The clapping of approaching footsteps empties a corridor of its silence. Three raps at a large door resound throughout a commodious chamber.
“Who’s it?” A sturdy voice emerges from inside. Whispers exchange outside and a throat clears. “Ma’am, it-it’s about ten past seven already.” Pea-sized beads of sweat drip to the floor.
The inside voice hollers, “Seven?” and mutters. Small puddles form across the tile. “Oh, yes, right!” the voice returns, “Yes, alright.” A final bead crashes. “I said ALRIGHT!”
As a hand pushes the door forward, a malodorous air is released into the corridor. Bodies shuffle past bursting cupboards and purring machines and squeeze into the heavily furnished chamber; assistants, plugging into spaces around the chamber. They shovel past glass cases and drawers, and collapsing stacks of books and folders. As the commotion settles, attention gathers around a burly figure towering over a severely cluttered circular desk. From the settling, a hastened voice emerges.
“Ma’am, with your permission, the Chancellor of the Noble Cabinet will commence the Unofficial Presentation of the Noble Cabinet of the Premier of the Glorious Nation to the Premier of the Glorious Nation by the Noble Cabinet on the Official Report of the State of the Glorious Nation.” The Chancellor scratches her cheek.
The Premier surveys the pairs of eyes constellating toward her. “The Chancellor may commence.”
“Thank you, ma’am Premier.” The Chancellor whistles and the commotion resumes. Tables and chairs and a murky sofa are removed from the center of the room and replaced with an easel and an enormous notepad. The first page of the notepad displays the words UNOFFICIAL PRESENTATION above a black and white insignia.
“For conciseness, the Chancellor of the Noble Cabinet requests that the Unofficial Presentation of the Noble Cabinet of the Premier of the Glorious Nation to the Premier of the Glorious Nation by the Noble Cabinet on the Official Report of the State of the Glorious Nation henceforth be referred to as the,” someone turns over the first page of the notepad, “U-F-O-P-N-C-P-G-N-P-G-N-N-C-O-R-S-G-N, or succinctly, the UFOPNCPGNPGNNCORSGN.” The Chancellor raises her cheeks, revealing her teeth.
“The Chancellor’s request is granted.” The Premier spits into a tin on the desk, “Please proceed with the commencement of the,” looking over at the notepad, “UFO…P…N…UFOPNCP…GNP….GNN…COPSGN.”
The Chancellor whistles, and down the corridor the clapping of footsteps resumes. Secretaries forming a line jog up the corridor and through the center of the chamber to the Premier’s desk. One approaches the desk, and clears her throat. She shoves the cluttered mess onto the floor and jogs out of the room. Each remaining secretary one by one lays brick-thick binders onto the cleared space and jogs back down the corridor.
The Orders of the Noble Cabinet
“In keeping with long and glorious custom, the Chancellor of the Noble Cabinet will commence the UFOPNCPGNPGNNCOPSGN. In order to properly commence, the Chancellor formally requests the presence of the Honorable Ministers of the Noble Cabinet.”
The Premier nods, gazing down at the binders, the covers of which all exactly resemble the first page of the notepad, with the exception of one; a binder in the center, the insignia of which is colored. She picks it up and opens the cover to the top page. A cough startles her and she looks up.
“Ma’am, um. The um…” the Chancellor points over her shoulder.
The Premier looks forward blankly. “Yes, what? What? What is it?” Shadows gather and whispers echo down the corridor at the opposite end from the chamber.
“The pass- you um…I-I can’t- they can’t enter without the proper summoning.”
“Yes! Of course, the summoning! I formally authorize the-” an obnoxious coughing interrupts the Premier, who looks over to a sweat-drenched assistant standing beside the notepad.
The Chancellor quickly raises her hand, “Ma’am, the summoning requires the request for the password.”
The Premier nods, “Of course! Right. The Premier requests that the Chanc-” a loud cough whips down from the end of the corridor.
“The Premier of the…” the Chancellor says.
She begins, “The Premier of the Nob-”
“Of the Glori-”
“…of the Glorious Nation requests the password in order to…” the Premier looks down.
The Chancellor whispers, “…to authorize…”
“…to authorize the summoning of the Honorable Members of the Noble Cabinet.” The Premier looks at the assistant, who gives her a thumbs up. The Chancellor approaches the desk and leans across, holding her folded palm around her lips. The Premier lowers her ear to the Chancellor’s palm and the Chancellor whispers. Another stack of folders and books collapses to the floor. The Chancellor walks to the entrance of the chamber and whispers into the ear of an assistant, who nods ands blows on a horn. A thunderous clapping of footsteps envelops the corridor as three rows of ministers jog toward the chamber, pausing at the entrance. The Chancellor walks back to the desk and turns around, facing the entrance. A great globule of sweat crosses down her forehead and crashes on a folder at her feet. A long moment passes. The Chancellor glances around at the Premier.
“I, uh,“ the Premier shakes her head, “Esther, I can’t remember the next verse.” The Chancellor snaps her fingers toward an assistant, who leans down to a collapsed stack of folders and rummages to the bottom, pulling one out. The Chancellor shakes her head. The assistant stands up and looks around the room. The Chancellor points to a stack. The assistant knocks it over with her shin and grasps with both hands at leather book from the bottom. She lifts it up and wobbles over to the desk, plopping it down. Two assistants sneeze. The Premier sifts through several pages, pausing at one.
Softly murmuring, she announces, “Right. Alright. So, we uh-”
“Yes, ma’am?” The Chancellor grinds her teeth.
“The-” she spits into her tin and licks her lips, “The Premier graciously invites the Membership of the Noble Cabinet, in its entirety, into the Chamber of the Premier of the Glorious Nation, so as to commence the UFONNCGPSPOCPGNPNGN.” The Premier looks up, meeting the jaded eyes of the Chancellor.
“…the UFOP,” says the Chancellor, popping the p, “UFOP-NCPG-NPGNN-COPS-GN, ma’am.”
The Premier glances at the notepad. “…so as to commence the UFOP,” also popping the p and looking back to the assistant, who gives her another thumbs up, “NCP…GNPGNN…COPSsssGN.” The horn is blown again.
The Chancellor calls forward, “The Honorable Ministers of the Order of the Stewards of Wealth and Prosperity are summoned to attend the UFOPNCPGNPGNNCORSGN!” An assistant walks over to a panel on the wall exposing several levers, pulling one. The chamber croaks and, from the entrance down to the Premier’s desk, the right wall expands outward. Along the wall and dangling in suspension, a steel frame installed with armchairs descends from the ceiling, stopping at the shoulders of a line of assistants beneath. They immediately reach through the frame’s steel fencing and wipe clean the seats and arms of the chairs. One assistant pulls down a step ladder from the end of the frame which faces the entrance of the chamber. The horn blows. The row of ministers on the right side of the corridor stride into the chamber and climb up the step ladder, each taking a seat.
“The Honorable Ministers of the Order of the Stewards of Life and Society are summoned to attend the UFOPNCPGNPGNNCORSGN!” the Chancellor calls again. A second level is pulled from the panel, and the chamber croaks again as the left wall expands, and another steel frame is lowered and its fixtures tidied. An assistant yanks at one foot of the step ladder, which remains stationary. She yanks again. Another assistant grabs the other foot, together giving each a set of repetitive yanks. As they stop and wipe sweat from their brows, a third assistant approaches the ladder, inspecting it from all sides. She reaches out and a lock snaps. She nods her head and a single yank pulls the ladder into place. The horn blows again. The left row of ministers stride into the chamber and take places in the chairs on the suspended frame. Mumbled chattering overcomes the chamber as attention draws to an empty chair at the end of the frame.
A voice appears, shouting “Order!” Steps clap forward from down the corridor. “Order, I claim!” Silence returns to the chamber. A poker-faced figure appears at the entrance. “Order in the office of the Premier!”
The Chancellor raises her brow. “I beg your pardon, ma’am Vice-Chancellor, but they’ve already been summoned.”
The Vice-Chancellor chortles, pulling a toothpick from her jaw. “Indeed, perhaps they have. Perhaps they appear here within their flesh, and their extravagant gowns, and their titles; perhaps, though, they have not returned from their exile of heart. Perhaps in their desperate moods-”
A horn is drawn long. “Vice-Chancellor Matilda is summoned to the UFOPNCPGNPGNNCOPSGN.” The Vice-Chancellor bows her head all the way down to below her knees, stuffing her face into her robes and holding both palms out. Erected, she cocks her chin horizontal and strides pridefully toward the Premier, taking a place opposite of the Chancellor and facing the entrance.
Chattering again overcomes the room. The Chancellor glances at her wristwatch. She waves her hand to one of the assistants, who jogs to her and leans her head down. “Where is the Honorable First Minister of Divinity?” The Chancellor whispers hoarsely to her, watching as a vacant expression befalls her face. The assistant shrugs and mouths I’m not sure.
The Vice-Chancellor’s Meditation
The Premier picks up a glass from a table beside her desk, holds it up to a machine mounted on the wall. From a selection of illuminated buttons, each of a different color, she presses one of light blue, and water pours from out of the machine into her cup. She takes a sip, turning back toward the center of the room. The Chancellor glares at the Premier, who looks to the side, then looks back at her and asks, “What?”
The Chancellor nods. “Premier of our Glorious Nation, Honorable Ministers of the Orders, assistants, secretaries of the assistants; I beg your attention while the Vice-Chancellor commences our Presentation with a meditation.” The Chancellor forces a smile to the Vice-Chancellor and holds her palm out toward the center of the chamber. The Vice-Chancellor grins uncontrollably, bowing her head slightly, looking toward the corridor and pacing towards the center. The Vice-Chancellor itches her nose. The only sound is of the soft purr of machines.
“Here among us now, an imperfect vision is seen
exposing a view both of what will come and of what has been.
Do not glance, and do not stare, for with eyes it is not detectable.
Have you with your thoughts surveyed it? Is it in your heart, perceptible?
Both a light within your being and a spark aligned to time,
it is the endless folds of partial seeing between quivering finite minds.
We here, now, are tasked with describing its contour and lengths,
with measuring the depths of its logic, and assessing its shortfalls and strengths.
How has this come to be, that with an audacious and insistent resolve
we dare to seek to capture the governance of a mysterious and splendid world?
Has it come about through science, and with the exactness of our physics?
With the elegant simplicity of our mathematical precision?
Is it from our culture? Our song, our dress, our dance?