The first was the always smiling Ernst Oakwood, an electrical engineer wear ing his uniform overalls as if it was a 5 thousand pounds tailored suit. He moved to Meganesia relatively recently, in his own words: "because here it is a lot more fun than in Glasgow" . Apparently, this was indeed the case, since he had to spend the last two years at home in a barred room due to the fact that some work he did on the alarm of some bank qualified by the laws of the United Kingdom for a "complicity in a burglary". He got caught purely by an accident , so no one really doubted his expertise.
The other was a tall, athletic Sikh (not to be confused with a Hindu, or else he would be offended), with a deceptively dreamy expression on his face. His name was Lal Singh, in a past life he was a lieutenant of the Meganesian Rapid Reaction Corps. Two years ago, during an operation in the Emirate of Al-Shana, a piece of mine shrapnel got in to his knee, putting an end to his military career. He could live on a pension insurance, but that was boring. He tried to work in the police , which proved to be boring as well , and perhaps because of that his reports appeared to resemble literary miniatures. Soon, nudged by his colleagues, he tried his luck in a journalism contest , which ended up with him getting the position of a military observer with “Pacific social news”.
At the moment, these three were outnoising the TV, and it was absolutely impossible to understand what was happening on the screen.
The couple at the central table, on the contrary, was ignoring the foreign policy on principle. They played international draughts and considered th at to be much more meaningful than any talk show. However, this was the only thing common between them, and every thing else was in ultimate contrast. Vikskef Engvarstrom, a criminal news reporter, was a typical Norwegian, fair-haired, gray-eyed, almost two meters tall. Chez Joey of the science news department was tiny and of unclear ethnicity. She could equally well pass for a Malay, Chinese, Spanish, Latin , or a North African native. The knowledge of five languages and a natural talent for the most reckless flirtation allowed her to ingratiate herself to anyone, and the two academic degrees of hers, in physics and philology, allowed her to make good use of any information so obtained.
At a table in the corner sat Zhang Zhang. He was the one Sekar went to, knowing from experience that this Chinese has a remarkable talent to notice everything that happens and to express it clearly. He was of an uncertain age, somewhere between 50 and 60. Actually, everything in his biography was uncertain. He arrived to Meganesia (more precisely, still British Oceania back then) two years before the Aluminum revolution, as they say, for ideological reasons, was directly involved in mine warfare against the colonial administration Tintung island, and then he was a sergeant of mercenaries during the suppression of the Batak coup. However, these were rumors, and Zhang answered questions about his past with meaningful quotes from Lao Tzu ("One who talks a lot — often fails" or "Who knows — doesn’t tell, who tells — doesn’t know"). Presently, he led the environmental department, but people came from all floors for consultations on all matters, from stock prices to cat treatments.
— Noisy — stated Zhang , smiled , and poured the colleague half a cup of flower tea.
— Yeah — agreed Sekar — what is happening?
The Chinese shrugged.
— A woman.
He was clearly referring to Atairoa, who, like a typical young islander, could work up any number of men within seven feet from her.
— I meant: what’s on TV? — clarified Sekar.
— Coordinator Torres is in Montreal, fighting off a pack of dogs — said Zhang succinctly.
— For how long?
— About 27 minutes.
— Oh, that ... did they bite him badly?
— Not really. They are stupid. Interfere with each other.
— And why is this nervous old man with canary-yellow tie shaking his pen?
— He’s some kind of a lawyer from the Sorbonne. I think it's his way of conducting public appearances. He argues that the current Meganesian system of equal social land rights came to pass in an uncivilized way.
— Is he succeeding?
Zhang smiled and shook his head.
— He stumbled on the question of the bases of private property rights on these lands. He tried to derive these rights from the announcement of trans-Malaysian islands as a British crown possession and their transfer to the East Indian Company, but he forgot that utafoa already lived there for a thousand years. Torres explained that the aluminum Revolution restored utafoa law on the equal rights of all citizens to the lands and fishing waters.
— Judging by professor’s reaction, they don’t teach that in Sorbonne — said Sekar.
Hernando Torres was about 50. The coordinator, an agile, dark -skinned man of average height with a neat belly, was dressed very informally. He wore loose gray trousers, bright Hawaiian shirt, and a scarf tied in cowboy style around his neck. The scarf displayed the Meganesian flag — black, white and yellow trefoil on an azure field. In the opinion of the revolutionary Symbolists, it meant the union of three races inhabiting the atolls, but the far from grandiloquent meganezians long ago started to refer to it simply as "our propeller".
The seasoned reporter's eye of Malik Sekar immediately spotted that Torres was not in a business of win ning the debate, and not interested in his opponents at all . He was delivering a show, work ing hard to impress the audience, while using the opponents as a backdrop.
In the meantime, a noisy trio settled down somewhat so that Sekar could hear Torres speak :
"... in a bit of a los s . Do I respond to those accus ing the Meganesian government of economic anarchism, or to those claim ing we are throttling businesses with total regulation and abusing property rights. Maybe our host could hint me as per where to start".
The show host shifted in his chair, smiled with all his 32 porcelain teeth , and said:
— You know, Mr. Torres, such hypocrisy is not new, it was invented by Goebbels long ago. That is, the shopkeepers are free to sell beer, but the land and bowels belong to the German nation, which is above all else, that is, to the Reich, because the Reich is the nation...
— Wait a minute — interrupted the coordinator — in Meganesia there is no Reich, and the stuff you mentioned belongs to the nation directly, without intermediaries.
“The Communists in Russia said the same”, shouted someone from the audience, “everything, they said, belongs to the people, and even a cook can run the state. Actually, the people were poor and powerless, and everything belonged to the only ruling party allowed".
— I have to admit — Torres threw up his hands — that Meganesia neither a cook nor anyone else can run the state, and nothing can belong to a party. Both state and parties are banned by Magna Carta. Thus the land, bowels , and waters are owned by the citizens directly. Each resident owns an equal share, which he can use personally or pass to someone else.