The Greatest Philosophical Question In The Galaxy

The Greatest Philosophical Question Of The Galaxy

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TERRAN UNION ARCHIVES//02102571//THE SUMMIT AT EL AUIUN

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ARCHIVAL FOOTAGE WILL BEGIN IN THREE, TWO, ONE-

The Great Hall in El-Aaiun was starting to fill up as the delegates began to file in. From his place on the podium, the Commandant General of the Polisario Front, head of State of the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic watched in satisfaction. They had been waiting a long time for this meeting. There were a ridiculous number of nations on Earth now and when the Terran Union had agreed to a rotating Presidency their fight for freedom from the Moroccan oppressors had not yet been won.

Two centuries later, they were free and the Presidency of the Terran Union had finally rotated to them and the Commandant could not be more pleased. Most nations had spent their Presidencies on mundane things like economic development or mining the asteroid fields or repairing relations with humanities now far flung colonies across the local spiral arm of the Milky Way. Those heady days of colonization had slowed somewhat and the Terran Union had preoccupied itself with more internal affairs these days. These meetings had become brief and largely ceremonial, little more than a symbolic summit between various heads of state who enjoyed canapes, booze and the occasional erstwhile tryst. The Commandant grimaced at that last thought: when the Transnistrian Prime Minister had been caught boffing the Moldovan President during the Kigali Summit two years prior, the scandal had hijacked the agenda and more or less ruined whatever plans the Prime Minister of Rwanda had for their turn at the Presidency.

The Commandant was hoping that they could get through this summit unscathed.

The Hall was nearly full now, by habit, the Commandant scanned the back of the hall until he found his Deputy, Yazmin Ghali who met his gaze with a knowing smile at his growing impatience and held up her thumb and pointer finger close together. The Commandant smiled, recognizing the sign. They were almost all in... then the fun could begin.

He glanced up at the flag of the Terran Union, royal blue with its seven interlocking rings forming a circle. Next to it was the familiar green, white, red and black of the Sahrawi Republic. The Commandant smiled at them, suddenly convinced that this was going to work. The question was a simple one, but it would take the delegates by surprise and in that surprise, he'd sharpen his arguments until they were undeniable. A flurry of motion at the back made him glance up and he saw them begin to close the heavy doors at the back of the hall. He waited until he saw the sign from Yazmin and then he picked up the ceremonial gavel and pounded it a few times on the sounding block.

"Order, order! The delegates will come to order!"

The general chatter and bustle in the hall began to subside as the various heads of state and delegates began to sit down and compose themselves. Various ceremonial robes were adjusted. Sashes were smoothed out. Politely bored expressions that gave away no hint of any emotion or reaction at all were assumed. SIlence fell.

The Commandant took a deep breath. Showtime.

"Honored delegates, friends, colleagues... it is my great pleasure as Commandant of the Polisario Front and President of the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic to welcome you to the Summit of El-Aaiun "

Polite applause greeted this statement and he felt some nervousness begin to grow in his gut, but he forced it back down. He took a deep breath, set his shoulders and opened the folder on the podium in front of him and began his speech.

"Most of the time, whoever holds this Presidency takes the opportunity provided by their year in power to announce some grand initiative or pursue some new colonial venture or scientific advancement. Our government has contemplated all of these things and has a few ideas we will happily share in due course. But a bigger question occurred to us that we wish to put to the delegates today."