Countries fill the long conference room as they do every month, but the atmosphere is completely different from its usual. Instead of the boisterous banter, the room murmurs with subdued whispers. Everyone has dropped silent and is staring at the two figures at the front of the room long before the meeting is due to begin.
In a world where countries can exist for a century and age a year, Sealand looks ancient. His hair is gray and his skin is specked and wrinkled, but he still has lean, sinewy muscles and an upright stance, and his eyes are still bright and usually filled with innocent joy. Today they are not. He wears a military uniform of the type once worn around the world, but in a sky blue that matches his cap.
Lichtenstein is even older, and not as strong. She wears the jacket exactly like one once worn by the man who was her brother in spirit if not in blood, and a green skirt underneath; today she is wearing the original ribbon he gave her, the one she only takes out on very important occasions. It clashes horribly with her outfit, but lends her a dignity all the same because of its symbolism.
Despite the fact that most of the nations at the table consider them mother and father, and the general consensus is that "THEY'RE TOTALLY SCREWING!" the glance they share is simply one of two old friends who have seen a lot, perhaps too much, of the world together. (Nobody knows why most nations are so obsessed with love. Possibly because it's a big world, and it's nice to feel there's at least one country you can trust for sure. Even when that's not true.) They're more sober than usual today, and with good reason.
Sealand usually takes a childish pleasure in ringing a huge gong that sits at the head of the table to start the meetings, but today his heart is clearly not in it. He gives it a tap merely as a formality, and everyone wonders why he bothers, since he has the attention of the room already.
He tries to start his speech several times, but can't get the words out. Eventually he hands his notes to Lichtenstein, who begins to talk, muddling through his messy handwriting.
"Ahem… well, as most of you know, there's a large meteor on a collision course with Earth. A collision would be almost certainly deadly." Almost everyone present does in fact know this, but it sends a murmur through the crowd anyway. Only one country does not, and her reaction leaves much to be desired.
"A meteor crashing into earth? Um, wouldn't that kind of hurt?" asks Atlantis.
Everyone groans. Atlantis stretches along the entire northern coast of the Mediterranean Sea, from what was once Turkey on the east to Spain on the west. In most places she has only a thin strip of land, but she has the entirety of both Italy and Greece and she shows it.
Both Sealand and Lichtenstein delight in finding traces of their ancestors in the new countries; it makes them feel as though their friends were still alive, just a little. Atlantis is dreamy, flighty, and usually completely clueless; she has wavy brown hair resting around her shoulders, and wide grey eyes. Atlantis' main industry is tourism, and people come from around the globe to visit her beaches and sail in her fleets of yachts, cruise ships, and sailboats. Her coast is a solid wall of alternating harbors and beaches. Many ludicrously wealthy people keep summer homes in Atlantis, but her actual population is mostly working-class people who run the hotels and shops, and starving artists who go there to paint the scenery. However, almost everyone can find some sort of work, and people are pretty happy there on the whole. Atlantis is universally well liked, but sometimes, such as now, she can just be a complete idiot.
"Atlantis, I gave you a paper about this. Please try to stay more caught up on world events; it isn't good for you to be so out of it," says Zion. He's the only country using a name that was in use at the time of the disaster, by his own request. He originally sprung from a group of synagogues in Israel who banded together to survive, and although non-Jews are technically allowed in his country, he remains overwhelmingly religious to this day. He occupies about twice the area the old Israel did, but when his population grew too large, he set up a colony in Uganda, which is where most of his people live now. His physical age is about 27, one of the oldest- he was first group to pull itself together when the storms ended. He has light brown hair and thoughtful dark brown eyes and wears a short goatee, a kippah, and a tallit. Zion is regarded as harsh and occasionally a bit of a zealot, but he's kind and very wise if you have the patience to listen to his rambling anecdotes. He definitely has a crush on Atlantis, but nobody is sure if she reciprocates. He would have a better chance if he stopped trying to convert her. He doesn't force her- he's very nice about it- but Atlantis is generally atheist and all he does is make everyone uncomfortable.
"Quiet, everyone, please. Persia, please bring Atlantis up to speed." Persia, who is rumored to be crushing on Atlantis as well, pulls her off into a corner and they begin to whisper. Zion glowers; he and Persia usually get along fairly well-they argue a lot about religion and science, which Zion believes are entirely compatible but Persia does not, but they enjoy their debates and are actually beginning to be able to see the other's point of view. Atlantis is a sore spot between them, though- they both believe the other is going to corrupt her. As Persia talks, Atlantis looks steadily more horrified, but somehow he manages to keep her from disrupting the meeting.
"Anyway, many suggestions have been made to deal with the meteor, but all of them are virtually impossible or just as risky as the meteor itself." Ignoring Atlantis' restraining hand on his shoulder, Persia leaps to his feet, gesticulating wildly and explaining for the seven millionth time why his plan would work.
Persia covers India, Pakistan, a bit of southern China, and a bit of Iran and Afghanistan. He's a 21-year old Middle Eastern man in glasses, whose outfit is an amazing juxtaposition of a delicately woven robe of glowing colors and a light blue dress shirt. Somehow he pulls it off. He's extremely smart, but useless with small talk and has a chip on his shoulder about his intelligence for some reason. Popular opinion is that he's just generally insecure.
Persia and Lone Star begin the same highly technical shouting match that they've been having off and on for the past few months. It runs somewhat along the lines of "safely shattered by missiles" and "dangerous chunks and dust clouds" and "proper explosives" and "launch risks" and "I can do whatever I like with my space program" and "not when you're endangering the entire world, you idiot" and "shut up" and "it takes one to know one".
Lone Star takes up most of the southern United States, Cuba, and a thin strip of northern Mexico. She has America's glasses, his blue eyes, his golden-brown hair (although it's pulled into a high ponytail, and none of it sticks up),and his attitude. She's loud, outgoing, and although she's the shortest country around she could beat up anyone she wants in a fistfight (you do NOT make fun of her name), although she is slightly more intelligent, as evidenced by her steady stream of rocket science technicalities. She and Atlantis are best friends, and like several other countries sees it as her job to protect her. Unlike several other countries, her feelings are completely platonic. Probably.
Lichtenstein shushes the two squabblers and continues with the notes. "Don't feel pressured to follow this advice, but when I was young and the old countries were still alive… Um, Sealand, it says 'explain memory'. What's that?"
"Thanks for starting, Lichtenstein. I've got it from here." Lichtenstein hands over the paper. "All right. This happened during the Cold War-"
Sealand is rewarded with a room full of blank looks. They've been taught all about the old history, but most countries don't remember it very well. They're more concerned, as a group, with the present and the future.
Sealand sighs and facepalms. "The two biggest countries were really suspicious of each other, and either could destroy the world at any time. It was really scary," explains Lichtenstein. Everyone looks shocked. They're so used to Sealand and Lichtenstein's close friendship that they've never considered it could be another way.
"Sounds horrible-aru," says Hsing-Nu. His bearing is proud but not vain, noble but not rich. Although he occupies northern China and Russia, he is named not for either country but for the nomadic barbarians that occasionally raided China. Indeed, his part of the world never entirely rebuilt, and to this day he's still more of a loose confederation of nomads and gypsies than an actual cohesive country. As such, he's often deeply conflicted about important issues, and is the strong, silent type to begin with, so he rarely speaks. When he does, he uses China's "aru", but as an exclamation or an intensifier, not after every sentence. (With Hsing-Nu, "funny-aru" would translate to "really funny", as in "Sealand looks funny-aru in that hat.") He has a long mop of dark hair, and wears a traditional robe and a beaded necklace.
"It was," said Sealand. "Anyway, I was hanging around the World Meeting Office, as I usually did, and I overheard a conversation…"