Fourth Estate
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First published in Great Britain by Fourth Estate 2015
Copyright © Seni Glaister 2015
Seni Glaister asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record of this book is
available from the British Library.
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Source ISBN: 9780008118952
Ebook Edition © May 2015 ISBN: 9780008118969
Version: 2016-05-11
For my brave and brilliant father
Prof. David Glaister
The Cabinet
The President – Sergio Scorpioni
Minister for Defence – Alixandria Heliopolis Visparelli
Minister for the Exterior – Mario Lucaccia
Minister for the Interior – Rolando Posti
Minister of Finance – Roberto Feraguzzi
Minister for Health – Dottore Decio Rossini
Minister for Agricultural Development – Enzo Civicchioni
Minister for Education – Professore Giuseppe Scota
Minister for Recreation – Marcello Pompili
Minister for Leisure – Tersilio Cellini
Minister for Tourism – Settimio Mosconi
Minister for Employment – Vlad Lubicic
Chief of Staff to the President – Angelo Bianconi
The Proletariat
The Postman – Remi
The Stationmaster – Vinsent Gabboni
Patron of Il Gallo Giallo – Dario Mariani
Patron of Il Toro Rosso – Piper
The Clockmaker – Pavel
The Potter – Elio
The Visitors
British VIP – Lizzie Holmesworth
American Consultant 1 – Chuck Whylie
American Consultant 2 – Paul Fields
Alieni theam faciunt optimam.
(Strangers make the best tea.)
High above the city, in the dustiest, windiest, sparsest corner of the north-west quadrant, Remi was sorting the mail. He had arrived out of breath at the sorting office. He glanced at his stopwatch and noted, with a flicker of irritation, that he was at the upper end of the time he allowed himself for this short journey. The early-morning rain had added an element of risk to some of the sharper corners, and on several occasions he’d had to slow almost to a stop to avoid injury to himself or damage to his bicycle. Happily, though, he lived on the same level as his workplace, and his commute was generally a straightforward three-kilometre cycle ride on the slippery paths that snaked through the tea plantations from the small home he shared with his mother. In a month or two, with the onset of the harsh summer sun, these paths would quickly mould into dusty, deeply grooved channels. In turn the channels would soon evolve into narrow ruts, which would hug his bicycle tyres so snugly that he could ride much of the way with his eyes closed – a feat he had often attempted with considerable, albeit unrecorded, success. Even in the wet spring months his journey to work was not strenuous; his bicycle could probably still find its own way through sheer habit, and this was certainly the easiest section of his day’s circuit. That morning, however, his journey had been interrupted not once but twice, on the first occasion by a neighbour, who needed help with a stuck pig, then shortly afterwards by a second neighbour, who held the firm belief that a problem shared was a problem halved. Remi had wondered, as he pedalled furiously to make up for the lost seconds, whether the sharing of a problem exactly doubled it, providing it with two minds instead of one in which to fester, and he further worried that the problem, like the simplest of organisms, was simultaneously dividing and subdividing in his brain and that of his neighbour.