Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [239]
Wilkins smiled crookedly and said, “That man is a fox: a ninth-generation ecological fox. Never mind. Join the queue, join the queue.”
“Wilkins, our sanitary problem is assuming catastrophic dimensions. I have more than one report in this briefcase which shows that people will start dying soon and—”
“This is a social reception, Lanark, public health will be debated on Monday. Just join the queue and say hello to your hosts.”
“Hosts?”
“The Provan executive officer and Lord and Lady Monboddo. Join the queue, join the queue.”
They were in a broad curving corridor with glass double-doors on one side and a queue moving steadily through. Lanark noticed a woman in a silver sari and a brown man in a white toga but most people wore sober uniforms or business suits and had the wary look of important people who, without showing friendship, are prepared to respond judiciously to it in others. They were an easy crowd to join. At the glass door a loud voice announced the arrivals to a company beyond: “Senator Sennacherib of New Alabama. Brian de Bois Guilbert, Grand Templar of Languedoc and Apulia. Governor Vonnegut of West Atlantis….”
He reached the door and heard the satisfying cry, “Lord Provost Lanark of Greater Unthank,” and shook hands with a hollow-cheeked man who said, “Trevor Weems of Provan. Glad you could come.”
A stately woman in a blue tweed gown shook his hand and said, “Had you a nice trip?”
Lanark stared at her and said, “Catalyst.”
“Call her Lady Monboddo,” said Ozenfant, who was standing beside her. He shook Lanark’s hand briskly. “Time changes all the labels, as you yourself are proving also.”
A girl in a scarlet skirt and blouse took Lanark’s arm and led him down some steps saying, “Hello, I’m called Libby. I expect you need some refreshment. Shall I get you a snack from the buffet? Pâté de something? Breast of something? Locusts and honey?”
“Was Ozenfant …? Is Ozenfant …?”
“The new lord president director, yes hadn’t you heard? Doesn’t he look tremendously fit? I wonder why his wife is wearing that hairy frock? Perhaps you aren’t hungry. Neither am I. Let’s tuck into the booze instead, there’s heaps of it. Just sit there a minute.”
He sat down at the end of a long leather sofa and looked perplexedly around.
He was on the highest and largest of four floors which descended like steps to a wall of window overlooking the stadium. Half the people standing around seemed to be delegates and stood talking in quiet little groups. Girls in scarlet lent some liveliness to the company by carrying trays between the groups with flirtatious quickness, but they were balanced by silent, robust men who stood watchfully by the walls wearing black suits and holding glasses of whisky which they did not sip. On a glass-topped table near the sofa lay a sheaf of pamphlets entitled ASSEMBLY PROGRAMME. Lanark lifted and opened one. He read a printed letter from Trevor Weems welcoming the delegates on behalf of the people of Provan and trusting their stay would be a happy one. There was no possibility of danger to life or limb, as the newest sort of security staff had been rented from the Quantum-Cortexin group; the Red Girls, however, were human and anxious to help with any difficulty the delegates could bring to them. Then came six pages of region names listed alphabetically from Armorica to Zimbabwe. Lanark saw that the Greater Unthank delegate was given as Provost Sludden. Then came a page headed:
FIRST DAY
HOUR 11. Arrival and reception of delegates by Lord and Lady Monboddo
After this a press conference was listed, a lunch, an “opportunity for social and informal lobbying,” a sheepdog trial, a pipe band contest, a dinner with speeches, a performance by the Erse Opera Company of Purser’s Misfortunes of Elphin, a firework display and a party. Lanark turned a page impatiently and found something less frivolous.
SECOND DAY
HOUR 8.50. Breakfast. Lobbying.
HOUR 10. World Education Debate.
Chairman, Lord Monboddo.
Opening speech: “Logos