Aurorarama - Jean-Christophe Valtat [57]
“We will not, unfortunately, have the pleasure of hearing the Eskimo delegation from Flagler Fjord,” announced Surville, with a certain streak of satisfaction that irked Brentford immediately—though whatever Surville might say was likely to irk Brentford.
“Mr. Peterswarden has informed us,” he continued, “that they were caught red-handed stealing some precious objects at the Inuit People’s Ice Palace and are presently being detained by the authorities.”
Brainveil whispered something in Surville’s ear.
“Needless to say,” added Surville, fixing his gaze on Brentford, “this does not incline the Council to consider their request about the hunting quotas with all the equanimity it was previously very willing to show.”
Brentford and Mason exchanged glances, while Peterswarden raised his hand to speak.
“It has certainly caused turmoil,” said Peterswarden after Surville, with a mechanical nod, had granted him permission to speak. “Not so much because of the act itself, which is likely to happen with people as curious and spontaneous as our Inuit friends are, but because our aboriginal employees have naturally but thoughtlessly taken sides with their own kind, and this a few days away from the opening, at a time when we need them to fully participate in presenting their own rich and fascinating culture to the public.”
It was Imruzudov, this time, who spoke through Surville.
“The Council suggests that, in the first place, these persons should not have been allowed on the premises. It is your duty, not to mention very much in your interest, to make sure that the dissenting employees will no longer cause delay in the realization of a project which is, as you know, dear to the Council.”
“I understand,” said Peterswarden, in a voice that trembled slightly, “and I thank the Council for its concern.”
“You are still invited to repeat to Mr. Brentford Orsini and Captain-General Frank Mason what you have just told us about the hunting quotas,” said Surville, on his own initiative this time.
“Oh …” said Peterswarden, with visible relief, as if he were, now, treading on thicker ice. Brentford could guess that whatever he said, or recited, given the present circumstances, would be a good indication of where the Council stood on that matter.
“I was humbly advising the Council to stick to the current policy. The wilderness Inughuit should be as separated from us as possible, in order to ensure their autonomy, especially as to what regards their subsistence. They have different needs and different ways of satisfying them. Thanks to their abilities, they can hunt in the remotest areas where we are not fit to thrive, if you will allow me to say so. Getting them to hunt for us, even for a payment in kind, will make them our servants instead of the free people they are and deserve to be. I also wish to recall to the Council that they receive, thanks to its own wisdom, a limited number of munitions sufficient for their own survival and that, in their own interest, it was deemed unsound to give them more. This way, we hope to save these peace-loving people from the misuse of firearms so often demonstrated, I regret to say, in our so-called advanced culture.”
The Council nodded their heads in unison like a bunch of string puppets held by a single fist. Given the recent photographs of mysterious Inuit carrying rifles, it was an argument that could not but go straight to their old dried hearts.
“Mr. Orsini?” said Surville.
Brentford chose his words carefully, in order not to sound like an excerpt from A Blast on the Barren Land.
“I can only agree with Mr. Peterswarden’s solicitude toward