Desert of Man

Writing. Culture. Politics. Wandering.

Letters – I’m not a happy person

Hey old man,

just so you know, I’m not a happy person. At least not here, not today. I should never have accepted this assignment. Not only did they send me here on the slowest transport in the entire universe, they sent me to a place filled with politicians. I understand now why you were so keen on trading assignments, I should have known I guess.

I’m sure you’ll be reading the official interim reports, gloating over my frustration and lack of accomplishments. But I am also quite sure you know full well that this particular assignment was a doomed one from the start. Reporting on the specifics of the discussions between diplomats and politicians from our friendly polities where nothing ever really happens. Right.

At least I have decent quarters. Something you on the other hand can probably only dream of, considering that the assigment I traded you has taken you right down into the mud of a planet nobody would voluntarily visit … I have choice of quite excellent food, not stuck with standard chunky rations. And yeah, mud is something I have only encountered here during one of my visits to a really pleasant spa. So I guess the trade wasn’t all that bad was it?

Hey, look on the bright side. You get to test the new biomemetic armour there. Toys to play with. I can’t imagine you in a meatsuit though, if I were any of the techs present I’d be constantly worried about you eating it … fancy as it may be, all that biomemetic technology comes down to is custom grown meat and skin. Actually, I may have just thought of a new nickname for you. Heh. No matter how indestructible and advanced, that stuff really is just a sack of skin, with you in it. Hehe. You’ll see ..

Anyhow, I thought I’d send you a quick word on something that did pop up here. It is included in my report, but as you always have your own tentacles in places I can never find out about I thought I’d bring it to your attention so you could perhaps ask around a bit. Boring as politicians are, tedious as their conversations are (they really never say anything directly meaningful do they) they do make themselves extremely visible. So it struck me that some are simply absent. Now I could imagine that considering circumstances it would not be completely surprising to see only a barebone delegation from the Republic. I cannot imagine however that there would not be a Nassavi Envoy here.

Exactly. No Envoy. No Agent. Curious even more, not a single Nassavi ship is docked here. I asked around, and it turns out that they all left just a day prior to the start of this conference. Curious isn’t it? Now I did point that out explicitly in my report, problem is nobody here has any idea on why. Worse, nobody is even interested in it. Without any further information, those observations are just going to get filtered out of what is expected to be a boring administrative report anyway, as it floats upstairs. At best.

Now I know what you’re going to say. But no, I’m not paranoid. Think about it. This conference is one where all of the Nine polities are present. That is how it is presented. That is how it is organised. The upheaval over the presence of a Republic delegation was nearly enough to prevent this conference from happening in the first place. Now I see that in spite of all the bridges built, money and positions changing hands and all the speeches and grandeur there is no Republic delegation. Not a stripped down team of diplomats, there is no delegation. And the same with the Nassavi, who are the biggest sponsor of these talks. The ones who forced the hands of quite a few other delegations to accept a Republic presence. No Nassavi present, they never even showed up, and their usual presence of traders and ships ran off right before things began.

So here it is. A conference to decide on the carving up of the territories. Something two bloody wars were fought over. The last one giving way to the formation of the Republic, a war which very nearly became a conflagration setting fire to us all. If anyone has a vested interest in the proceedings of this conference it is the Republic. And we both know that the Nassavi will never spend so much money without being able to guarantee an outcome serving their goals.

My report is either going to get tossed out as paranoia from an upstart officer led astray by too much wine at what is considered one of the probably longest and most boring conferences of the decade. Or it’s simply going to get stripped of observations. One of the two.

So maybe you can use those ears of yours, perhaps you can find out more from the outside than me here stuck holding hands with people who’s job it is to say nothing with as many words possible. I know, by the time you get this message you should be stuck in the mud for another week. But after that you will be back at HQ though, while I will still be here for another month. No I am not going to bribe you or trade favours for this. You know me, when my gut tells me something is wrong it’s right more often than not. I can’t put the finger on it, it just rubs the wrong way.

Keep things out of the official dispatches though. By the time you can find stuff, if anything, I’m sure people will already have made up their minds and drawn their conclusions on that silly interim report from yours truly. Best to keep things between us, at least for now. If my gut turns out to be smarter than my brain again, I’m going to need someone at HQ not stained by opinionated convictions.

Wish me luck, and don’t let those old bones of yours get too cramped up down in the mud there! Be a sweet sausage 🙂



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This entry was posted on June 12, 2013 by in Muse, Write and tagged , , , , .
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