The Ballad of Nixon and Brezhnev

Chapter 12 - Au Revoir

The empty noises of diplomatic farewells, the shuffling of papers, the clinking of glasses, and the murmurs of aides who had had enough of their masters' showmanship filled the spacious reception hall. Nixon stood by the window with his hands behind his back, looking out at the gloomy sky with a look of apparent introspection. Actually, his thoughts were already elsewhere, in Washington, speculating about how the press would cover this summit. It didn't matter that the talks and the treaty were still ongoing. He had the power to mold the story. He may give the impression that we won.

Standing across the hall from Nixon, Brezhnev appeared equally thoughtful, but his thoughts were more on the vodka he was going to open as soon as he got home than on diplomacy. Reluctantly, his assistants flitted around him, reminding him of unanswered questions and loose ends, but Brezhnev dismissed them with a dismissive sweep of his hand. He saw the summit as a personal triumph even though it was a diplomatic deadlock. Despite his bluster, Nixon had not been able to outwit him. The American president had, in Brezhnev's opinion, played straight into his hands and left with nothing more than hollow promises.

Photographers and reporters flocked for the finale spectacle as the three leaders eventually met in the center of the room, false smiles plastered on their cheeks. Nixon held out his hand, and Brezhnev took it firmly enough to show who was in charge while maintaining the appearance of mutual support.

"A real pleasure, Mr. President," Brezhnev said, his voice thick with sarcasm thinly veiled as sincerity. "I believe we've laid the groundwork for... important future progress." His translator echoed the words with the same practiced neutrality.

Nixon nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a stiff smile. "Absolutely, Premier Brezhnev. This is only the beginning of a stronger, more cooperative relationship between our nations. A historic moment, really." He added the last part with a practiced air of grandeur, knowing full well how hollow it was.

Both guys seemed calm and diplomatic as they exchanged a few more meaningless pleasantries, but behind it all was a shared smug satisfaction. Nixon felt positive that he had avoided Brezhnev's traps and preserved US strategic dominance. Brezhnev, however, was certain that he had restrained the Americans and maintained the USSR's superiority over the United States by refusing to yield to American pressure. Though neither had conceded an inch, they both felt triumphant as they left.

Their assistants trailed behind them, their faces pallid from sleep deprivation and the ongoing stress of negotiating the tumultuous talks. The lengthy table was covered in mounds of unfinished material, with treaty drafts left hanging as though the summit had never taken place. There was no real resolution in sight, and the room's energy was depleted by days of posturing and arguing over pointless technicalities.

Robotically efficient, the leaders' entourages gathered possessions as they were about to depart. Pens were capped, briefcases zipped shut, and papers were stowed away to be forgotten in archives. Tired expressions were on Brezhnev's team as they walked toward the exit. Nixon's entourage, similarly exhausted, was already planning the next round of media statements and flight schedules.

Like the last dying wisp of cigar smoke, the ridiculousness of it all lingered in the atmosphere. After so much planning and anticipation, the big summit had yielded little more than a beautifully choreographed picture opportunity and a few broken promises. The speeches, the practiced smiles, and the handshakes were all for show, but deep down, everyone knew that nothing had changed.

Nixon and Brezhnev reclined in their seats in unison, feeling victorious as they boarded their different aircraft. They thought they had outwitted each other and survived the top. Nixon thought of the headlines announcing his genius at diplomacy. Brezhnev also imagined the story he would tell his people, presenting himself as the unwavering protector of Soviet might.

The clatter of shoes subsided and the last of the aides left, leaving behind little more than the echo of broken promises and an unwritten pact back in the empty reception hall. After the meeting ended, the world was still as divided as it had been. And as the sky grew gloomy, it seemed like both men were already working on the next series of falsehoods they would tell themselves, someplace.

Swiss Federation President Pierre Graber addressed the public about the result of the meeting, "We are gathered here today, my fellow Swiss citizens and friends, after a period of great disappointment. The US-USSR Peace Summit, which was supposed to be a ray of hope in a world where nuclear war loomed large, has failed. It appears that the possibility of a harmonious cohabitation between these two nations has beyond our grasp," and he continued after a sighing pause, "However, I implore you to not give up. Even though this setback is obviously big, it doesn't mean that our path to a more peaceful world is over. History has shown us that hope may always exist, even in the worst of circumstances. We have to be a ray of stability in this chaotic environment. As our forefathers once said, "Unity is strength." Let us keep that in mind. By working together, we can overcome this obstacle and create a prosperous and peaceful future. Au revoir, mes chers citoyens."