The East PacificBoard

Metternich made a face at the television screen as he watched the speech in the Humanist State. "What a waste of power." The Chief Director was seated in a private room of the Public Affairs main office, a short walk away from his own seat of power. He wore warm tan dress pants and a green wool sweater. His long brown coat was hanging at the door of the comfortable meeting room, which sat adjacent to Director Petrushevska's office.

The Director in question was in a seat to his right, tapping his leg, a thoughtful expression on his face. He wore a boring gray suit, himself. He didn't account much for the cold of winter, being from Pryzova, himself. Typically, Director Kafka would be there, too, but he was busy with a personal project of his, and so Obrad Baran was there in his stead, leaning against the wood paneled wall, a slight smile on his face.

"Something funny?" Metternich asked him.

Baran, who was simply clothed in a turtleneck and black pants, shook his head, but said anyway, "It's just . . . You gotta admire the man."

"Do I?" the Chief Director asked imperiously.

"Well if you don't see it, then forget it," the Superintendent of Social Science replied, and fell silent.

Metternich decided not to push it while Petrushevska was in the room. Instead, he asked, "Milorad, will we be expected to say anything on this?"

The Director of Public Affairs shook his head. "I don't think so, sir. This isn't too big a deal, just an annual victory lap. I doubt it'll change anything with regards to policy."

"It's strong rhetoric, though, and the Alcati in our borders may want to see us stand against it."

Petrushevska shrugged. "Actions speak louder than words. We took them in, we offered asylum, they have our protection. We're signed onto Better World. What more could they ask for?"

"Some force to balance out the hate being spewed around the world, maybe."

Another shrug. "That's Usnistan's problem, not ours."

"Baran?"

"What?"

Metternich sighed. "This is typically where Director Kafka gives his thoughts on the matter."

This time it's Obrad's turn to shrug. "I don't care either way. Like the man says, it's not our problem."

Metternich turned back to the more vocal advisor in the room. "Milorad, what are other governments doing?"

Before he could answer, Superintendent Baran interrupted. "I don't think that quite matters, Chief Director. If we want to be respected, we shouldn't be playing games of follow the leader. We should be setting examples."

"Now you have something to offer?" Metternich asked, a little annoyed.

"It's what Director Kafka would say as well, I believe."

"You're probably right." Yet again, the Chief Director turned to Milorad. "Let's consider the possibility. If we were to make a statement, what should we include?"

"Condemnation of the Humanist State in the strongest possible terms, rejection of hateful bigotry and anti-nonite rhetoric, reassertion of our values of the equality of all sapient beings."

Baran snorted.

"Do you have something to say, Superintendent?" Director Petrushevska asked, annoyed.

Metternich put a hand up. "Peace, Milorad. Obrad, keep your unhelpful ironies to yourself." He lowered his hand and leaned back. "Director Petrushevska, what effect can we expect such a statement to have?"

"Slightly higher approval ratings in the south and probably more support for our refugee program."

"I mean external effects," Metternich specifies.

"Ah. In that case, I'm not so sure. It's a toss up if the Humanists will reply, but they certainly won't be happy to deal with us in the future. Among other nations, pretty much nothing. If anything, it gives us a bit more attention on the global sphere."

"Hm," Metternich replies. "Doesn't seem worth it, does it?"

"Not particularly, sir," the Director of Public Affairs said.

"Didn't think so. What about private channels?"

A non-committal shrug. Seemingly a common response that day.

"Hm. Do we have a diplomat there?"

"No, sir, the Triglav was concerned it would be a sign that we acknowledge the state's legitimacy."

Metternich frowned. "Would it?"

"Either way, it wouldn't change their atrocities, and it certainly wouldn't stop them."

Metternich stood up. "Baran, get my coat." As the Superintendent began to compy, he told Petrushevska, "Send someone. I want to have the ability to open diplomatic channels if I need to. Don't announce it. If the press team is asked, tell them we strongly condemn discrimination against non-humans and we simply wish to have the ability to negotiate with the Sovereign."

"Dear Sovereign, sir."

Metternich barked out a laugh. "We're not going to call him that." He took his coat from Obrad Baran, slipped it on, and left the meeting room, the Superintendent of Social Science close on his heels, like a loyal dog.