Evensong

She did. There was a studio discussion going on between two people, probably environmental journalists drafted to cover the developments.

“...so this is a risk, but an intelligently calculated risk,” one of them was saying. He had the complexion and facial mobility of a waxwork, and wore a brown suit whose cut made Anwar wince almost as much as its colour. “Zaitsev will be getting the UN to invest money and technology in this venture. But the money and technology both come originally from UNEX. Ironic, no?”

“Absolutely. I wonder if Rafiq would still have released the technology if Zaitsev had won that no-confidence vote a few days ago?” The answering speaker looked like a TV evangelist: bouffant hair, smooth complexion, perfect teeth, expansive smile.

“I think,” said Brown Suit, “that our colleagues in the news channels would say that Rafiq knew exactly how that vote was going to go. But what about this UNEX technology?”

“Ah,” said the TV evangelist, “that’s even more interesting. There are the energy sources, of course. Rafiq’s been committing UNEX for years to making new energy sources viable.Not just those Zaitsev mentioned in his opening address: wind, tides, fusion. That’s old hat.” The evangelist sat forward, eyes greedy. “It’s those wonderful aircraft that UNEX has, the VSTOLs. Those beautiful silver planes that are so much better than everyone else’s. They use superconductors. That’s the future, right there, and Rafiq is going to let us see inside his magic shop!”

The voices droned on. Anwar got up and walked out onto Olivia’s balcony. After checking she was still within his line of sight, he turned and looked out, back towards the seafront. He could see and hear celebrations: fireworks, horns sounding, and the i-360 Tower shining its night illuminations, still bright even at midday. News travelled fast. Nothing had been signed yet, of course, but there was plenty to celebrate. A UN summit, for the first time, was about to embark on something genuinely radical and different, and it would be good for Brighton.

“It would be nice to look back on this summit,” she’d said, “and think that we helped to make it productive.”

He stayed out on her balcony for a while longer. The weather was chilly and the sea was gunmetal blue, but there was some sharp pale sunlight of the kind you sometimes get in October. He would have continued to stay there, but she called to him from inside.

“Come and listen to this.”

She’d switched back to one of the main news channels. Zaitsev was being interviewed by a well-known current-affairs journalist. She looked like a politician’s mistress: young enough to be jailbait, pneumatic enough to be a scaled-up Barbie. Amanda Mapplethorpe, said the badge that had carried her smiling through several layers of security.

“Yes, we made good progress this morning,” Zaitsev was telling her. To say he looked pleased would have been an understatement. He looked as though he could hardly contain himself, though he kept his words and voice carefully statesmanlike. “I hope we can agree on the broad principles this afternoon and then move on to draft a Statement of Intent. We should have it ready for signing sometime tomorrow.”

Anwar and Olivia exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Tomorrow, Anwar thought. So when will they make their move? Although he knew it wouldn’t have any practical value, he closed the glass doors to her balcony and pulled the curtains. They continued watching the interview.

“So, Mr. Secretary-General,” asked Barbie, “are you satisfied the technology is reliable?”

“Oh yes, it’s all part of the UN’s long-term development programme.”

“Then why hasn’t it been made available before?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said, ‘It’s inconceivable to me that we could be on the way to making energy shortages a thing of the past, while water shortages are still a thing of the present.’” She did a passable imitation of Zaitsev’s diction and style. “So why hasn’t it been made available before?”

Zaitsev smiled indulgently. “It’s a fair point, and you’re right to raise it. The same question was asked this morning at the summit. And answered. The technology we’ll make available didn’t suddenly spring fully-formed from nowhere. The UN has been developing it carefully over years.”

“Don’t you mean UNEX?” Barbie asked, politely.

Anwar wondered if anyone without enhanced vision would have noticed the there-and-gone-again tightening on Zaitsev’s face. “Yes, UNEX. That’s where the developmental and operational work is done. And the political climate hasn’t been receptive in the past. Now, though, it’s very different. Everything has come together.”

Barbie looked skeptical, but said nothing. Zaitsev went on smoothly.

“We’ve broken the mold. We have the technology ready, and a business model to put it to work. Neither of them were available before. The technology, you’ve heard about. But the business model is the real story.”