The day she received her confirmation was also the first day of winter. She spent that early morning ruminating, and when she came out from her apartment the sky was the colour of sandcast lead; and there was a cold wind blowing from the north with bouts of speckling rain. She fastened her overcoat and put her folder inside its underside pocket to keep the rain off her important papers for the day. She walked on in a bleak mood—one glum beltway insider amid the driving rain, her shoes splashing along the puddled, dirty footpath.
Gretel wondered what the Empire of New Edom would be like. New Edom was a nation like any other, in principle; it was simply a stable community of people, formed on the basis of a common economic life and territory. But in practice the Empire of New Edom was a historically fractured collection of people and territories governed by a new regime—and only recently united. For much of its recent life, New Edom was a fractured land of many competing factions. Some had embraced trade with the Realm of Yohannes, while others had not. At the centre of this vulnerable bilateral relationship, for nearly eight years, had been the Yohannesian Consulate-General in Fineberg.
New Edom was more united than Gretel thought. Last night she watched the latest The Realm News headlines from beyond the International Incidents, and learnt that New Edom was now ruled by a king-emperor who had united the once fractured realm. Her spirits lifted at the thought of working in a functioning country.
A cold wind whipped across the open park, freezing her face as she crossed the open ground leading to the Office of Embassy and Consulate Programme on the Quay Building. The backdoor was closed very tightly this morning. Someone must be working hard again last night, she realised. In the private corridor leading to her office she came across a sliding table with a pile of letters—not a very good sign for Gretel. The security guard was bent down in front of her office door.
Gretel asked: “Good early morning, Zhong—what’s happening here?”
The security guard straightened up, and Gretel gave him his coffee. “Four hundred Quertz.”
“O-o-o. Morning, Miss Gretel!” Zhong said enthusiastically in broken
Yohannesian. “How come so cheap?”
“So cheap? No, no, Zhong. It’s because I’m their favourite customer—and well, they know who I am.”
Zhong nodded. “Well, Miss Gretel should buy as many coffee from good seller then because they will not see you round no more Miss, soon.”
This was further bad news. “What’s wrong with the door?”
“I had to clean it real good Miss, because the big boss will come round here today to brief you on the essential details. Your departure and posting to the Fineberg Consulate-General, yes?”
She knew the answer—old doors are rarely cleaned so thoroughly around this time unless the Ministers and Parliamentary Under-Secretaries are coming to town. One of the security guards’ jobs was often to do the jobs of the cleaners to ensure that everything would be spotless when the head honchos arrived. Normally they’d be lazy enough to say no. But Zhong was a hard-working immigrant with the right attitude, and that was why he was one of her favourites.
Gretel nodded at Zhong’s answer. “Did they pay you extra?”
“Yes. Hard work. Extra money. Good boss.”
“That’s my man”, Gretel said neutrally. “What’s the story with these letters?”
“Now, they’re extra reading material for you, Miss. Your secretary told me to put them there for you to pick up this morning.”
Of course, Gretel thought. She had heard of the escalating crisis in Fineberg, which had been a particularly big one even for New Edom. She had never seen anything like it since the Empire of Greater Nifon’s expansion and ideological declaration to the international community last year—and this time, Homofront was the culprit too.
Raising her voice above the sound of the rain outside, Gretel said: “It’s been good to have you around here, Zhong. You’re a hard worker, and I hope that Immigration will approve your permanent residency application next month. Will you miss me as your boss?”
Zhong smiled. “And I hope that you will have a great time working in New Edom.”
He added: “The Fineberg Consulate-General will be delighted to have such a nice boss as their new Head of Mission. I’m sure you will have a great time working there, Miss.”
Gretel was unsure about that. She knew why she was promoted. The old Consul-General had resigned to avoid facing this difficult situation. When the going was good seven years ago, he took the credit in cementing relations with New Edom—and now, he would cash out early to avoid the hard times ahead. Last night, she had seen the eighteenth
Yohannesian Emperor’s guarded speech, made in response to the brutal crackdown on lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender protesters by New Edomite government forces. This morning, she learnt that the Empire of Greater Nifon—a very important Yohannesian trading partner—had pledged to protect New Edom from “foreign military presence within the region.” That was the end, she decided.
“Yohannesian trade and investment in New Edom is now safe thanks to Greater Nifon—isn’t it great?”
“This morning, I’m proud to be a non-Occidental”, Zhong replied.
Gretel nodded and turned to Zhong. “You’ll find that I’m no fan of the Santiago Anti-Communist Treaty Organisation. But their members, and those they’re involved with—Greater Nifon, Greater Carloso, Khataiy, Inyoursta, McNernia—they’ve done great things.”
Zhong said briskly: “They’ve proven that non-Occidental nation-states can be great powers too, I know Miss.”
“And Allanea becoming much more threatening”, said Gretel, shaking her head. “The old order is well and truly gone. And the new will soon replace them. We now have a decentralised situation beyond the International Incidents. A far cry from the 2009 days—eleven years ago, we would not have expected all this.”
Zhong finished it: “But the Realm of Yohannes is still here.”
Gretel said: “Why the Nineteen Countries, then?”
Zhong pretended to think he was being asked about his opinion on the Realm of Yohannes’ situation beyond the International Incidents. He said: “Our political and commercial success—not military.”
Gretel looked at him with irritation. “No, I meant why choose the Realm of fiords and mountain as your adopted country? What with the rise of Greater Nifon, Laeral and other non-Occidental nations—”
“Beautiful environment and good schools for my son”, Zhong said, but Gretel had already figured that out. Despite the
odds stacked against them, Asian Yohannesian families were known for raising excellent school leavers and future breadwinners.
“And well—I’m a
Green voter”, Zhong chuckled.
“You’ve made the right choice by not settling in Greater Nifon, then”, said Gretel. “Or for that matter, the rest of SACTO.”
She tore her gaze away and looked out the window. The rain had turned into a torrential downpour.
“I’m afraid for the future of many social-democratic and progressive movements out there.”