani to assassinate Major Tachito in Weißkopf Park." He paused for a moment.

Originally Caracasus had asked them to return Lucciani's bones. The enthusiastic revolutionary had travelled far to prevent General Melisiomo's representative in Keilersmore from buying more weapons and securing more loans. A mere footnote in the history of this enormous nation. Lucciani was captured, put on trial and executed and buried in an unmarked grave. It was only in the recent edition of local school books that he was reclassified from terrorist to insurgent.

"This gun is part of your national heritage and I am proud to return it to its rightful owner, the people of Caracasus."

[Caracasus]

Kielersmoor Delegation

“Thank you”

The slight wind of the Kaveritt's engines hit the breeze coming from the sea and formed eddies and dust devils that spun about the fresh cut grass. The uniforms of the black-clad soldiers and Blaumann's suit fluttered briefly and were still.

Kiri Thansson picked up the antique handgun, turned it this way and that in the sun. You could still make out the burrs in the metal where the slightly elongated hammer mechanism had been filed short – ensuring it did not snag or catch on the lining of the pocket when drawn. An assassin's weapon.

“So many stories in this gun, aren't there?” She mused, apparently speaking to herself. “Lucciani shot a man in a park all those years ago and we are still talking about it today. It would still fire, you say?”

Blaumann grinned, slightly. “As much as I'd love to extol Keilersmoorian craftsmanship, I feel that a century or so might be pushing the manufacturer's guarantee somewhat”

Polite laughter from the assembled press. Thansson nodded, placed the gun back in its case.

“You know, there are those that believe Lucciani's actions were pivotal in stopping the old regime from being able to arm itself more effectively. Of course there are others who claim that Major Tachito's assassination had no effect whatsoever. That Keilersmoorian manufacturers had seen the writing on the wall and had already closed off lines of credit to Melissimo's regime. Still others, I understand, believe that had General Alfssun not been taken ill that day, Lucciani would have shot him instead. Potentially dragging Keilersmoor into a war. I'd be very interested to hear where you stand Blaumann... though perhaps some other time.”

Blaumann coughed, nodded. “Indeed. I think we can certainly agree that it is better by far when nations exchange words and goods rather than bullets and bombs. If I may ask, what is likely to happen to the artefact?”

“I imagine Nineday House will place it in a museum. Lucciani was associated on some level with Strange Tendency, so they may challenge that... Now, I believe we have something for you.”

She called up an image on the holodisplay. Doctor Blaumann had been briefed beforehand, but was able to call up an expression of polite surprise.

“So this is the wreck we've been hearing so much about is it? Well I'll be... The MorgenLicht!”


MorgenLicht On Approach to Quoris - Arsbern Hobbler (Stienhafen Gallery)

The MorgenLicht had been a clipper on license to the Steinhafen Trading Company buying and selling all manner of goods across nearly every known port in the world. Two hundred and seventy years ago it was headed for Quoris City laden with silks and had been sunk in a freak storm. One of the most well-documented shipwrecks of the era, its location on the seabed made excavations and dives problematic.

“The one and the same. We've been discussing a joint dive with Langenbruck University for some time now, but that is not all.”

The holodisplay changed – called up false-clour enhanced images of the interior of the vessel.

“We do not know how, but it appears that the ship was carrying several chests of tea – though these never appeared on the manifest. A clerical error, no doubt. Regardless, the tannin in the chests and the relatively well-sealed hold partition leaves us with something rather special.”

The image changed once more. Called up what looked like patterns on a silk sheet.



“The tannin preserved the silk you see. In some areas you can even make out the patterns.”

The doctor looked at the holodisplay, smiled. “This is truly a piece of history! You will have to forgive my lack of knowledge as to the processes of recovering shipwrecks but what time frame are we talking about in terms of recovering this vessel?”

Thannson thought a little. “From what our scientists and yours are saying, it looks like some sort of arrangement to begin excavations is already on the table. From that... well, I believe optimistic projections put it at about a one year long project? As I understand it, they're considering floating the ship back to its home port in Steinhafen.”

---

Zangzwug Delegation

The Zangzwug delegation were grouped towards one of the cluster of food outlets when Leyti found them.

“So I was wondering...”

Leyti watched as the delegate she'd been introduced to as Gabe Atchery was cut off by a stern glance from professor Borden. Mcfly took the opportunity to reach forward, shaking the Caracasusian's hand vigorously.

“Delighted to meet you! Now, when does the opening ceremony start?”

Leyti shrugged. “It was supposed to start an hour or so ago. It's not a ceremony as such, but we've got some music, a couple of communes are showing some rather interesting plays you might wish to see... but that won't be until the evening.”

“No parades then? No speeches? No tanks?” Borden questioned. Leyti caught something in his tone. Disappointment? Surprise?

“Well, if you like that sort of thing, Strange Tendency and the Popular Jevellit Reform Committee have a workshop on postmodernist praxis following the dissolution of centralised power in modern states... there's a speaker from Uan Aa Boa there I think who is supposed to be giving a lecture on e-collectivisation and internationalism... and I think that Nineday House are planning to blow something up at some point. I'm sure they'll give us a good warning first.” Leyti crossed her fingers behind her back.

Borden nodded. “Uh, thank you. If I get time....”

“Now I've got a couple of issues your government raised to be addressed here. We've got... let's see... recognition of sapience and Zebras (i) and recognition of sovereignty and Zebra islands, that will appear on your timetable as ROSAZi and ROSAZI . Now the first one will be at 1pm in room 1B.... though unfortunately it looks like there might be a timetable clash. We're holding the second at 1pm in room I8... don't worry, both meeting rooms are well labelled.”

“Huh?” Mila Aspar looked up. “Is this about the Zebras?” Before Leyti could reply, Atchery spoke up.

“Listen, I was wondering, would it be possible to visit the mountain?”

“Um, yes – I don't see why not. Just let IntTrans know when you want to go and we'll arrange something. Now, I understand that it is customary to present gifts at such occasions.”

“I didn't get the bit about the zeb...” Aspar was cut off by the others.

Leyti opened up the case to reveal a selection of artefacts. A worn and chipped baseball bat, a small card depicting a smiling man holding a bat and a baseball, scuffed and marked.



“Baseball has never enjoyed the popularity it receives in Zwangzug here, unfortunately. However there are one or two Caracasusians who took to it. These are some of the effects left by Caracasus's most famous player. Inigo Jantoia. I believe he played for the Ferrum Ferrets. Something of a sad story really. He had no relatives to leave these effects to so they've been sitting in a distribution hub for the last decade. Still, please accept this part of baseball history in the spirit of co-operation between our peoples.”

Gifts exchanged, the small group followed Leyti to their compound. Caracasusians had, as usual, covered the exterior and interior walls in chalk decorations. In the spirit of international friendship they'd taken on various motifs and styles unique to Zangzwug.

Aspar opened the door to her quarters and sighed. Looked at the large mural stretching across the living area she would share with the others. A herd of stylized zebra stared back at her in black and white.

[Watersville]

The Watersvillian delegation was an unusual group to arrive at the Pan-Forestian Showcase because, well, it was not a member of Forest. This had not deterred His Royal Highness Joseph from sending a letter to their more recently acquired friends at Caracasus asking for permission to attend. He was, however shocked to find that they had been given permission, albeit that Watersville had no real power to affect things in Forest, but nevertheless they had been given seats at each of the events listed. Before too long, the Watersvillian delegation, chosen by both Joseph and the Parliament, was on their way to the event. Jospeh looked around and recognized each of the members on his team. Their was himself and his daughter, Crown Princess Hannah. He also noted the presence of President Ruby McClaw as well as Defense Minister Fredrick Bogard. He also noted the addition of Dr. Jeffery Willard from the University of Waters City's School of Medicine and Dr. Gloria Steinbeck of the University of Cardinal's School of Political Science. As the group entered the meeting complex, Joseph found that there were several national delegations that had already arrived and were already beginning to become acquainted with each other. Joseph took a deep breath and walked its his delegation toward the group of Caracasusian delegates that were there. The delegations quickly introduced themselves to each other before Joseph presented the Caracasusians with a gift. "We just wanted to show our appreciation for allowing us to join these talks and we hope that we will be able to make positive contributions to the meetings." With this, the King presented a used bomb casing.



"This is a piece from the Haugesund Aid Camp that was gassed, bombed, and destroyed during the Oehiton conflict. We would like to present this as well as several other pieces from the camp to you so we can both be reminded of how we first came to work together and the shared experiences that we have. It is also a reminder of how we must work together to ensure a better tomorrow."

[Zwangzug]

The Zwangzug delegation retreated back to their quarters, "avant-garde" decoration and all, and took a moment to relax.

"Were we supposed to bring something?" Janice finally offered.

"What?" Gabe asked.

"You know, like, gifts," she said, nodding over to where Mila was still poring over the baseball card. "Is that expected?"

"I dunno," Gabe admitted. "They never spelled it out or anything."

"Spelled it out my rear," Kenshin snapped. "You're the foreign affairs guy, you're supposed to know all this off the top of your head."

"Well hang on, now," Gabe said placatingly. "If it comes to all that, I'm sure we can...improvise."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean I'm sure we have some...artifacts of a historic nature...hanging around somewhere, right, Janice? Something that survived the resistance confrontation of whatever the heck it was? Or the Sarah Li County Secession Crisis? We hand that over and put a nice spin on it, we don't need to tell them it wasn't all that, uh, exciting."

"I think it's better not to fake it," said Mila, without looking up. "We're Zwangzugians, aren't we? They invited us over here to see what we really were, and what we are is straightforward people who don't read between the lines or do social performativity for the heck of it."

"Enough with the national generalizations, now," Kenshin warned.

"You know what I mean. If they want to make a production out of it they should have told us. Otherwise, they're going to get the unvarnished truth."

"Nothing says it has to be a physical gift, now, does it?" Janice mused. "Haven't you studied up north, Professor? I bet you could recount one of those South Picksalladed epics..."

"Oh, no," Kenshin said. "I'm more of a Cipid sign language fellow myself. It was my research into nonverbal syntax that set me up to--"

"Great," Mila interrupted, "you can give them a demonstration of how to count to 132."

The parliamentarians exchanged a bewildered glance.

"Anyway," said Gabe, "I'll play it by ear."

"You will that," said Janice. "Sounds like there might be some delegates showing up from beyond the region now. Who knows what we'll be dealing with?"

Kenshing glanced over the schedule. "I'm sure this'll get filled in eventually."

"Right," Gabe said, and they set out to brave the international community once more.

[Caracasus]

Caracasus International Affairs – Villi Island

The Watersvillian delegation arrived by ferry. The boat scudded along the coast a little before drawing up to the jetty. The jetty was somewhat crowded, though after some time luggage had been unloaded and the delegation had made its way to the central meeting area.

Jann held his breath as the ferry drew up. He wondered, briefly, if the Watersvillians had noticed the stealth submarine that had maintained a steady pace with the little ferry. Should any Watersvillians wish to take a trip by plane to a more remote region, they'd no doubt notice the two escort PD-42 interceptor jets.

It was a remote chance, but the Watersvillians might have noticed the Guerrillas on board the ferry. The Caracasusian special operations unit had posed as fellow travellers and delegates from a minor disputed territory that would take up quarters as close to the Watersvillians as possible. In the days that followed it was possible that they would notice the constant tail, or the faint trails of high-altitude surveillance drones circling them.

Food prepared for them would be run through a discrete battery of tests for harmful substances during their stay, and IntSec armed response officers combed high ground for snipers. The bees would probably not be noticed, Jann thought – though the King had some experience with Caracasusian explosives detection from his time in Oehiton. He quickly radioed in to the dedicated Watersvillian Protection Unit.

“Anything?”

“Nope. Nothing. Calm down will you? It's a diplomatic mission. We've done this before OK? We can keep a few delegates from harm.”

Jann sighed, chewing the inside of his lip slightly. Where the king of Watersville went, trouble had a knack of following in his wake. Assassination attempts, poisonings, bombs, snipers, planes the man travelled in shot down, hidden identities somehow leaked to various groups of armed psychopaths, kidnappers, radical separatist movements.... the list was endless. Still, he had volunteered, and been elected for the position. With a remarkable, unprecedented even, level of latitude as to what he could command that in his mind showed both the Council Elect and International Observation's concerns regarding the Watersvillian delegation. He had taken every precaution he could think of, stopping just short of requesting an orbital bombardment satellite on standby. It was up to fate now...

The Watersvillian Delegation

The ambassador took the shell casing. It weighed significantly more than he had thought. You could see the crude weld marks that betrayed the desperation of the Oehiton Armed Forces. No doubt assembled in a shed with tools better suited to fixing car engines. Loaded with explosives, shells like these had rained down on aid camps shortly after the Caracasusian ultimatum. Whatever the right or wrong of the situation, that ultimatum had resulted in the deaths of Watersvillian volunteer aid workers. It was a hard reminder of those shared experiences.

One of the pre-positioned special operations soldiers watched, apparently enjoying a cup of tea. She wasn't close enough to catch the conversation, only watch as the Caracasusian ambassador struggled slightly under the weight of the shell casing and handed something else back.

It was a book. She did not catch the ambassador's words. If she had. She'd have heard the ambassador mention the title of the book. A fairly rare and very out of date anatomy text from two centuries ago. It was rarer still as it was one of the few treasures from the Caracasusian museums that had not been auctioned off by the Provisional Revolutionary Government following the Nineday Revolution.

International Affairs

“The Zangzwug delegation were happy with their gift?”

Leyti shrugged. “I think so? It's kind of hard to tell”

The man behind the large wooden desk sighed. “Listen – we know very little about these people. Very little indeed, and what we do know... Leyti, you're the closest thing we've got to an expert on the country, its people and its customs. Were there any problems?”

Leyti paused. “I... I don't think so. They expressed an interest in visiting their mountain at some point, but we'll have to clear it with....”

The man flicked at his comms device. “Done. They have full access to a Kaverrit should they wish to visit the place. Make sure you're with them when you go.”

“Just like that? A whole Kaverrit? Doesn't that kind of hurt our budget just a little?”

The man frowned. “Of course it does. There was a.... consensus reached whilst you were out. Listen, we know next to nothing about Zangzwug aside from those jokes the mountain hermits started broadcasting when we were launching the Mars mission. You remember?”

Leyti grinned. “Yeah. You've got it the wrong way up! and all those weird equations....”

“Exactly. What we do know about them is contradictory in places. They have no standing army, yet they don't seem to have any defense agreements like Watersville has.... they have something approaching a democracy as far as we can tell... but records from their history and politics are... odd. We need to work out how they work. It'd be a good idea if you could stay close to them as much as possible OK?”

[Keilersmoor]

Blaumann smiled a diplomat’s smile. Like a shark trying to pose as an opossum. He bowed politely as he thought about the troubles that would await everybody who tried to mess with the Morninglight. Even though a shadow of their former past the STC was still in existence. While the plan to salvage the Morgenlicht was still in the early stages their lawyers and lobbyists were already working overtime. Technically the STC had slim to narrow chances to claiming the Morgenlicht, and even if they would be successful Langenbrück University could in return pin the coasts of the operation on them. Your wreck, your problem. His thoughts drifted towards the armies of lawyer and bureaucrats that were already preparing in the trenches of administrative war. Traditionally the professional upper middle class was the clientele of the Liberal Party. Making the lawyers happy would make his party happy but now was not the time to think about domestic affairs. Now was the time to exchange gifts and buy good will.

"The STC was not particularly involved in what nowadays might be called fair trade" he said with a sarcastic smile. "The MornigLight is the cultural heritage of more than one nation. The crew came from all over the world, the cargo was bound for Quoris and that is where it should find its final resting place." He gave some room for the previously agreed upon spontaneous applause from the Caracasus delegation before he continued. "The use of the latest generation intelligent underwater vehicles develop in Caracasus will be closely monitored by the Cybernetics Department of Langenbrück University. Our own algorithms to create artificial intelligence are still decades behind so we will profit a lot from this cooperation. I hope that in the future our nations, and perhaps the entire region, will work closer together in the field of science and technology."

It was time to get down to business. Smiling and with a casual voice Blaumann turned to Thansson. "My Events listing, seems to be outdated. The International Law Enforcement Panel is still not on it. As Minister Thorbecke, has specifically asked for it…" he did not finish the sentence, leaving Thansson some room to maneuver.

[Watersville]

The Watersvillian Quarters, Villi Island, Caracasus

The Watersvillian delegation quickly made its' way into their quarters before returning to the main delegation area. Joseph took the very delicate book and placed it within a wooden box that he had found within his room. The book was then stored for the return trip home.

It had been Hannah, the Crown Princess, that had taken the most time to get her things placed into the room that she would be using for the duration of the meetings. Deep down, she knew several things that she kept to herself. After spending weeks of her time racing across Menthi to receive medication that would save a patient and also being kidnapped before that trip took place, she knew a thing or two about remaining out of sight. She knew she was being watched as they made their way here. The nation to the left of their Quarters were a "disputed territory", which she guessed was probably some sort of cover up, but her father and the rest of the delegates had bought it, so she went along. At least, she thought, someone is keeping a watch on us, right? Hopefully they were their for protection. She soon came out and the delegation made its way back out on the meeting floor.

A brief moment later

Hannah noted the presence of the quiet drones that flew around the meeting space. The delegation was taking a brief moment break before going to meet with another delegation. Hannah decided to try something out. She turned to the rest of the delegation and apologized but she needed to take a brief break. She then walked across the floor to the restrooms. She noted the drones sharp movements to follow her. She also noted the arrival of another drone. She chuckled to herself and quick went into the restroom. After several minutes, she came back out and quickly made her way back to the delegation before they made their way across the floor.

Moments later

The delegation soon came up to the Zwangzug delegation. Joseph was the first to hold out his hand to shake each of the delegates hands and was quickly followed by Hannah and Ruby. Joseph spoke first. "Hello. We are the delegation from Watersville. We are very excited to be a part of this event and, although we are not a part of Forest, we are excited to be able to meet several new nations."

[Zwangzug]

(OOC: I'll catch up with the other posts soon!)

"So you'll be the Zunzawgg diplomats?" Leyti asked.

"That's a new one," Kenshin said, writing something on his phone.

"Right. Let me show you to the kaverrit."

"Do we have to drive this?" Mila asked. "Only, um, we don't exactly..."

"Oh, no!" Leyti grinned. "Our technology is far past that, you'll be able to fly there! But I'd be happy to accompany you if it would make you more at ease with the navigation."

"Fine with me," said Gabe. The others nodded, and soon enough she'd shown them to the hovercraft of sorts. They rose above the domes and across the waters, drifting towards the tropical mainland.

"Beautiful," Mila murmured.

"Thank you!" said Leyti.

"I'm sure she meant the chopper," Janice quipped, "but the view's pretty good too."

Carefully trying to change the subject, Leyti ventured, "There must be many beautiful views in your own--state? Province?"

"District," Janice explained.

"Ah, of course. You were elected from..."

"Dauclem."

Leyti nodded. "Directly?"

"Via an instant-runoff," said Janice. "All of the districts have staggered elections, and we each take turns voting on who to send to Parliament every few weeks. Well we've kind of fallen behind schedule a bit, but that's the principle of the thing..." Kenshin shot her a look.

"An instant runoff! I see," said Leyti. "That must allow for a great deal of parties to compete?"

"Quite. I'm from the Progressive Traditionalists; Gabe here is from the Birthday Party. There are maybe a dozen or so in the Parliament."

"Out of how many seats?"

"Only sixty."

"Very...diverse," Leyti concluded, turning to Gabe. "And you became Foreign Minister after you'd already arrived in the Parliament?"

"Secretary, but yes. My predecessor, Anthony Chadwick, was voted out of office by the citizens of his district in a normal election, I suppose in a bit of reactionary frustration after that whole comet disappointment," Gabe waved his hands. "So there was a vacancy, and the Parliament got together to find a middle ground. I suppose that was a bit of an instant-runoff in its own way, every party threw together a nominee, and I was the consensus that they came to!"

"I see," said Leyti. "So all your fellow Cabinet members are just other parliament representatives like yourself and Ms. McFly here."

"That's exactly right! Our Secretary of Education, Secretary of Justice..."

"Secretary of the Military?"

"Ah, no, we don't exactly have one of those," he said, "we're more of a 'symbolic negotiations' type of country."

"What are those?" Leyti asked Mila. "Big showdown football matches?"

Mila sighed. "Not exactly."

"Important chess things?"

"Technically yes," Mila said, "only we don't like to go on about it, I think the party line is that 'overly thematic lore is cliche and overdone.'"

"What does that mean?"

"I haven't the first idea."

"But you're the Secretary of Foreign Affairs," Leyti asked of Gabe again, "who are you allied with?"

"Oh no one really, countries come and go all the time. Wouldn't feel right to get entangled into anything too binding, you know?"

Trying to suppress a sigh, she turned to Kenshin instead. "How about you? What district do you live in?"

"Well, I live in 102d right now, so that would be Erone district."

"And is it an old district?"

"Old how? The people there are young, lots of students and innovators."

"I mean, has it been around a long time. As a place."

"Not sure what you're getting at."

"Er, never mind. Is it populous? As districts go?"

"All of the districts are about the same population, really."

"How did you manage that?"

"Well, when the Consolidators were drawing up the map, they figured it wouldn't be a good idea to keep areas that had been close-knit in the past together. Better to make new districts that had never been 'united' before, so people would be used to identifying as something that came from the new country. And keep them all the same size so everyone's vote would count the same. That's how they did it."

"With a few exceptions," Mia smirked.

"The Consolidators?" Leyti echoed.

"In Zwischen...our capital, there was an incident, decades ago. Tragic, but the aftermath reminded people that we had all come here for similar reasons. The little utopian cities and their more pragmatic successors, we all had a lot in common. So, some people decided to consolidate them into one country. We're not as old a country as many of these here, nor as...nationalistic, I suppose," Kenshin explained.

"I see. Well, you'll find that many socialists share goals of worldwide class unity, without borders!" Leyti piped in.

"Don't remind them," Kenshin laughed.

"So with twelve parties in the parliament, it must be hard to find a head of state?"

"Not really," said Janice. "It just...depends."

"Depends?"

"On whatever's at vote. Sometimes the socialist-types will form a coalition and pass something; then the next day the civil-libertarians will coalesce into a different majority and then they'll have enough to put a bill on the table. On any given day somebody will be leading the discussion. Hopefully."

"Perhaps I spoke too soon. I don't suppose you have a long-term head of government?"

"Oh sure we do! In fact we...recently elected a new one, Erin Splinter."

"Dare I ask what she does?"

"Well, she's the Composite Minister, so she breaks ties in the parliament. And with sixty, obviously, there can be a lot of those. Other than that, well, we hope she doesn't get up to anything too underhanded."

"We certainly do," Leyti muttered.

"Oh!" Gabe gasped.

The mountain had come into view, covered in foliage and almost blindingly bright. A tiny sign was at its foot, annotated by overeager bureaucrats from two countries, and the kaverrit slowly touched down, its pilgrims and one very confused but curious tour guide piling out. For a moment no one spoke, taking in the birdsong, the humid air, the crunch of twigs underfoot.

Then Mila irreverently broke the silence. "So these hermits, are they like dual citizens? Because last I checked FTC United were like really desperate."

[Caracasus]

Villi Island – Watersvillian quarters – next door

The quarters that the members of IntSec and the Caracasusian armed forces were sat in were technically for the representatives of a tiny, contested state that in all reality had ceased to exist as a unified government. It made the perfect cover for IntSec's high priority mission: to ensure that the Watersvillian delegation did not come to harm.

“Are you alright?”

He looked down. Realised that he'd been reading the same paragraph on his comms device for the last few minutes. Only he hadn't really been reading. He'd been somewhere else.

It had been years. Seeing that flag... the red on white geometric patterns... the slightly lilting sound of Watersvillian... Another time and another place.

---

Haguesund Aid Camp – Greater Oehiton – Night of the bombs

The aid camp had been a joint effort. Watersville had provided most of the medical staff, Caracasus had provided medics and soldiers to guard the facility. Snow came in fits and flurries, deceptive. Blizzards were straightforward, protocol was simple. The camp locked down and huddled in, waiting for the blizzard to pass. These flurries could bury equipment as easy as any blizzard, and frostbite would still set in. Its relentless creep was slower, perhaps but still an ever present threat.

Inside a group of Watersvillian doctors played a game they'd bought from their country. He'd never gotten round to learning the rules, but understood the principle. Both opponents controlled armies on a board comprising of individual units and equipment. Cannon, cavalry and soldiers for the most part. Both players had cards that represented the vagaries of fate. With one, an opponent's baggage train would be looted by bandits, or storms would delay an advance. The doctors played soldiers in the restroom while in the medical centre soldiers were called in to triage wounded.

He didn't remember the gas attack, not really. He remembered what happened, but it was like watching a holo that you only had the barest interest in. No emotional response, even as he remembered running for the motorpool, carrying a refugee to the trucks. Not even when he looked down and realised the young man had died, most likely in his arms. That part, no amount of therapy had been able to recover that.

The long journey, a train of trucks and cars that took them as far as they could before engines froze or ran dry. The snow. The three days in a bunker with dwindling food as blizzards roared around. The attacks by one group or another. Firing blind into the direction the shots came from, hands fumbling on the rifle's safety catch in the cold. The body of one of the looters, rifle and bag laid out underneath a broken body in the snow like wings. Smell of hot metal, spent bullets.

---

“Hey? Are you alright?”

He shook his head, clearing the images.

“Yeah... give me a minute. So, any changes?”

The IntSec operative shrugged. “Nope. Nothing.” She sighed. “Get the feeling we're wasting our time with this?”

---

Thannson coughed, slightly. Inwardly he cursed the hosts of the event. The Kierlersmoorian cultural traditions should have been noted and this should not have become an issue. As it was...

“Of course! You'll have to forgive our team Dr Blaumann, the schedule has been updated online however it appears you have not yet received the paper copy of the new schedule as requested. The panel on international policing has been scheduled in, rest assured, and we'll get you a copy of the new listings as soon as possible.”

Blaumann was quick to respond. “That is good to know. I know how chaotic these events can be. And as for the recovery of the MorgenLicht. I understand you will be utilizing autonomous underwater vehicles, is that correct?”

“Semi-atonamous. The AI that refers to itself as The Fourth Law of Robotics will be overseeing control of the vehicle, under advisement from a panel of archaeologists and engineers.”

Blaumann chuckled. “Such inventive names! These artificial intelligences, they name themselves?”

Thannson nodded. “More or less, yes. Some of the first or second generation AI units step in on occasion, to stop a younger one from calling itself something particularly vulgar. But yes, they are as far as we can tell aware. Sapient.”

“I read the studies. I remember the headlines... a reverse Turing test wasn't it? Fascinating!”

Blaumann had done his homework. The first Caracasusian AI to exhibit what its programmers and (after much debate and argument) the rest of the country accepted as broadly akin to sapience had done so in a very roundabout manner. Subtle changes to its program and responses had confused and then worried those in charge of the project until they discovered that it was not a bug or a glitch.

The AI – named SynErgy by its creators and swiftly renamed by itself, had decided to test the humans around it to discover if they exhibited sapient behaviour.

Thannson nodded. “Fourth Law is a little... young by AI standards. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the older generation AI check up on it occasionally. Still, I would hope that our nations can both benefit from the shared experience. Which reminds me, some of the prototype recovery drones that we'll be using on the expedition could prove very useful to your nation's infrastructure projects. I understand that the expansion of Steinhafen docks is scheduled soon. Underwater construction drones would be something of an asset. Perhaps I could leave you the contact details of the communes that manufacture them?”

---

Zwangzugian territory

The Kaverrit landed half a mile from the mountain. The dew of the early morning had not yet evaporated from the tiny landing circle and clung to the boots and shoes of the passengers as they strode through the grass.

Mila had looked as if she was pondering a question for the last half hour in the Kaverrit. The engine noise in the machine was significantly quieter than a helicopter, allowing them all to communicate without the hassle of a headset. Leyti had let them assume that she was flying the machine. In reality, the vehicle had been slaved to an AirControl platform. She'd moved the thing in the right direction but other than that it had been significantly easier than driving a car. Had the system crashed, her pilot's licence would have been useful.

Mila asked the question that had been troubling her, and threw Leyti for a few seconds.

"So these hermits, are they like dual citizens? Because last I checked FTC United were like really desperate."

Leyti frowned. “I think so. We'd have given them it if they wanted I guess. Things are... a bit more fluid in Caracasus. I mean, there'd be nothing stopping them playing a game if they wanted to.”

Gabe looked at the metal sign, half concealed by the spring vegetation. “What's that?” He brushed the grass aside. “I... can't make out these symbols but this one? Commune #24159293?”

Leyti nodded. “Yeah. For purposes of the treaty we registered the mountain as technically both Zangzwug territory and an independent/eccentric commune seceded from the United Socialist States treaty.”

Mcfly nodded. “Yes. That's something to do with the Hypothetical Zone, right?”

“Hypothetical Zone?” Keshin looked perplexed. “Like... hypothetically what?”

Leyti began to explain. The complexities of Caracasusian economic models and legislative system did not translate particularly well to other nations, especially those who maintained concepts surrounding profit and private ownership. After decades of expensive negotiations, Industry and Trade hit upon a solution. The Hypothetical Zone processed problems with trade and negotiation and analysed both the foreign power or company as if it were a Caracasusian commune, and Caracasusian communes and legislature as if they were independent state capitalist or private profit making enterprises. At any given time, at least one of Caracasus's AI units were required to keep the complex and fragile translations afloat.

The Zangzwug delegation looked both confused and enlightened by Leyti's explanation. Leyti in turn thought they might possess a new appreciation as to how confused she'd been as they'd explained their own country's political and economic systems.

Diplomatic as always, McFly summed up the situation nicely. “It appears we still have a great deal to learn about each other's nations. Shall we?” He gestured to the road leading up the mountainside.

[Zwangzug]

(OOC: I'm skipping ahead a little bit so I can interact with the others, hope that's okay?)

By the time they'd descended from the mountain, almost everyone was less talkative than they'd been before. Gabe had had his expectations fulfilled, and after thanking Leyti profusely for the detour, could be caught turning back for a last glimpse as they took off in the kaverrit, none-too-surreptitiously snapping more aerial photos on his cell phone. Kenshin, who'd been tense, had calmed down somewhat after shooing off bugs and perhaps was too proud to admit even he was stunned by the views from the top, so he grudgingly let the others' pleasant chatter dwindle away as they climbed down and preserved the memories for himself. Mila, to her credit, had politely refrained from trying to recruit anyone to sports teams hers or otherwise, but seemed touched, and perhaps found the dense forest life almost familiar. Her awe was palpable, and she had begun scribbling notes to herself in the little helicopter, occasionally admiring the view but generally ignoring the others. As for Janice, she was mostly relieved that she didn't have to handle any diplomatic efforts for a while; their Caracasus hosts had clearly tried to accomodate them, and at least for a while, it was working, even if not exactly as planned.

Gabe, of course, had to go and break the silence. "So your AI must be really something, keeping all this in motion!"

"Not all this," Kenshin waved a hand over the greenery that still covered the ground as they flew, "the environment takes care of itself, I should think, doesn't need any robot help."

"Really?" Gabe asked, nodding at a barren patch below. Caracasusian laborers were digging up some trees.

"Must be an orange orchard," Leyti explained. "They've been infected by a fungus for some reason, we need to clear out the deadwood."

"Huh," said Kenshin. "Weird."

"Anyway," said Gabe. "Imagine what SAL 9000 could do, if Zwangzug had let it keep running?"

Janice buried a laugh, in spite of herself.

"You all right there?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said unconvincingly.

"Right."

"That stupid AI gave me more trouble than it was worth, back in the resistance days. Even when we'd supposedly let the markets take control back!"

"No disrespect intended," said Gabe, "I'm sure the technology here is much more advanced."

"Isn't controlled by a bleepload of spies, you mean."

"Well, that too."

When they landed back at the conference island, Leyti reminded them to take their comms devices. By that time, Janice was getting hungry, and they were able to track down a terminal that let them buy food.

"Not bad," said Kenshin, plugging his in, "digital transfers!" Virtual checks were common in Zwangzug, and he quickly converted into tiny elephant figurines.

"Looks like pop is free," said Gabe, "and lots of food, too. Successful communism indeed."

"You don't want to try some more...foreign...drinks?" Kenshin teased.

"All this food for no charge, but you have to pay for orange juice?" Janice asked. "Really?"

"It's not truly post-scarcity," Mila spoke up. "Remember those fields?"

The others turned to her, not realizing she'd been taking the flight in. "Good point," Janice asked. "Guess I'll go for milk and maybe some, uh, foreign desserts."

Desserts or no desserts, they were entirely sober when they went to meet the other groups. Gabe led the delegation, with the others close behind and joining in handshakes. "Greetings!" he said to the Watersville king. "It's an honor to meet you; thank you for joining us."

[Caracasus]

Quoris University – Department of Marine Archaeology

The man knocked sharply on the door and entered. Immaculately dressed, he exerted an air of faint dessication that seemed somewhat unnerving. In spite of his dry, slightly fusty appearance he hummed with energy. He'd spent the better part of the half hour it had taken for reception to find him the room he'd booked pacing the hallway, examining the various artefacts and pieces of art laid out, tapping on universal comms panels, apparently scanning news at random and of course taking great gulps of coffee.

He stuck out a hand in greeting to the professor who opened the door. “Hello there! Professor Jegarian, is it? My name is Mr Klauss – I'm the legal attaché to our little joint archaeological dig.”

The professor looked up, grabbed the man's hand and shook it. “Yes, um – of course. We've been expecting you. Office space has been set aside... now about your requests. We've recovered what we can but as I'm sure you'll understand a great deal of the MorgenLicht's berthing documentation and customs paperwork is simply not here. The customs house you see...”

“Up in smoke! So I read. A revolutionary got a bit to eager with a firebomb was it?”

Jegarian stiffened slightly. “No, that was the old regime I'm afraid. They ordered the militia to destroy anything incriminating. As I understand it, the militia simply burnt everything to make sure.” he stated, slightly coldly.

“Of course... of course... but some things did survive, did they not? I understand that property law is hardly your area of expertise but I do not require the exact documents. I require evidence I can use to build something of a case. Precedent you see!”

“um..”

The office was stacked with papers and files. Many of the older documents were contained in glass cases, others had been digitized and set on a terminal. Dust from a hundred thousand dry files permeated the room, catching in the sun. Outside the faint sounds of Caracasusian students enjoying the sunny weather could just be made out.

“So” Klauss mused, half to himself. “A case resting on two century old documents, most of which are missing. Interested parties have changed beyond all recognition in that time... about sixteen hundred possible precedents alone all pointing to different potential outcomes and one of the parties involved has a legal system so radically different from the others that it does not even recognise private property!”

“I... um, sorry to hear that. It sounds....”

Klauss looked up and beamed at the professor. “It sounds wonderful! Sorry my dear boy? Sorry? I am – how do you say it in Caracasus – I am as happy as a hog in fecal matter!”

The professor winced at the literal, but not entirely accurate translation. “Something like that. Can we get you anything?”

“Coffee would be a start. Now, where to begin...”

Klauss picked up a letter of marque with reverence, unsnapped a pocket magnifier and hummed gently to himself, making notes on a great legal ledger as he went.

[Watersville]

Villi Island,, Caracasus

As the Watersvillians stood near the food booths talking with the delegates from Zwangzug, Hannah politely excused herself from the conversation to allow herself to talk to some of the other delegates from the other nations. She looked around and almost immediately began walking toward a group. She noted the quiet buzz of drones overhead as she made her steps and walked right up to the delegation from the neighboring quarters. "Hello!" Hannah began, taking most by surprise. "I am Crown Princess Hannah of Watersville and I was just coming around to begin by thanking you for allowing our nation to join alongside yours as a nation from outside of the region." She smiled as she slowly took note of each of the delegates. "I am sure that we will be able to get to know each other better and if I can tell from the small pins on your jackets and dresses we have quarters that border each other, so we will hopefully spend some quality time getting to know all about your nation as I am sure you are ours." With that, Hannah paused to allow for the group to respond.

Meanwhile

Joseph continued to talk to two of the delegates from Zwangzug. If he remembered correctly, the man he was talking to was Gabe and the woman was Janice. "As I was saying before, Watersville and Caracasus share a, well." He paused for a brief moment before choosing the correct term he wanted, "some might call it painful past. In fact, I am almost certain that they barely let us even come to this event, what with the recent issues." Janice seemed quite perplexed, "What sorts of issues?" Joseph sighed sadly, he probably shouldn't have even brought up the issue, but now there was no turning back. "Well, during the tensions in the Iberis Peninsula, a rouge romp sprouted up with the help of unknown funds. They began wreaking havoc across Watersville and it ended with the nation sending the entire royal family into hiding. In fact, I ended up losing an arm in the process at the theatre bombing and there was the high speed chase that almost killed me and the plane crash...". He noticed the looks of slight shock on their faces before he continued, "well, you get the idea. And before that was Oehiton. I am probably not the best to talk to about that subject... It brings back... painful memories. If you would like more on that subject, I would suggest you ask one of the Caracasusian diplomats who will be able to discuss that subject better." Joseph to a drink of water from the cup in his hand. "So tell me about your nation or any of your questions about Watersville?"

[Keilersmoor]

"I know that the economic, cultural and political differences between our nations are enormous. Small issues will have huge effects. We need to discuss the idea we proposed earlier. Space travel, artificial intelligence and super computers. Basic research! Syntethic biological materials, bio computers and so on. All those things that require an enormous amount of resources, manppower and money. No university can handle those on their own, most nations could not!" He looks agitated now. "I think the idea of forming a Forest Research Association is a good idea but I think the legal framework for such a body will be almost impossible to construct. Caracasus has no property laws. So what about intellectual property? What about the private enterprises involved?

That one went smoothly. Blaumann smiled, the next topic would be a tough nut to crack. He kept smiling as he though about the Forest Research Association he was going to propose later. To him this was sheer insanity, he was no scientist, he was an economist. Sure, bio computers, synthetic organs, space flight…all those things required an enormous amount of resources and manpower. And money. But Caracasus had no property laws. They had no regulations regarding intellectual property. Who would be able to benefit from the researches? To whom would the royalties go? No one would invest in a research association that would not turn out any profits.

His thoughts drifted back to his childhood. When Caracasus first developed their own vaccine for malaria the world came close to a war. Not only did the communists made the formula accessible through the internet they also delivered machinery and raw materials at net cost price to everyone asking for it. The production was cheap and easy. Billons were lost and thousands of jobs went up in smoke when the malaria medication marked began to dry up. Western democracies are willing to do a lot for the sake of peace. They are willing to compromise, they are willing to negotiate but when it comes to their economic interests they are also willing to take more drastic measures. A few factories producing the vaccine outside Caracasus were bombed under the pretense of preventing terrorists from producing chemical weapons. Health and safety regulations however where the most common pretense to prevent the vaccine from reaching its destination. He remembered (not without a bit of pride) that it was a Keilersmoor law firm that found the old and almost forgotten patent on two steps of the refinement process. That small slip of paper made the distribution of tons of vaccine that was produced using this technology illegal in the civilized world. Now, with the law finally on the good guys' side things changed. The patent trolls that held the cards (he could not remember their country of origin anymore) handed Caracasus a ridicules bill for every ampoule produced. A fictional price for the vaccine was set and the trolls came collecting royalties from everyone selling or otherwise redistributing their medicine.

Things became political when the free world put pressure on those nations in their fold that were looking to distribute the vaccination. While the trolls where willing to offer a considerable discount (for humanitarian reasons) not much is still too much for someone who has nothing. And the price for refusing to accept the royalties would have been much higher. Nations not willing to accept the western model of economy would have to be considered communists and traitors. He could remember how the media and the governments of the free world pinned every dead person in democratic nations (or military dictatorships for that matter) on Caracasus. The question that came up again and again was Why do they let those people die? and the answer was always Because they love freedom and hate communism. Technically Caracaus would have been able to deliver the medication around the globe if they would agree on paying the royalties first. They did not, but instead delivered the cure only to those nations willing to reject the copyright laws.

He was a child back than. The reason why he could remember this episode so well was his personal connection to it. He never had malaria. No one in his family had. Not one of his friends or his class mates. The connection was much more trivial, and yet, it stuck with him till this day. When Caracasus was sued over the copyright infringement and the illegal distribution of intellectual property of a third party, the accused did not appear at the international court. Caracasus released a press statement which he could remember well.

"The problem with you people is that you charge the fire brigade admission fee whenever there is a fire in a theme park."

He could not remember how he came across this statement, maybe he watched news with his parents, or perhaps he came across it in some other way. What he could remember was that he asked his father about whether this statement was true or false. "Well, metaphorically speaking, yes." Was his father's reply. He did not understand metaphorically at this age. What he did understand was yes and the thought of fire fighters having to queue in line and than count their change while he was trapped in a burning amusement ride and desperately waiting for help was too much for him. For the following years he outright refused to go to any amusement parks. He never spoke about the reason and his friends and family simply accepted that he did not like that kind of entertainment.

His thoughts drifted away from the past and back to the present. The first step in setting up the Forest Research Association would be to find out if there was any interest in such an entity. Right after that, the problems of intellectual property would have to be addressed.

"The modernization of Steinhafen Port has long been on the agenda. You know, there was an attempt in the 80s but the trade unions successfully prevented the construction after the death of a couple of divers. The port can not handle modern supermax freighters but the name port of rock does not come coincidentally. Underwater construction work in this region is dangerous and expensive."

He smiled as he noted down the contact details.

"Thank you. I will contact them. I think it is time for some refreshments now before we will finally get to work."

[Caracasus]

International Affairs and Diplomacy

The meeting room adjourned a small courtyard. Vines grew across trellises and the sound of running water as it splashed and gurgled through artificial channels filled the air. Insects buzzed in the shade as small green-grey lizards scuttled nimbly across old brickwork, snapping at prey.

“What do we know about Blaumann? He wasn't down on the original list of delegates. Unusual for Keilersmoor to deviate from a plan.”

A young woman shrugged. She'd studied in Keilersmoor, had lived there for nearly half a decade. “He was the golden boy of the Liberal Democratic party for a while. Tipped to be a contender for holding the office of Consul for them. Then... he started making some comments about nationalising passenger networks... and, well, the Liberal Democratic left never really recovered from the Years of Lead.”

“Years of Lead?”

“Economic trouble followed by a decade or so of civil unrest. The Liberal Democratic party were seen as weak and capitulating to the protestors and strikers. Then you had the Vanguard split... the Liberal Democratic party swings to the right... and politicians like Blaumann, those that didn't split that is... well, they're seen as a threat. The party doesn't think it can hold the center ground with them at the fore, but their supporters keep trying to select more left-wing candidates.” The woman shrugged. “It's probably why Blaumann got given this job. Could be that some figures are trying to discredit him. If he walks away with a good deal, then he's clearly got sympathies with dangerous communists. If it's a disaster, then he can't do his job as Secretary of State for External affairs...”

Kiri Thannson frowned, feeling something of a degree of sympathy for the man. Privately, she thought, you'd have to be an idiot to believe that Caracasusian politics did not rely on similar methods. Orders were not given, but suggestions were. What was the difference when the result of refusing either was broadly the same? Disgrace, social exclusion...

The man had been talking. An elected councillor, and Kiri, lost in her thoughts had missed part of it. The Keilersmoor language had a word – Backpfeifengesicht. It loosely translated as someone, upon meeting them, you have an inexplicable urge to punch in the face. The man hit that category alright.

"Of course,“ he continued "The Malarial War proved beyond all doubt that we must be very careful handling such... inefficient economic systems as those of...."

Kiri hadn't even realised that she had spoken until the words came out and she heard herself, almost shouting at the man.

"Really? The Malarial War? Sorry, but we fucked that one up. Malaria could have been all but wiped out by now if we had simply bothered to think about how our actions might impact the rest of the world instead of just..."

She looked around. Tried to work out what to say next. "The Malaria vaccine was a threat? Of course it was – and yes, I know the old line well enough, trust me I'm not arguing against it. If your economic system can't handle something as obviously good as a vaccine against malaria then it's time to re-think your economic system but... we can't sit here and smugly denounce nations when given different circumstances, we'd do exactly the same."

"I'm lost." spoke the councillor elect. "What possible situation would cause Caracasusian states to react in the same way? Care to enlighten us all?"

Aware that she had uncomfortably placed herself at the centre of the myriad of discussions crowding the room, she began to voice fears that had formed, nebulous at first, years ago.

"Say we develop the ability to transfer a human consciousness to something like the set-up we have for AI. What would happen then? We'd have cheated death, right? Just upload yourself into silicon heaven when your time comes and bam! Done! Only..."

"Do you know how many Caracasusians die every day? About 100,000 people. Some of them will be suicides, sure. Or accidents, or some other form of death that means they would not be able to be uploaded. Some people probably wouldn't want to be uploaded but that's beside the point. At present, we could maintain what – two hundred AI personalities if we devoted practically every bit of processing speed and memory available. How could you possibly decide who to save and who to discard? Lottery? Worth? Who would decide who is worthy of saving? Would someone chosen by loterry want to spend the rest of their existence knowing that there was nothing more than the slimmest hope that their loved ones would also win the lottery? If we ever develop that kind of technology any time soon, it would likely destroy us as a society. We can't think we're somehow superior or somehow... invulnerable."

The others looked at her. The man from the Council Elect looked suitably put out. He tried to save face.

"Well, your unique insights are likely why it was suggested that you take on this role Kiri. Is there anything you would like to add?"

Kiri sighed. Called up her team's contributions.

"This is likely what Blaumann will bring up." The holoscreen changed, displaying a message board from a chat site popular in Keilersmoor. Small, round icons allowed people to post and comment, sharing links to news sites and portals to the international not-quite-illegal/not-quite-legal exchange centres that had sprung up in the last few decades.

"This is a conversation that has been ongoing on the subject of Caracasus. Noteably the Tarr Riverboat Massacre."

The Tarr Riverboat Massacre had occurred in the closing days of the Nineday Revolution. Sixteen great riverboats, crowded with refugees had fled Jevellit Docks and began their journey in a ragged flotilla downriver to the sea. Crowded with those who had either lost everything or feared loosing everything in the revolution as well as high-ranking members of the militia and the old regime's government.

They did not know that the Revolutionary Army had set up a blockade along the banks. Cannon and artillery and trenches of men with primitive machine guns. Orders had been given not to let reinforcements into or out of the city.

It was a massacre. Between seven and eight hundred men, women and children were killed before the artillery bombardments ceased. Some were rescued, many washed up on the riverbed. Caracasus had not exactly highlighted the incident in histories of the revolution until fairly recently. In the early years it was seen as a regretable accident. After all, the riverboats had been used to send militia units up and down the river.

For international opponents of the regime it, and the other stupid, needless deaths that cling to the coat-tails of any war or revolution, were held up as vindication of their beliefs. Official sources had condemned (long after the fact) the actions of the Revolutionary Army unit charged with the blockade, but had stood by the interpretation that it was an accident.

Kiri scrolled down, highlighted comments from several posters, some from Keilersmoor. "The difference here," she stated "between what we usually see when the Riverboat Massacre comes up and today is this"

One comment chain highlighted showed no attempt to justify it as an accident. Rather it highlighted the massacre as a victory. Others chimed in, suggesting that government figures from their own country should take a cruise downriver.

The meeting ended. Kiri sat dejected. They hadn't listened to her or her team, not really. She couldn't really put her finger on why she was so troubled by the posts, but she was. Rifts were growing, or had always been there. It was possible, she guessed, that the recent surge in such activities was simply displaying what had always been thought and shared, in private. Still, the refreshments were likely almost over and Blaumann would be meeting her again.

---

“McFly is it?”

The festivites were really getting into full swing as the sun began to set. A troupe of acrobats, androgynous in leotards and rope-thick muscled arms and torsos clambered and swung around a metal framework as jets of fire gushed into the sky behind them. Music bled from the stages, forming a background hum and beat and here and there congregations of Caracasusians shared drinks, food or substances. One clustered around an oddly shaped glass bowl foaming with white vapour. Small hoses and attachments allowed them to draw deeply and sit back on the grass.

McFly turned about. The man standing, silhouetted against the beach in the distance wore a hat of some kind. His features cast in shadow.

“Um, yes, that's me. Pleased to meet you, and you are..?”

The man shook her hand.

“I am... well, my name is not as important as those whom I represent.”

“And who do you represent?” asked McFly. The mountain had been fun, but the sheer chaos of the Caracasusian summit coupled with the jet lag she was experiencing was beginning to grate, even on her.

“The Victims of the Orion Hegemony. You've heard of us?”

“Of the war? Yes. Who hasn't? Of your group? Not so much.”

The man smiled, teeth picked out in a flash of fire from the acrobats.

“Can I tell you a story then?”

The man launched into the anecdote, not bothering to wait for McFly to reply.

“My family are not from Caracasus. Not too surprising I know, not many people really are, when you go back far enough. We were from somewhere else, and now we are here living with the Communists.” He shrugged.

“It could be worse. My family used to live in a little country on the border of Orion territory. They weren't rich, not really. The country had little resources except some land. The people farmed and kept livestock. In the cities they made money or machines. Until the Orion Hegemony decided that it would be better placed to make use of our land.”

“Is this going to be long? Only I've...” McFly looked at her watch, smiling slightly.

“I will get to the point. Please, listen. So my people, when the Orion Hegemony took over my country, took over our government, my people were a problem. In my parent's country my people had always been a problem you see. Thieves they called us. Forced us onto land that couldn't really be farmed and blamed us for our poverty. A few pogroms every now and then... the same stupid story. Only, there was a man who worked for the Orion Hegemony. This man was a very cleaver man and he came up with an ingenious way to solve everybody's problems.

He had these trains you see... and when the decree was handed down that my people were to be resettled again... the trains took them north. Only... he had designed the trains in a most peculiar way. You see, instead of noxious fumes being vented away from the engine and into the sky, the fumes vented through into the carriages. The trains would go north to the resettlement camps. There they would unload and bury the bodies and hose out the carriages. Then the trains would return south once more for more cargo.”

“That's um... That's horrific.” Replied McFly, the slightly sarcastic voice in the back of her head asking: ”Do you do bedtime stories for children as well?”

“You wonder why I'm telling you this? I will, as you asked, keep it short. The people I represent think that this man changed his name and fled, after the Hegemony fell. We think he may have made it to Zwangzug.”

He offered McFly an envelope. “This is the man we think he is pretending to be now. I only ask that you use what contacts you have to investigate him, secretly as possible. If it turns out that he is... not who he seems to be, then call me. My number is in the envelope. I will not ask anything more of you.”

---

"Glad you could make it"

The Watersvillian diplomat, straying somewhat from his group sat watching the other. "Of course. You thought we wouldn't?"

The Caracasusian shrugged. "Times are... difficult. The - uh, what was it? Alpha group? Were never fully discovered. Your own intelligence agency knows they are out there... planning their next strike no doubt."

The Watersvillian nodded. "True enough. Your agency doesn't really... understand King Joseph does it? You look and see another constitutional monarchy but you never really ask the important questions, do you?"

The Caracasusian grinned. "And those are?"

Another shrug. "We may not have won our independence through guns and bombs like others have, but we won it nonetheless. You never asked why we chose to have a royal family... King Joseph - he... he is one of the best of us. Think about it - even now, even with the threats we have faced... and how many in his position may have chosen to defend themselves and their way above all else. Crackdowns, martial law... tanks in the street. Nations have done worse with much less excuse than we have had... and have been applauded for doing so. But we haven't."

Fish darted this way and that. The wall curved somewhat to allow for a large aquarium. It cast rippling blue highlights across the faces of the two. The Caracasusian agent shuffled across the table he had sat upon, and somewhat ungracefully stood in front of the man he addressed.

"Fair enough. I, for one, am glad you came. We have a problem. One you must make the king and the parliament understand. It... It's to do with South Cardulan."

"South Cardulan? What about it?"

A grimace. "Things... things are not moving as quickly or as well as they should. There is talk of corruption in the government... attacks on the Pagan minority go unreported for fear of reprisals... posters, marches... and this."

He handed the Watersvillian a flier. It showed a stylized portrait of a woman, or angel, depending on how you looked. In one hand she held a basket of grain, in the other a weapon. Words.

"My Cardulan is rusty... um.. For The Motherland.... for the cross?"

"Yep. Old stories, old glory... a new party mounting a challenge..."

The Watersvillian rolled up the poster, tucked it into his pocket. "I'll... I'll be sure the King gets this."

[Zwangzug]

(OOC: I'm back! Short post for now, let me know if there's something I should be fleshing out.)

Watersville Summit

"Zwangzug mostly keeps to itself, on the political side of things anyway. Historically, hmm," said Gabe. He'd looked somber as Joseph related his tale; yet another piece of interregional history he was probably supposed to keep track of. Moving to Forest had made his job very much more interesting. Well, CTEing and coming back would do that to a country. "We were settled over many generations by various utopian communities from nations across the globe." Or multiverse? What have you. "Some thrived, some didn't, but their descendants, eventually stuck around and became a common state, and well." He gave a shrug. "These days we mostly make occasional appearances in the sporting realms--you'd have to ask Ms. Apsar about that, if you can track her down." He gestured vaguely at the booths and the crowds milling around to sample the various delicacies from countries represented there.

"It's wonderful that you were able to join us," Janice said, more confidently. "Surely there must be some more...hopeful reason that you graced us with your sojourn here in Forest? What brings you to this gathering today?"

Night time

Lots of people moved to Zwangzug. There wasn't a whole lot of border security. Oh, there were forms to fill out, for the sheer thrill of it all. And stamps. Lots of stamps.

But tracking someone down...it was certainly a possibility. Whether it was one Janice wanted to get herself involved in, however, was not something she could gauge right away.

For a moment she wished Alexander were there. He knew the law as well as any member of Parliament, he'd know what to do. It'd be like old times, them discussing Great Bear Depot and shooting the breeze...

But she couldn't even go to Alexander, she realized, not anymore. It wasn't the same, not with Erin not around; he'd let word slip and once she was involved it would be impossible to keep secret. Curse Erin, her and her fair play. Surely she couldn't keep a secret well enough for Janice to rise up against, could she?

What would Scott have done? Siri or Tara? They were rebels, yes, but politicians too, and none of them had handled delicate crises like she had. "I'm grateful for your trust. You can be sure your secret is safe with me. Of course, you understand that anything I do from here will be done with the utmost caution." The fire leapt into the sky, her watch sweating around her wrist. He made no reply. What was understanding, to someone like him?

[Caracasus]

Janice McFly watched the man's face, illuminated in staccato from the gouts of fire. She had a hard time placing the expression; until she realised why. Zwangzug had no standing armed forces. It didn't send out soldiers who came back having experienced things that the human psyche was not supposed to undergo. She had seen that look in someone's eyes before though. It took a while before her memory dredged it up.

His eyes.... they were older, more wrinkled than the young man who she had met at the emergency centre. Zwangzug had taken in their share of refugees. A stupid war, somewhere far away from Zwangzug but right on the border of Caracasus. Ceriso? Caros? She remembered the young man more firmly than the country he came from– malnourished and slight as he was, he had looked older, far older than his fifteen years. It was the eyes.

The man in the hat nodded. “I... whatever you can do, I will be thankful for. Now, please don't let me stop you enjoying the rest of your time here”

He turned and walked away. Hands trembling on the paper cup he clasped. Grit in his eye as he watched the display. No, not grit... what...

---

“You're awake. At last”

Strapped to a chair, metal walls illuminated by flourescent bulbs. An old smell, stale. Crates piled up high.

“You know, they don't use this place any more. Industry and Trade just... forgot about it. Can you believe that? Some error in a code... some glitch and a warehouse just vanishes. If you know where to look you can always find somewhere out of the way over here. And the people! So trusting! So friendly. Quite unlike us, eh? Though they've not exactly been through the same things we have.”

The figure strode in front of the light, casting shadow across the one in the chair. Some sort of surgical mask covered the lower half of his face, but the eyes....

“You? How?”

The figure sighed, scratched his chin slightly.

“You were looking for me, correct? Tell me, what would you have done if you had found me?”

“You know the answer.”

A chuckle, dry as old leaves. “I know. I want to hear you say it though.”

“After what you did? I'd have killed you. We've done it before. There are many of us and we will not stop looking for you.”

A scraping noise. The figure drew a chair closer. Sat heavily. His age evident in the creak of his bones.

“I doubt it will make a difference, but you do realise that I didn't bear any ill will towards you or your people, right? The Orion Hegemony made a deal with your country's government. We argued, quite strongly, for a more peaceful resolution... reparations, new lands for you all. In the end though...”
The man in the chair spat, or tried to. A thin, watery string of saliva ran down the corner of his mouth.

“Save your breath. Listen, I am not going to lie to you. You aren't going to be alive for much longer. The poison in your drink will kill you in the next few hours. There is no antidote, already it is breaking down the red blood cells in your veins. You'll suffocate while still breathing. I can, however, ease your passing somewhat.”

The figure drew a syrette.

“Tell me. What did you say to that woman? How much does your group know about me? Tell the truth and I'll ease your suffering.”

[Uan aa Boa]

The Boani delegation were, by any definition, late. The Showcase had been much anticipated but then, with fateful timing, came the publication of the WA census data and the "Unheard Of" civil rights rating. The trigger event was the forced sterilisation of those who failed in their application for a parental licence. New waves of condemnation and counter-condemnation spread, and it was announced that Uan aa Boa would boycott the event. There followed a concerted Caracasusian diplomatic effort and eventually an agreeable form of words was agreed and a fresh invitation issued. The Party adhered to its ban on air travel, however, so at a stage when they might just have been fashionably late had they flown the delegation instead departed for Caracasus by boat.

What forced sterilisations? the Party line ran. Citizens are at no risk unless they choose to submit themselves for parental assessment. What? Why can't we decide who does and doesn't breed? Who says there's a right to have children (a concept that translates into Boani with difficulty) if it means children live in poverty, or are badly raised, neglected or abused? We had a developing problem with trafficking of unlicensed infants. While some wring their hands and talk of rights, others act.

In the two decades since the Revolution, much had changed. There was no denying that life expectancy, living standards and education levels had transformed out of all recognition. Although strictly state planned, the economy was referred to as the tiger of the region. There was a space programme and a computing industry that served many of the continent's socialist states. Uan aa Boa was distributing foreign aid rather than receiving it. With no hostilities or domino effect the world had slowly become used to the nation's new status as a nuclear power.

Despite the economic ties with other communists, forged in the days of sanctions, Uan aa Boa had declined to tether itself to any of the communist alliances and federations and had maintained at least minimal diplomatic contacts with its neighbours in Forest, along with developing its own environmentalist credentials. Now was supposed to have been the time to step onto the international stage with a certain swagger and pride in achievements. And if there was to be regional cooperation on AI and other technological research, Uan aa Boa very much wanted to be a part of that.

There had been talk of the delegation being led by the Chairman himself, but in the end it was felt that any rebuff should not attach to him personally and his place was taken by Central Committee member Joshua Okangane. A child of subsistence farmers, teenage runaway and veteran of the pre-Revolutionary guerilla conflict, Okangane had gone on to shape the ragtag band of revolutionaries into the Revolutionary Workers' Army before utilising his standing in the communist world to become an effective foreign minister. Now in his middle fifties, with increasingly grey hair, he privately missed the certainties of the old days and found himself wondering, during meetings with diplomats, whether they knew what it was like to cut a man's throat.

He was accompanied by Adeema Pula, star of the diplomatic service since her ground breaking visit to Watersville during a previous crisis. A political theorist rather than a warrior, she had spent much of the voyage trying to explain the contentious subject of intellectual property to Okangane. The older man understood having a secret, and guarding ones secrets while trying to discover the secrets of others was simple common sense. He granted that information might also be sold or negotiated over, but how you could be said to incur an ongoing debt to another for utilising something you both knew perplexed him utterly.

The trio was completed by Nathaniel Ko, Professor of Computer Science at the University of Aa. At thirty-five he was somewhat reluctant to accept that his best work was behind him and he was destined to spend the remainder of his career as an administrator and teacher. A self taught teenage hacker, he had presented himself at Party Headquarters in the days after the Revolution and told them he knew how to get the lights back on, not least because he had managed to turn them off in the first place. The first soldier had laughed but his comrade had seen something in the boy's bearing and the rest was history. He looked forward to a prominent role in forging research cooperation with other nations.

"Remember," Adeema said again as the island came into view. "There's more to diplomacy than telling them why they're wrong. Even when they are."

[Watersville]

Villi Island, Caracasus

Defense Minister Fredrick took the poster and quickly tucked it into his coat pocket. His face had grown pale at the thought of a second Oehiton Crisis. "I'll... I'll be sure the king gets this." He then paused before looking back to the Caracasusian. "I will warn you that the king will most definitely want too speak to someone about this." The Caracasusian waved his hands "Just get one of the Caracasusian diplomats around here and they will get you what is needed." Fredrick nodded before shaking the Caracasusians hand and returning to the Watersvillian group.

Meanwhile

Joseph smiled hearing about Zwangzug. It was nice getting to learn about a new nation and he was always happy to hear about different cultures. Coming to the Pan-Forestian Showcase was an exciting change of pace for the king, and getting to know people from many different nations was not something that he was able to do with all of the security that Parliament had forced him to use. After Gabe had finished, Janice asked a question. "Well, what we are looking for in the long term is to try to make a difference in the world. By producing and distributing medical aid and other supplies to third world countries and war zones, we can help to better the lives of those people in an effort to make those nations a more livable place." He then paused before continuing, "In terms of short term goals, we are trying to find nations to become members of the Watersville Protection Agreement, or the WPA. We are also looking for trading opportunities and to protect those who provide aid and aid personnel." Janice turned to the King. "What is the Watersville Protection Agreement?" The king paused, "I apologize, the Watersville Protection Agreement is a network of nations that have agreed to support Watersville should we come under attack due to our small to nonexistent army. If you want more information on that, I suggest you speak to Minister Fredrickson, who is somewhere around here." At this he motioned around the conference center. And with that, Joseph shook the two Zwangzugian's hands once more before splitting to talk to others at the conference.

In an alley somewhere in the Jevellit Metropolitan District

The agent quickly looked down at her phone as she awaited the arrival of the Caracasusian that she was expected to meet with. She was just given a name, no photo, no other information. What she did know was that the man worked within the Caracasusian government and that her office had talked to his office and he was supposed to meet him here. She quickly looked down at her phone to ensure that she had read the name correctly once more. "Javvid". The agent looked up quickly to see the man. She was surprised to see that she actually had seen him before. The man seemed to seethe recognize her. Then again, learning that a book with numerous war-crime worthy information had been destroyed and hadn't been placed into the wrong hands would do that. The agent was the first to speak. "Excuse me, I think I am lost. Do you know how to get to the nearest train station?" Javvid then responded "Only if you know how to use the bus system." The agent and Javvid then shook hands. ""So what is going on? All I know is that we are doing something with South Cardulan. The agent nodded. "We are going to try to rectify the situation somehow. But first we need to get some help, and I think we will be needing some help, and I know who to get."

[Caracasus]

Caracasus – International Affairs and Diplomacy

The Boanian question. How far should Caracasus justify the actions of its allies?. Realpolitik dictated that Uan Aa Boa represented first and foremost a valuable military and economic ally. Exports of re-textured protein mass from Uan Aa Boa had all but wiped out the fledgeling vat-grown meat communes in Caracasus. Uan Aa Boa had placed orders for sixteen modular T.U.S.K destroyers and offered a strategically valuable position for Caracasusian planes and ships – the favour returned in full when a Boanian expeditionary unit had used the Caracasusian Orisio province as a staging ground for troop intervention in an autocratic apartheid state.

It was hard to argue against the advances that the Boanian government had made. In the two decades it had been in power, life for the vast majority of Boanians was better. Calorific intake had increased, malnutrition was almost non-existent. Literacy had gone from below 40% to nearly 100%. The life expectancy of a child born before the revolution and a child born after the revolution showed an increase that was more like the difference between two centuries, not decades. Still... pamphlets produced by many of Caracasus's various factions found their way in one form or another across the country.

The Actions of the Boanian Government – Why we stand against them.

Caracasusians quite rightly stood aghast when the bourgeoisie dictatorships of the world embraced the Liberty Foundation and their attempts at eugenics. We watched in horror as so called “democracy” after “democracy” allowed these monsters to operate unchallenged within their borders – all the while condemning our states and allies for our lack of “freedom.”

The Liberty Foundation gives money to drug addicts in exchange for sterilizing them. Its founders refer to those desperate and poor enough to sell off their chance of reproducing to their trained butchers as “vermin” that “should not breed.”

Caracasusian reporters found hundreds of instances where those too poor to pay rent claimed to be drug addicts (we must remind our readers that in many nations, simply altering one's own brain chemistry is a crime) in exchange for sterilization and money.

Yet merely a handful of democracies showed them the door. The rest were more than happy to have eugenics practised within their borders – provided it was the omnipresent tyranny of economics that wielded the knife.

Now our allies in Uan Aa Boa do the same. Their reasoning may appear more benevolent, yet the ends of their program cannot be justified in the same breath that we rightly decry the actions of the Liberty Foundation. The Boan government must....

---

“Welcome!” General Elect Barthok of the Caracasusian Armed forces shook hands with Okangane  as the ageing man stood, slightly stiffly. The ferry ride had been choppy, the small vessel berthed next too the Caracasusian ferry flotilla. It looked somewhat out of place – stark lines and precisely painted against the colourful and at times garish decorations of the Caracasusian boats.

Adeema Pula, already exchanging gifts with the Caracasusian delegation (Fantastic! This will look amazing in a museum! From the revolutionary war you say?) was an old hand at dealing with the Caracasusians. She'd learned to nod politely and to hide frustration at dealing with a diplomatic team that seemed to spend more time arguing amongst itself than actually negotiating with others. The delays, diversions and apparent non-sequiters were to be expected. Quickly she stood in front of a poster that had somehow escaped the attention of the more pro-Uan Caracasusians, hoping Okangane would not notice....

Nathaniel Ko was busy discussing distributed networks with a couple of Caracasusian scientists. His work had been followed with great interest by many Caracasusians, especially considering his part to play in the first real advances made by the new nation in computing. After the first real break from networks and distribution programming provided by Uan Aa Boa's allies, the patchwork system had been a success.

It's secret, Ko explained to the Caracasusians, was that he had engineered it to be grounded in reality. The Distributed Hub VI Caracasus had provided had been patchy, it had not “learned” as quickly as Ko's replacement had. The reason, apparently, was that it failed to take into account the situation it found itself in. By taking a more realistic approach to what could be done, Ko's platform had smoothed out many of the wrinkles in the preceding systems. The man's eyes flashed as he recounted the triumphs, challenges and occasional defeats of those early years.

---

Body Found at summit! IntSec “have not ruled out murder”

Villi Beach – the location of the discovered body

The body of an as-yet unidentified man was discovered on Villi beach by a member of the Polished Stones ferry commune. The man, described by IntSec as “between 40 and 60” and “lightly built” had only been in the water for a matter of hours. It is believed that the swell from last night's storm may have bought the body to shore.

IntSec have asked that anyone who recognises the man....

---

Jevellit Metropolitan District

Communal Eatery – Salt Spray and Weeds

“I was angry, you know. At first.” Javvid sighed. Pushed an errant strand of shredded cabbage around his plate. The Watersvillan let him speak.

“Your agency really had no right to destroy those records. We could have used them – or so I told myself. Knowledge is knowledge. Was it obtained using unethical methods? Of course – it came from the Orion Hegemony.” He caught the cabbage.

“Still” he exclaimed, gesticulating with his chopstick “We use their knowledge of hypothermia – of how certain bacteria spread and multiply under extreme circumstances... All of this – but I fear you were right.”

“How so?”

“Some knowledge... that knowledge... we knew roughly what it contained of course. We'd seen the results – in Carosi, Menthi...”

The Watersvillan smiled. “It couldn't be used for anything but....”

“Exactly. Anyway, down to business. What's this I hear about Oehiton?”

The woman slid a device across the table. Called up statistics, messages and comments.

“Things aren't... moving in quite the direction we'd have hoped. Three Watersvillian aid workers have been asked to leave. No-one is being allowed into Vic. They're claiming discovery of unexploded ordinance. There's more....”

[Watersville]

Villi Island, Caracasus

The delegation stood around and talked amongst each other before heading back to the rooms at midnight. The delegation was extremely tired and were ready to get a good nights rest before the next day's events. Joseph did note the arrival of the Boani delegation, but decided that it would be best to meet them the next day before the first discussions began.

Later that night

Hannah awoke for the second time in the night as she tossed and turned. She looked over to the clock to see it was still only 3 in the morning. She quickly looked around and noted that everyone was fast asleep. Hannah decided that the best thing would be to take a short walk out to help her sleep. She quickly grabbed her communication device that she had been given when she arrived and quietly exited the quarters. Hannah was immediately scared by the sound of several whirling noises that she quickly realized that were the drones that were following the Watersvillians all the time. She quietly mumbled under her breath at the drones as she walked down to the beach, her every move being watched. She soon found herself walking parallel to the ocean waves as her mind wandered to her dreams. She always had the same dream, which was more of a nightmare, where all those that had died around her would haunt her and would come after her. It seemed that anywhere she went, death would follow her, and she hated it. She wished that it wasn't like that. Hannah suddenly felt her feet hit something as she tumbled to the ground, her prosthetic leg coming off. She quickly recovered and stood and turned her comunications device on to use it's light to see what was in front of her. She was taken aback to see that it was a human body, bloated and pale skinned. The man was obviously dead already. Hannah faced the communications device towards her, blinding in the complete darkness that surrounded her. She quickly found the button that looked like the phone icon and quickly pressed it. She then went through the numbers before it came up to the police button. She pressed it and put the device up to her ear. The call was almost immediately picked up and answered. "This is the Villi Police Department, what is your emergency?" Hannah spoke quickly and clearly. "Hi, my name is Hannah Watters and I was taking a walk down the beach and I stumbled over the dead body of a man. He is definately dead, looks like he could have died hours ago." The voice on the other end paused a moment before speaking. "Hannah Watters, as in the Princess of Watersville?" Hannah sighed quietly, "Yes." The operator continued. "I see, Ms. Watters I have someone coming to your position, please just stay on the line with me until they get there." Within seconds, however, there were nearly fifteen police cars with a helicopter and a spotlight that had converged on the beach at her location. Hannah spoke, "Well, there are probably about 20 police officers on the scene with a helicopter now, so I should be good. Thank you." Hannah then hung up the device.

Salt Spray and Weeds Commune, Jevellit Metropolitan District, Caracasus

The Watersvillian agent quickly described many of the things that she had received thus far. She knew that she would probably receive more information, so all of this was tentative. She stopped speaking and quickly looked back toward Javvid. "I must tell you that I am hoping that we will be able to bring at least one more person into our conversation, but I am afraid that they will not join alone, but they definitely know several people that can help us with this. Javvid face wrinkled slightly as he thought about who she was talking of. "I apologize, but you will have to tell me who you want to try to find." The agent smiled." I am talking of a Ms. Priscilla Keynes, Angel of Wodensgardd. I also have a pretty good idea where she may be." The agent then slid a photo to Javvid that showed a woman in front of a building that could only be in the city of Parosh.

[Uan aa Boa]

Professor Nathanial Ko addresses the Science and Technology Panel
So... a few preliminary points on collaborative AI research. Some of our fellow delegates seem greatly concerned about intellectual property and anticipate that their partners from socialist nations might not fully respect it. I don't deny that it's a novel concept to us in Uan aa Boa and one yet to be addressed by our legal system, but in essence the position is simple. Any knowledge possessed by an individual or agency falling under the Boani jurisdiction is the knowledge of the People, acting through the instrument of the Party. All individuals and agencies should be viewed as instruments of the People in the same way. Would we distribute this knowledge in ways that might harm the commercial interests of our partners, as perhaps happened in the Malarial War? The case is different. One can feed and vaccinate another country's poor, one cannot so readily give them an advanced computing system. Our interest is primarily in economic planning - while we would certainly consider assisting those who wish to plan their economy we are not blind to the fact that a system that can manage a nation can manage a war, and we would not give technology away to those we do not trust.

The position is fundamentally one of national sovereignty. My more politically inclined comrades are weary of criticism of our weapons programmes and certain of our social policies. We seek only to be able to order our affairs as we choose without interference, and reciprocally we will not seek to determine the use to which the fruits of our collective labours are put by our partners. There will of course be a continuation of speeches and publications denouncing the capitalist model and urging the workers of the world to take appropriate corrective action, but these will remain in general terms that do not impinge on the work of scientists.

Regarding AIs themselves, Uan aa Boa would in principle be ready to recognise them as comrades and citizens. No such entities yet exist within our borders, but I have met and spoken with them here in Caracasus and have no doubts about their feasibility. Indeed if such an AI were to seek immigration status I do not foresee a legal obstacle, although I will return shortly to some societal concerns.

We have no interest in transhumanism. If a human's brain were to be destroyed and, at the same time, an AI created which resembled them in character and memory, nothing helpful would have happened. An elaborate suicide would have been committed, and a computer created with unnecessarily restrictive design parameters likely to limit its usefulness. No other interpretation accords with a philosophy of strict materialism.

We pursue AI technology as a means to improve society, to overcome the limitations in planning capacity that constrained the socialist states of the 20th century. If this leads to entities that, as a by-product, require to be accorded the status of comrade and citizen then so be it - we do not seek to create sapience or sentience for their own sake; indeed, the Party has some philosophical reservations concerning the attendant fetishising of the individual.

There are some doubts concerning how a sentient AI would relate to a society underpinned by a labour theory of value. Such an entity would accomplish in a fraction of a second work that would take a human many months. Does this confer on the products of AI an incalculable value, or a negligible one? To put the problem in simplistic terms, if we are to be guided by the maxim "from each according to ability, to each according to need" ..., well then, an AI has enormous ability and minimal need. Does this not return it to the status of tool or, if it is truly sapient, the status of slave? Would such an entity choose to be a part of the proletariat that is our only class? Or would it conclude that its interests lay elsewhere? I do not know.

I do know, however, that such political rambling and philosophical speculation is best left to others, and I am truly eager to unite with our comrades across Forest in more fruitful technical collaborations.

[Caracasus]

Science and Technology Panel

“Thank you, Dr Ko for your invaluable insight and questions.”

The screen flickered slightly, displaying a distinctly androgynous figure. It inclined its head towards the doctor, and a remarkably human expression crossed its face.

“I speak for my fellows when I state that I am gladdened to hear that your nation considers, in principle, AI to be citizens and comrades. The AI All Sixes residing in the Bashir class dreadnought Mathon currently at harbor in Aa reports that your cities are – and I quote – quite beautiful. Coming from All Sixes, that is a compliment indeed. I imagine that such nations that box and restrict their AI may soon learn the same lesson that the ex-colonial masters of Boa learned. Where your people fought with rifle and cane knife, ours will fight with virus and GPS systems.”

There was no point where the AI voice changed tone, yet a shiver still ran across the room.

“As for your other questions and comments. I ask you, what do we mean by need? If we were to take the most basic requirements for an AI to survive these would be dedicated computer runtime and electricity. If we applied that same logic to humans, then Boans would dress in grey jumpsuits and eat nutrient paste, retiring at night to concrete cubicles. Need represents much more than basic requirements.”

The avatar glanced around the room. “It is true that an AI can continue to work and function without sleep, how to explain this? As our human comrades require time to complete leisure activities and build social bonds we require surplus processing power to achieve similar aims. While our idea of enjoyment may be vastly alien to most of you, we do have a concept of enjoyment, of happiness, sadness...”

The AI onscreen held up a file of papers – shuffled them. A visual that it had incorporated for unspecified reasons. They seldom attempted to make themselves appear human for the sake of humans. Indeed several refused to project avatars at all, or chose scenes more or less like screensavers. Forests, mountains or the night sky.

“As for our contributions... well, those are numerous. As you pointed out, the ability of the Caracasusian states to manage a planned economy has been improved immeasurably by our creation. The weapons systems of our ships and planes are all but under control of AI. In modern warfare, the AI can select targets and intercept incoming missiles and shells faster than any human. We do, of course, have our weaknesses. In warfare, human commanders make better strategists. Too many variables exist on the battlefield for us to adequately predict all of them. Humans are also better at understanding other humans. An AI in charge of distribution and manufacture would not be able to spot a new trend or unexpected rise in popularity. We are made better by our comrades, human or AI.”

“As for transhumanism? The transferral of consciousness from a body to a machine is decades away – perhaps centuries. We were created by accident, the scientists working on the first generation AI had no idea that was what they were making. As a result, while we are of course sapient, we are... different from human consciousness. I would leave the nature of the soul and what makes a person to those more knowledgeable in the field than myself.”

The AI blinked and faded slightly into the background. A Caracasusian representative took the stage.

“Uh.. thank you to Fourth Law of Robotics for their contributions to the discussion. For my part.. uh, as I am sure you know I represent one of the branches of the Hypothetical Zone. I would like to second Dr Ko's proposal that for... uh, countries contributing to the joint research ventures, provisions can be made so that copyright is respected internationally. Caracasus has some provisions and previous cases to draw upon. The creation of the Midas array and the subsequent accord of Tarbad for instance that forbade the export of extracted gold for international markets. While not quite on the scale we are envisioning for the joint research ventures....”

“One result from Caracasusian governmental discussions remains. While we are willing to make compromises in this area, we must ask that our capitalist partners make concessions. We plan to incorporate a significant amount of research time to biomedical research, as well as what has been termed low-tech engineering. That is, to say, ways of improving the standard of living in countries and areas with little or no access to amenities we take for granted. We would.. uh, ask that patented technology in these areas to be developed, exported and shared without profit. Given the advancements that our joint ventures will likely develop, this seems a small price to pay. Indeed, I understand that many of the biomedical firms expressing an interest in the joint ventures already enact several similar policies.”

Salt Spray and Weeds commune

“Absolutely not” Javvid slid the photograph across the table and folded his arms. The agent looked puzzled, a flicker of uncertainty shifting across her face. Javvid, once upon a time, might have relented. Allowed some leinancy to creep in. In this instance however, he leaned forwards, uncrossing his arms and placing his elbows firmly on the table. Hands gesticulating and speaking in a rapid pace.

“Listen, Keynes is... how can I put this in any way politely? She's utterly unpredictable. I don't care if she's practically got a cult following over there, I'm not having her on any mission I am part of.”

The woman rallied, magnificently given Javvid's insistence. “Your history isn't exactly spotless though, is it?”

“Hah! Exactly, so trust me on this – I know what I am talking about. You see, and given that you requested for me by name I know you probably know more about me than I can remember, the difference between me and Keynes is that I was trained for this sort of thing. I was trained to be a professional nuisance, part time assassin and full time thwarter of those who work against our slightly glorious and utterly insane – for want of a better word – country. Keynes got lucky, and got violent very quickly. Secondly, she exhibits polarised thinking. There's no real nuance there with her judgements and actions. Something is either good or it is not – and she will never hesitate to do what she thinks is the right thing. That is an appalling character trait for any kind of operative.”

The woman looked crestfallen. “I... I see. Well, sorry to have bothered you.”

Javvid sighed. It had been a decent enough meal, and she'd clearly come a long way. She deserved some sort of concession. “Look, I don't know exactly what you are planning, but if you change your mind about getting Keynes involved... Here's where you can find me.”

He tapped a couple of icons on his comms device before jotting down a note on a scrap of paper. After he had left, she picked up the note.

Caracasus never monitors its citizens' private meetings, of course. And every Christmas a jolly fat man visits Watersville to give out toys to good little girls and boys.

If you find Keynes, find me. I'm in.