Chapter 42: Kitchen Prep
Daria sat with her back to her desk looking out the window. She was sitting in the apartment's office. The sun was just coming up over the river beyond the Headquarters Building. She could smell the breakfast that Tom was cooking in the kitchen. It was definitely making her hungry and she wished he would finish and call her. Still, the beauty of the sunrise from 20 stories up was breathtaking.
"Daria! Come and get it!" Tom called from the kitchen.
Daria padded into the dining area, where she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She looked across at Tom, who had pulled on a robe over his pajamas. Daria was still in pajamas as well. The softness of the flannel on her skin was comforting. Tom being there was even more so.
Tom set an empty plate and a cup of hot coffee in front of Daria and set one of each down for himself as well. She could tell he had warmed the plate for her. He went back into the kitchen and brought out a large omelette on a platter, which he had already cut in two. Tom place a portion on each of their plates. Returning again from the kitchen he set a platter of waffles and a pitcher of warm syrup in the center of the table.
Daria gave Tom a half smile and deadpanned, "You know, if this whole UN thing doesn't work out you might have a future as a cook or a waiter."
Tom leaned over and kissed the top of Daria's head as he walked by on the way to his chair. "Well, I guess it all depends on whether or not the boss keeps me around."
"I hear she can be pretty demanding."
"At times," Tom replied as he sat down."So, what is on the agenda today?"
"I have a Space Committee meeting this morning. Hopefully the chair will show up this time. He has skipped two meetings so far. Like most of the voting members of this bunch he comes from a country that can't so much as launch a ball with a beeper inside. The committee is supposed to award the contract for a study of the effects of potential UN regulation of commercial activities on the Moon instead of individual countries regulating companies based in their jurisdictions."
Tom commented, "Sounds deathly dull."
Daria chuckled, "That isn't the half of it. I pulled up the chair's travel schedule. I think what he has been doing is going to each of the bidders to see who will give him the biggest kickback."
"Wouldn't that be illegal under UN law?" Tom asked.
Daria chuckled again, "That depends on how you do it. If they hand him a blue envelope stuffed with cash, then yes. If they hire his wife, kid, or other relatives as 'consultants' on the project - and those of a few other committee members - then technically no. Even in committee meetings I have heard some of these people say that 'so and so is an expert and should be included to provide a fill-in-the-blank perspective on this."
"Maybe they are an expert," Tom teased.
"Right. I looked up some of these people. They probably saw a shooting star when out in some village with no electricity or lights and that makes them an expert. It looks like it goes out to about third cousins. No doubt they would provide their patron with a 'thank you' gift for providing the contact.
Tom smiled and quipped, "Why Daria. If I didn't know better I would think you have become jaded in an amazingly short amount of time!"
"And you would be right," Daria responded. "The corruption is at best disheartening. I admit that I had some small hope of finding that these people were actually working for the good of humanity. Instead what I am finding is that they are far more interested in lining their own pockets and those of their vassals. I am even more concerned about what may come out of this committee. There are already proposals for 'concessions' in various areas on the table."
"You mean UN designated monopolies," Tom stated in earnest.
"Precisely."
"That could really make a mess. Without competition there will be no downward price pressure. Not to mention what happens if the concessionaire is incompetent."
"Even more concerning is that you have two questions - Who controls the selection process? and Who controls the winners? Especially if the concessions are handed to state controlled companies, then things like minerals will not really be in a market. Rather the first fruits of the operations - both financial and material will - go to the controlling government and their lackeys. Only the remainder will enter the market and be available for others to acquire."
"Hmm," Tom mused. "What do you want to bet that the depletion tax the UN is talking about will only be collected on the remainder and not what was first skimmed off the top by the governments controlling the companies with concessions?"
"You are getting as jaded as I am, Tom. It is worse, though. In addition to avoiding taxation on the first portion of the materials, there will undoubtedly be sophisticated bribes for the committee chair and members supposedly having oversight on the concessions, and further bribes for the UN civil servants doing the checking."
I can see the title of a book now," Tom said. "How to Get Rich by Just Turning Your Head."
"Yeah," Daria said. "We can talk all we want about UN Law, but in the end there is no real enforcement mechanism to punish corruption. The worst that can happen is that someone gets fired either by their own government or the UN. Unless the diplomat's government is willing to prosecute corruption of the person at the UN, the UN itself has no real power. Worst case scenario: you get fired and are off the gravy train. That is probably going to happen anyway for many of these people once there is regime change or an election in their country doesn't go their way."
"So, ethics are out the window."
Daria chuckled, "Most of these people wouldn't know an ethic if it bit them in the butt."
Tom nodded his head in agreement. "What I have been seeing is that no one seems to want to leave the compound here, unless they are going to the airport. They use the shopping services for every little thing. It is as if they simply wouldn't soil themselves setting foot on the streets of New York."
"Gee," Daria deadpanned. "Why leave the safety of a beautiful garden with gleaming glass towers and pretty buildings? Let the servants do that and you can focus on the cocktail parties and fattening your secret bank account."
"Which reminds me," Tom said picking up a card he had set next to his place. "You have an ambassadors only reception at the Secretary General's penthouse tonight. It starts at 9:00 pm with a buffet starting at 10. The invitation states: Formal attire with medals."
Daria reached deep into her past and resurrected one of her sister Quinn's best whines, "Do I have to?"
"Yes you do," Tom stated with a clear sound of parental authority. "You have to and you have to be nice to the people there. If you play your cards right you can be in bed by midnight."
In a normal voice Daria said, "Good. I really loathe the fact that in so many of these countries they don't begin social events until it is nearly my bedtime."
Tom nodded and reminded Daria, "Even though it is almost endless fun being an ambassador, nevertheless it sometimes is a job!"
"Yeah," Daria deadpanned. "And I get to do it. Pass some more syrup please."
42.2
Tom had escorted Daria to the lobby of the central apartment building. There they parted as she was allowed into the private elevator to the Secretary General's penthouse by UN security. The officers were in the dress uniforms of UN forces.
Heads turned as Daria entered the penthouse, was announced, and shook hands with the Secretary General and his wife. Daria had never considered herself beautiful. She would rather be noticed for her intelligence than any physical beauty. Still, she had to admit to herself that even though she was now in her later 60's she had a good figure. All the required exercise on Mars had its benefits. She had also learned a thing or two from her sister on how to dress. She made certain that she had all the right undergarments, high neckline, long sleeves on the long evening gown, and that everything fit perfectly. This afternoon she had her hair cut and made certain that her now gray hair was just the right shade of gray and that it had life. The cut reminded her of how Jane used to cut her hair - a chop cut. Together the red evening gown, blue martian pearl triple necklace and matching earrings, gray hair and shoes made her the image of Mars. It didn't hurt that the figure in the dress could wear this dress! Quinn would have been proud of her.
As they shook hands the Secretary General and he said to her, "You look lovely this evening, ambassador. I hope we can speak privately sometime this evening. I have something important to ask you."
"Why certainly," Daria replied. "Maybe once everyone has arrived."
"Very well. I will see you soon."
Moving past the Secretary General, Daria took a glass of Dom Perignon champagne proffered to her by a waiter and moved toward the hors d'oeuvres table. Her immediate thought was, 'The first misogynistic creep that grabs my rear end is going to go home with a broken arm. Diplomatic incident or not. I wish Tom was here.'
Daria spent the next hour making small talk with various ambassadors from Asia. Being one of the very few women in the room she seemed to attract an entourage at each of these parties. At least with Tom present she had someone to stand guard. Judging by previous parties at various missions, Daria estimated she had another 30 minutes to an hour before anyone was drunk enough to start trying to hit on her.
The buffet was sumptuous. Caviar was plentiful. Indeed there were four kinds! At least the ambassadors didn't have to go without their caviar! How horrible that would be! She had to admit the deviled quail eggs were quite imaginative. The roast beef absolutely melted in her mouth. She selected a few other things from the buffet as well. Daria took her plate over to a table covered in a fine linen tablecloth set with sterling silver utensils and sat down. Her first thought after sitting down amused her, 'I hope none of these people steal the silverware!'
There were three other ambassadors who joined her. The Palestinian ambassador, whose organization's status as observer would in not too many years reach a century, the ambassador from Barbados and the ambassador from the Marshall Islands. Together they had a deathly dull and predictable discussion about the Law of the Sea and how that should influence any upcoming negotiations about a new treaty covering space and spacefaring. Not surprisingly, the ambassadors wanted any treaty to include increased access to space for small nations at the expense of large nations and that lesser developed nations needed equal representation on any regulatory body. None of the other ambassadors left any room for Daria to say anything and by the time she finished what was on her plate she was contemplating how she might immolate herself using her butter knife.
Daria excused herself and left the table. Certainly it had been long enough that a trip to the ladies room was not out of order. As she moved across the room she felt someone grab her arm. She swung around and faced the Secretary General.
"Ambassador Sloane," the Secretary General said. "May I speak with you a moment."
"Certainly," Daria replied.
"Come into my office, please," he said.
Daria followed him to his home office. The 'vestibule' area where the party was being held was certainly larger than most wedding venues she had seen. His office made hers look like a tiny pantry. She guessed it was at least 50 square meters (~570 square feet), had a fireplace, beautiful antiques, and Persian rugs. He motioned her to have a seat in a fine leather chair. He sat down across from her on an equally fine leather couch.
"Ambassador, I would like to invite you to speak at the opening session of the General Assembly this year. You are our newest organization to be represented here and I think it is worth having the leaders of this world hear your perspective on issues affecting this world. I know the head of your organization is not able to attend, so I am inviting you to speak."
Before answering, Daria noted the Secretary General's careful choice of words. He said 'organization' not 'government,' since so many UN members still did not recognize Mars as an independent state or as having a government. It was a political miracle that Mars even had observer status. "Why thank you Mr. Secretary General," Daria said. "Of course, I am honored to accept and speak on behalf of the people and government of Mars."
"I realize that this is short notice, but if you could forward your speech to my secretary by the end of this coming week I would appreciate it. That way it can be translated and included in everyone's packet."
"I will certainly do my best."
"Wonderful! Now let us get back to the party."
The two walked back through the office door and rejoined the party. Daria stayed for another hour and then quietly slipped out. She called Tom from the lobby and he walked with her back to their apartment.
42.3
The sun was up and to get the day started Daria added sugar and cream to her coffee and to Tom's. She brought both mugs out of the kitchen and gave Tom his mug. She sat down with her mug in the living room chair facing Tom.
"Ok, Tom," Daria stated in a rare highly animated fashion. "What do you think about this opening for my speech: 'People of Earth! I bring you greetings from Mars. We come in peace!"
Tom looked over his coffee mug and replied in an imitation of Daria's deadpan voice, "Is that before or after they stop laughing. You know it has that certain, oh, B-Sci Fi vibe to it."
"Darn," Daria responded. She deadpanned, "I always wanted to start a speech with that line."
"I think you can do better. Weren't you an English professor once?"
"In a previous life before breaking the bonds of Earth."
"See, Daria. It is those arcane literary references that give your speech such life!"
"And if you know English literature you might well get it. Unfortunately, in case you hadn't noticed, we English speakers are a minority here. Even though the proceedings and meetings are mostly in English it is still not the native language of most of these people. They do well to read a news site much less literature, though there are a few exceptions."
Tom nodded. "And with the advanced instantaneous translation systems people can hear meetings and assemblies in their native language in your voice! I still remember when they employed many translators and not just software."
"Fogey," Daria said playfully.
Putting his hand on his heart Tom stood and stated very theatrically, "Please ambassador. I take offense! I would much rather be referred to as a 'codger.' Better yet a 'geezer!' These are so much less pejorative."
Daria rolled her eyes, "How about 'Old Fart.' Is that sufficiently descriptive?"
Tom went on, "There is no fart like an old fart!"
"Very well," Daria said. "Now help me with this opening."
"How about stealing from one of the best?" Tom suggested. "You can look up the address to a joint session of the U.S. Congress by Neil Armstrong. Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins on the accomplishments of Apollo 11."
"Interesting idea," Daria mused aloud. "I'll read it and see what I think. What was the date?"
Tom replied, "September 16, 1969. You might also want to look at the speech President Johnson gave at the signing of the Space Treaty on January 27, 1967."
Looking over the top of her glasses Daria asked in her deadpan voice, "I am shocked. How do you know all this stuff?"
"Simple," Tom stated. "Once I had a hunch that this speech was coming up I started looking for material you might be able to use. I have more if you want it."
"Did you draft a speech already?"
"No. I know you like to prepare your own lecture materials. So, I have references for you to look at, but I did not draft a speech for you. It would have been a waste of my time."
"Smart boy," Daria replied. "Would you please send me the file?"
Tom lifted his phone and sent the file to Daria.
"Thanks Tom. This is really helpful. It is my first political speech. I do want you to read and critique it once I have written it. Also, you will need to help me with delivery. Not every speech can sound like a lecture."
Tom chuckled, "I don't know. I think many of these people could use a good lecture. A stern lecture on ethics. If you were to slam the drawer of a till around here you would crush at least a dozen hands!"
Daria couldn't help but laugh at Tom's analogy. "Too bad there aren't real tills anymore, at least not here in the UN compound. They were probably deemed to be too dangerous."
Tom laughed at Daria's retort. "All too true. Anyway, I will help however I can."
Daria looked at the clock. "We can talk more tonight. I have a committee meeting in an hour, so I better get dressed. I have blocked out three hours this afternoon to work on this speech." She got up from the sofa and walked back into the bedroom.