Ernie and I stand in line outside the school’s entrance for the usual security protocols, and I notice people are more on edge today. As we clear the first checkpoint with the code from our toggles and step into the biometric facial scanner, a siren blares repetitively, red lights flashing as a warning announcement fills the air.
***SIREN SOUNDS***
THE CENTRAL INSTITUTE OF KNOWLEDGE WOULD LIKE TO REMIND STUDENTS THAT ENTRY TO ANY PREMISES WITHOUT PERMISSION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED AND MAY RESULT IN LOSS OF LIFE. OBEY THE LAW AND ACT WITH CAUTION AT ALL TIMES.
***SIREN SOUNDS***
The announcement repeats itself, drilling the message into our brains as our bags are scanned for dangerous objects and our clothes checked for traces of explosives.
It can’t be a coincidence that the school has these warnings so soon after last week’s break-in at United World. Roselyn wouldn’t have been sleeping so peacefully at home if they knew who the students were. Over the weekend, they must have discovered that Tuesday’s intruders were not terrorists, just irresponsible children.
A petite girl of Korean descent pauses mid-conversation with Marco; her dark hair tucked neatly behind one ear as she lifts a hand to give Ernie a friendly wave and a smile.
Marco is less subtle. In basketball shorts and a sleeveless top, he calls out, “Hey Ernie!”
Ernie glances up at me with the faintest look of indecision before he is drawn to join them.
“Have a great day Vic!” he calls out.
I watch him excitedly race over to his friends, no doubt eager to relive yesterday’s football experience, sharing it detail by detail. My mind, however, is still distracted by the warning announcement. If they find out that Roselyn was one of the intruders, or that our house’s meter has had a significant increase in its power capacity, will they punish our whole family?
I walk past Claudia and Jono. Claudia has her back to me, spinning around, her jacket flaring slightly as Jono’s eyes light up with recognition. He’s in a simple navy polo, well-kept, the fabric holding its shape. Jono waves to me and opens his mouth, getting out the beginning of a “hi” before Claudia cuts him off, pulling his arm back down and turning herself away again. He appears puzzled, but lets me pass by without saying a word. I guess that I’ll have to make it through the last few months without any friends. Oh well, I’m used to being on my own.
I make my way into another Resource Management class, and there’s an unexpected face sitting up the front. Mr Klein appears to be unwell today and has been replaced by Mrs Pryor. I’m surprised that she managed to find the right classroom!
She grips the edge of the desk with both hands, her cardigan buttoned unevenly, smiling broadly as she looks around the room, as if expecting the desks to greet her back. I take a seat and fish my phone out of my bag while I wait for everyone to arrive. I messaged Georgina when we got home from the football last night to see why Kage would have such a different story to hers. Still no reply. I hope nothing bad has happened to her, but I honestly have no idea who is telling the truth anymore.
I send her a quick follow-up text and decide to check my email at the same time.
Mariana has replied! Bill must have gone to a lot of effort to get her to come back to me so quickly!
Hi Victoria,
I always enjoy furthering the knowledge of deserving students when time permits.
As luck would have it, I have had a meeting cancelled on short notice this morning.
Please meet me at my office at 10am if you are still interested in interviewing me for your assignment.
Kind Regards,
Mariana Montoya
Renewable Power Director
United World – Oceania
Please consider the impact of your ecological footprint before consuming natural resources
Hmm, that would mean leaving almost immediately and missing some classes to reach United World’s headquarters by 10am. Still, it’s hard to pass up an opportunity like this, especially when it’s for the class I’d be missing! I also doubt Mrs Pryor would even register that I skipped class. Even if I miss Systems & Logic as well, I would rather skip it completely than deal with being late with Mr Ito again.
I briefly consider whether I’m becoming like my sister. No, I’ll learn more doing this than I ever would sitting in these classes. Roselyn cares more about seeking her boyfriend’s approval than wagging school for a reasonable purpose.
I stand up again, grab my bag off the desk, and look directly at Mrs Pryor.
“Thank you, Miss!” I say in an upbeat voice, aiming to avoid any awkwardness.
She beams a smile at me, flourishing a nonchalant motion of dismissal my way with the back of her left hand. That was easier than I thought!
I dodge the incoming students on my way out of the class, including my former friends. Claudia cannot help but look at me in amazement this time, the curiosity in her gaze following me down the hallway stairs. I smile to myself. She won’t know what to think. I have never skipped class before, and it will haunt her to wonder where I’m going. I do feel a bit of smug satisfaction from knowing that.
After yesterday, I have plenty of money and can finally allow myself to take a night off work to finish my assignment properly. Interview questions stream into my head one after the other:
- How does Mariana handle the responsibility of deciding the level of electricity everyone receives, especially in a growing population?
- Why is it so easy to meet demand for clean water, but power remains so limited?
- What can we do now to ensure there is still a world left to live in?
I need to prioritise my thoughts. There’s no guessing how long each question will take to answer, and I don’t want to miss out on any key information. Although, before focusing all of my attention on the interview, I need to message Kage to let him know I won’t be working tonight. Then my mind can concentrate completely on my assignment.
Noting that Georgina hasn’t replied, I send him a quick notification.
Hi Kage, I won’t be coming in to work tonight.
Before I have the time to lock my phone and put it back into my bag, he responds.
Is everything ok?
It seems a little rash of him to jump to the conclusion that something is wrong, but I assure him everything is fine.
Yes, I’m fine.
I slide the phone back into my bag, pleased to have the night off to perfect my project without the desperation of needing money right now to live.
My thoughts return to the United World interview. I wonder if I should start it off by getting Mariana to tell me about all of her great qualifications and accomplishments. It might put her in a generous mood for sharing more information during the rest of the meeting.
I move back through the same security protocols Ernie and I passed earlier and make my way toward the United World district. This is exciting!
The United World headquarters appears less threatening under a clear blue sky, the sun reflecting off the ocean by the harbour. The levels are stacked like wide building blocks, visually forming a pyramid. Thick, dark-green tinted glass covers the front and back faces of the building, allowing open views toward the city and harbour while blocking any view inside. The dark-green tint recedes with each level, giving way to a clear-tinted square higher up. The rectangular building peaks at the penthouse with a dark-green square at its centre, clear-tinted windows filling out the rest of the floor.
I cross the invisible boundary without confrontation, though I am not naive enough to believe that people aren’t watching my every move. Recent events would only have increased their level of precaution. In the daylight, I can clearly see the marble monuments that replace street signs, guiding me toward the green waterfront building where Mariana’s office resides. It’s no wonder that a terrorist threat would worry them. While the harbour offers protection from attacks and tsunamis, strong storm winds are still dangerous in shallow inlets. Why would you put your key figureheads that near the water?
The first of the sensor doors slide up as I approach the building, its shiny reflection reminding me of a horizontal guillotine. I walk inside the building, and it chops down behind me. Yes, this is certainly where the power lies. The next set of doors are more welcoming, pulling to each side for me to pass through. The complete absence of visible security only reinforces how confident they must be in their unseen protections. Even our school feels more difficult to enter!
At the base of the building, I stand in a large hall split down the centre by the famous Cassini’s meridian line. On one side of the line, there are large labels representing the current seasons of the year and smaller labels demonstrating zodiac period based off the sun’s latitude positioning. The other side is less meaningful to a casual observer. It shows the solar declination, its angle in degrees.
Centred overhead on the mezzanine, above the green door, hangs a large Antikythera mechanism that also functions as an analogue clock. Dad used to be quite proud of it, since it’s believed to have been invented by the ancient Greeks. The circular device, which tracks lunar phases and events such as eclipses, is crafted from black zirconium, with traditional bronze shaping the markings and hands on the dial. Tiny, laboratory-formed light-yellow sapphires mark the shining numbers around the clock’s perimeter. I can’t remember what they used to match the colour of the hour and minute hands, but it complements the look beautifully!
It’s difficult to see the modern-day use of solar or lunar positioning, but openly posing symbols of their wisdom may serve as a good reminder to those who doubt their right to lead. Perhaps if I had a magnifying glass, I would even see a microscopic second hand on the clock. Any organisation focused on maintaining order would usually feel the need to adhere to the conventional structure of displaying time.
The left side of the hall contains a set of permanently built stalls which could be used by a variety of food vendors, though I doubt the café and breakfast stalls change much. There are tables and chairs for dining in groups. Each table seats two people and is built into the floor on a track. A brake lever at each stand allows the tables to be merged into larger seating arrangements.
The right side mirrors the setup, offering packeted snacks, pharmaceutical supplies, communications, and storage services. A stage features a large projection screen replaying news and sports highlights, easily able to be elevated for larger presentations or musical performances. I heard that a small orchestra playing classical music is common for evening events. There are seats facing the stage, but it’s mostly standing room with high tables that can pop up from within the floor. Right now, a few are raised to hold coffee cups while people mindlessly watch yesterday’s football highlights. I’ll never understand that. We already know who won the games.
An information screen activates as I approach the entrance, recognising my presence before an artificial voice addresses me. The display rises from a slim white pedestal, close to four feet tall, its glass surface already lit, calm and expectant.
“Hello and welcome to United World’s Oceania Headquarters.
We have not been able to identify you as a staff member or a registered visitor. Don’t worry. This can happen from time to time.
What is the purpose of your visit?”
They have added some new security measures since Dad worked here! I reprimand myself. Just because I’m not able to see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It does worry me again how careless Roselyn’s uninvited entry really was though. I don’t think a ski mask would have been sufficient enough to bypass an unrecognised personnel warning.
I respond to the screen, keeping my mind focused on why I am here.
“My name is Victoria Pateras and I have a 10am meeting with Mariana Montoya.”
There is a brief pause while it analyses my reason.
“Thank you, Victoria. Please wait a moment while I confirm your appointment.”
Barely a few seconds pass before I receive approval to proceed.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Thank you for your patience, Victoria. Please proceed straight until you reach the elevators at the back of the building. They will open for you and take you to the level where you will meet Mariana Montoya. We hope that you have a pleasant meeting and enjoy the harbour view on the way up.”
I follow the meridian line beneath the interior balcony toward the elevators at the back. They have no buttons and open for me without needing to push anything. I step inside the shiny metallic doors and begin the slow ascent. I focus on reciting my questions in my head rather than taking in a view I’ve already seen plenty of times.
The doors open at the top floor. A man stands at a semi-circle desk, labelled Office of the Director with Mariana Montoya styled beneath it. The floor slopes upward toward him, making him appear to be larger than me. Chairs line the walls at an angle, occupied by people trying to maintain their patience as they face the centre of his desk. There is only one other door in the room, centred behind him. It has no handle and requires permission from its ‘guard’ to open.
I march forward toward the elevated man, who looks down at his desk with an air of importance. Here comes my first prepared speech of confidence.
“Hi! I have a 10am appointment now with Dr Mariana. My name is Victoria Pateras.”
He looks up slowly, irritated to have been interrupted in his thoughts.
He’s dressed in a dark-brown suit jacket tailored to precision, paired with a crisp white shirt. His hair is neatly styled, gelled into place, every strand controlled. As I look down, I notice the olive-green trousers beneath the desk, pressed flat and immaculate, reinforcing his tightly wound air.
“Victoria, is it?” he replies.
“Yes, thank you, that’s me,” I respond.
He comes back to me with a well-rehearsed response, gesturing toward one of the empty chairs at the back of the waiting room.
“I will let the director know that you are here. In the meantime, take a seat.”
I bite my tongue instead of reminding him that my appointment is at 10am and that I’ll need to rush back to school afterward. I don’t want to risk losing my rare opportunity.
People are called into her office throughout the morning for short appointments, leaving as new people come to fill their chairs. Even the new arrivals are getting called into her office ahead of me!
I manage to endure waiting for a full hour before returning to the man’s desk. He ignores me. I cough politely a few times. His face scrunches up briefly before he resumes ignoring me.
“Hello?” I say, lifting the inflection to turn it into a question.
He looks up. “Yes?”
I need to word this delicately and not lose my patience.
“Could I please check how much longer the wait is for my appointment? I wouldn’t push, but it’s a school day and my absence will be noted.”
He replies quickly, his voice level but pitched slightly higher.
“You are free to leave when you like. Unfortunately, I am not able to determine how long the director will be. Her work is of the utmost importance, and she is not always able to make her meetings on time. She may need to call certain people in ahead of others, as required by the work she is undertaking.”
My father may not have many good qualities, but I’m glad I inherited his stubbornness. I’m not going to give in that easily.
I reply, “I will be here waiting.”
Keeping the same condescending tone, he ends the conversation with his learned script.
“Ok, please take a seat. I will call out when the director is ready to see you.”
I return to my seat, passing a few hidden smirks from others who are waiting. They’ve played this game before and know I have no control from my position. All I can do is wait it out. Hopefully Mrs Pryor takes on more of our classes today. It seems like I’ll be here all day. Though, the assignment mark will make up for it!
I mindlessly take out my phone to message Claudia to cover for me, then hesitate with my thumb hovering over the screen. We aren’t on the kind of terms where I can ask for favours right now. She would hold this over me, or worse, make a loud announcement about my absence. I put my phone away again. Instead, I sit in silence, watching people flow in and out of the waiting room while I continue reciting my questions in my head.
Lunchtime passes. A bento box arrives for Mariana’s office, but there is still no sign of her. It is not until 4:50pm that the self-important receptionist finally calls me in to see her.
Finally, they realise I’m not going to be shaken off!
I jump to my feet, regretting the quick movement, my lower back stiff and legs needing to be revived with feeling. Unwilling to wait any longer, I use the rounded desk as a crutch and limp forward, pins and needles throbbing as circulation slowly returns. The man gives me a look of contempt, opening the door behind him with reluctance to finally let me through.
The floor continues to slope upward as I enter a corridor dedicated to United World’s fame. Faded animated imagery colours the walls of the passage, clear text floating in icons above the graphic representations highlighting specific achievements.
United World ends the Information War by signing a global peace treaty.
Groundbreaking research by Mariana Montoya saves the world from future disaster.
Mariana Montoya earns the title as the youngest ever director of United World - Oceania.
I observe that most of the displays exist to reinforce her distinguished reputation.
The United World anthem plays softly in the background, accompanied by the faint sound of applause. With each step I take, the anthem and applause grow louder, bursting into a full cheering chorus as I hurry toward the end of the corridor.
“United we breathe, united we stay,
Power and water to forge the way.
One law, one flow, one living thread,
United World, where hopes are fed.”
Very clever. From the noise alone, Mariana can tell how quickly someone is hurrying toward her and how much attention they’ve paid to the text and imagery along the way.
I reach the top at the back of the building and realise this level sits a full floor above her reception. Purpose-specific desks line the two outward faces of the building, each fitted with arrays of flat screens, allowing her to have the perspective she prefers. Her green tinted office extends along the full floor of the building, opening out via doors to additional transparent glass sections.
Each side features a blend of Australian art in varying styles, tasteful plants heavy with greenery and flowers, and integrated water elements. I can hear the faint sound of trickling water from even here. It’s very soothing.
One of the art pieces is a diorama made up entirely from stalagmite crystals of different sizes created in a circular patterned design. I think that centrepiece standing erect above the others is the crystal Ernie has been discussing with his little friends. I should get him to ask Alonso if he knows someone at United World who will lend one out, if they have any more. I bring my focus back to the still figure of my interviewee.
Today, she stands on the far side of the room near the windows, her back to me, only adding to her intimidation.
“Hi Dr Mariana. Thank you for taking the time to see me. It’s Victoria.”
She continues pondering and doesn’t speak immediately. After a short pause, she concludes those thoughts and turns on her heels to face me, the movement deliberate and on her terms.
Today she wears deep purple beneath a crisp black jacket, the colour rich and commanding, tempered only by the familiar red accent at the shirt’s outer hems. Black heels lift her just enough to sharpen her authority, clicking once against the floor before she cements her position to confront me. She stands tall, chin level, as if the room itself has adjusted to her presence rather than the other way around. Her short dark hair is unnaturally wavy, forced into its arrangement yet suiting her beautifully, framing a face that studies me with quiet calculation before allowing a politician’s smile.
“Yes, hi dear. Let us have our little talk.”
I glance around for a seat but decide to ask instead, not wanting to choose one of hers by mistake.
“Where would you like me to sit?”
Her attention appears to drift back to wherever it was before I entered. With a deep breath, she remembers to pull herself into the present and addresses me.
“There is no need to sit dear. I still have a lot to get done today and this will not take us long. I suppose you would first like to hear the history of our organisation?”
I’m a little taken aback, but catch onto her directness and adjust quickly. I do prefer people who are straightforward and honest over fake politeness.
“Yes, thank you. You do have a lot of interesting history!”
She begins, “Our organisation started when the Information War ended. In fact, our United World treaty is the global agreement that concluded it. Too many lives had been lost due to the manipulation of confidential information for power. Some governments held their ground and remained neutral parties to the war, but more abused their influence. They constantly undermined each other; the consequences affecting the well-being of the planet as a whole. It was not sustainable for each country to place themselves higher in importance than all others at the expense of humanity.
The United World founder and visionary Kelda Stj?rnberg openly communicated her plan with the Norwegian government. She proposed a treaty to change how countries competed for knowledge and resources, urging them instead to act on behalf of the world. Norway was the first party to sign the global peace treaty, closely followed by Sweden, Denmark and the rest of Scandinavia. It was also a significant win for major players in the Information War. Communist-run countries, in particular, saw the treaty as a way to extend their ideology beyond their own borders. It took many years to convince the rest of the world to join the treaty. However, by demonstrating the success of the standardised hierarchy and regulations in countries already participating, we only have a few self-governing countries left to join us. I’m sure you’re aware of these, and we continue to pitch our agreement for global peace to the United States, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Italy, and Uruguay. It is essential to get their participation as well. We do not want their government’s greed to trigger a larger war; one the planet may not recover from. Given how long our treaty has been in place, we are already overdue for an event of that magnitude.
Since United World’s establishment and our placement in each geographic region, everything has been running smoothly. I am sure that you can imagine how messy things were when every country, state and district had their own government, laws, currencies, taxes, and of course, differing opinions on what is best for the world and themselves. Money is more abundant now. Countries no longer collapse under struggling currencies tied to a lower Gross Domestic Production, and we have all but eliminated the waste of resources created by the layers of bureaucracy that come with having a government.
That does not mean things are easy for us to run. Overpopulation strains resources and widens wealth disparity between levels of our society, but these challenges exist in every country, and we continue to improve the way we manage them. We focus heavily on research, development and training, and through continual innovation we know we can ensure an abundant future for everyone.”
Mariana looks at me, comfortable with her explanation. Whatever confidence I had isn’t reflected back, my mind still processing it all. I knew a lot of this, but to hear it firsthand from the Renewable Power Director really sinks it deep into my memory!
Before I have the chance to speak, she pushes ahead with the interview.
“That covers the history of our organisation. Would you like to hear my background next?”
I find myself nodding in agreement before remembering questions I would rather be asking. She moves on to share her personal background.
“Like yourself, my interest in renewable energy started while I was still at school. United World had significantly reduced resource wastage over time, but there still was not enough for everyone to live comfortably. The availability of food, water, housing, power, and clean air were and remain the only necessities in life. Safety would come next, but once inequities in resources and information are addressed, any lack in safety can be argued to stem from those five necessities.
On your walk in, you would have seen that I completed a double bachelor’s degree in resource management and governance at Sydney University. I followed this with a PhD, sponsored by this very organisation on what I considered the most immediate necessity. Access to clean drinking water, which I called Water is in the Air. All of the water we consume comes back to us again after it leaves our bodies. It’s a resource that never depletes; we simply needed a way to purify it.
The air we breathe and the atmosphere itself contain abundant H?O, just not always in that form. The process was expensive to test, but could be highly scalable in mass production. Every residence now has a water container that collects, combines, and stores H?O from the lower atmosphere, making water forever available across all United World–operated regions.
My discovery opened a direct career path, starting with addressing challenges during the implementation of water compounders and growing into broader research projects led by my own team of researchers and engineers. I became director of our Oceania region following the departure of Bill Collingwood to private industry, though we still work together. He has utilised the ocean to expand the availability of renewable electricity, and we greatly appreciate having more power to distribute throughout the region.
We have many projects running across all of the necessities, and there are promising signs where we expect to see more major breakthroughs in the near future.
Unfortunately, I can’t share more than that, but with the assistance of technology from different regions of United World, things are looking good.”
She pauses there again while my mind still absorbing all of the information. Once again, I find that I’m not fast enough as she attempts to conclude the meeting.
“I hope that this has been useful for your project, dear, and I appreciate your interest in securing our best future.”
I had no idea that our water was made from thin air, right in our building! Let alone that SHE was the one who resolved the global water scarcity issue! I act more quickly this time. I can’t let her end the interview before I’ve had the chance to ask a question!
“Wow! But sorry, doctor, I still have some questions.”
Her face drops as she prepares to dismiss me, so I jump in to ask my first one.
“As a part of my assignment, I’ve been analysing the electricity generation and allocated usage reports, both for residential and business allowances and it just doesn’t make sense to me. I know that there are varying factors for the electricity we generate and use, but the historical data I’ve been putting together should be quite accurate. I would think that we should have a lot more power available than is being used, which is a good thing, but how do you determine the electricity quotas to make sure it’s fair and well balanced across all groups?”
Mariana’s expression turns thoughtful as she deliberates her response.
“I find that question to be long-winded. Are you able to ask it more succinctly?”
Hmm, I consider her request. I did overload her with information by blurting out my question. While I momentarily reflect on my words to rephrase, the United World anthem sounds and the man from reception rushes in, urgency written across his face.
He stops in front of Mariana, hands on his knees, panting. C’mon, it’s really not that hard to climb a ramp one level.
He addresses her by her title, “Director! Security has an update on their new protocols to prevent terrorist intruders from…”
He sees me standing there. “Are you still here?”
“Yes hun, she is still here. Victoria, I need to speak to Walt about this. I will be back shortly.”
They leave me awkwardly standing alone in the centre of the room, surrounded by breathtaking views of the blue harbour and opposite, through green-tinted glass, the Sydney Sky Mall and my school. Is her receptionist really Walter Reynolds, the Vice-President of Renewable Power? I doubt there are two Walts working for her. Haha, that’s really a glorified title for a receptionist. There isn’t even a president!
I half watch them have their conversation and half look away, not wishing to pry into their business. I am very interested in their security measures though. It might persuade Roselyn not to do something as stupid as coming back here. I’m not able to hear their conversation over the sound of flowing of water, yet I can see some visuals. Walter triggers the clear window to black out, and a screen projects onto it. That’s a neat trick!
It’s not simple to follow the conversation without hearing their words, but there are moving cameras everywhere within these streets! They appear to have video feeds with facial recognition tied to databases that identify names. Footage can replay movement patterns. There’s thermal imaging, and even micro-flying drones armed with deadly-looking red lasers. I don’t even need to understand how it all works to know it’s terribly dangerous for terrorists, let alone teenagers.
I stand on my own for approximately another fifteen minutes, starting to feel the numbness creep back into my legs. Walter leaves Mariana and returns to me with an update.
“It is best for you to leave now. The director and I will be going through some urgent matters until late, and we don’t have time for schoolgirl projects.”
I protest, “But…” only to be cut off immediately.
“Go home, girl. You can continue that conversation about butts with your school friends instead.”
Outrage flares in me as I turn my glare to Mariana for help. Unfortunately, her eyes remain fixed on the moving screen, and I am unable to catch her attention. I storm back down the ramp, catching Walt’s condescending smile one last time out of the corner of my eye. It represents victory. Well, I can do what a journalist does best. She did refuse to answer my only question. I wonder what everyone is going to hear she’s hiding!