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GM February 12th, Friday, 2016 Summit Transnational building, meeting room 5, floor 10, Wading Way, Freedom City As far as company reps went, the people sent by ailing power and research firm Redshift Energy of Washington weren't much to inspire confidence. Mostly either noticeably young new blood still uncomfortable in their stiff shirts, or old company men who had the tired, rumpled look of somebody going through the motions until retirement, they filled the meeting room with a nervous atmosphere. Meanwhile, quite at his ease, a African-American man in his late twenties had already taken his seat and was quickly reading over a briefcase full of papers crammed with atomic formulae. One of his associates had to quickly nudge him in the shoulder to alert him the entrance of their host at Summit Transnational, Amir ibn Jafar ibn Abd al-Aziz al-Misri. With a hurried, apologetic and distracted smile, the man stood up and joined the other reps. An older man stepped up, offering his pale, soft hand to the imposing philanthropist. "Er, Michael Monday, Mr. Misri, of Redshift Energy. Glad you could meet us, it's a wonderful opportunity for both of our companies." All the Redshift people tried to look like they agreed, the young man with the briefcase looking entirely, naturally confident in contrast. Outside, the city was frosted with snow and clinging ice, but in the conference room the pale sunlight mingled with the warm florescents to cast a strangely tranquil TV-like colour over the walls and long table. Very thoughtfully, someone had put coffee and pastries around, so everyone could be even more jittery than they already were.