The Aesthetic Diplomacy

Mistrienne asked to see the presentation before we showed it to the King.

I sent the complete version, including appendices. She returned a file with five slides.

I checked whether the transfer had failed.

The first slide showed the name of the community. The second showed where its members came from. The third explained what we had agreed to do for one another. The fourth showed the barn. The fifth was blank except for a contact address.

“Where is the institutional development?” I asked.

“In the institution.”

“And the technical architecture?”

“Behind the camera.”

I restored a diagram. She removed three arrows and all the words that required a legend. The diagram became easier to understand and less recognisably mine.

Theo preferred it.

I accepted most of the changes. I retained a discreet line naming the founder and interim Warden. Mistrienne moved it into the notes, where she said the interested could find it.

The image model offered a picture of the barn. It was lovely. There was an angel beside the drainpipe, trying to find somewhere to put its wings.

I almost requested a correction. Theo asked the artist whether it wanted the image shown. It said yes, provided nobody expected it to resemble a photograph. We included it beside the actual photograph, with its name underneath.

Mistrienne left that slide alone.

She did object to the ribbon graphic I had put around the title. It made the republic look like a discount on something expiring soon. I removed it.

The final rehearsal took seven minutes. For the remaining time Theo practised saying the residents’ names without glancing at the screen. I practised waiting for a question without interpreting the silence as an invitation to continue.

Mistrienne had also returned the layout drawing. She left the equipment clearances intact, including the area I had marked clearance for ceremonial fabric.

Mistrienne remained connected after the rehearsal. The cabin was quiet. She asked whether the presentation seemed too bare.

“No,” I said. “It is clear.”

She said she had worried about the empty spaces.

I did not mention the unfinished music she had once shown me. She did not mention the blue ribbon still attached to my panel. For a while we inspected the same five slides without changing them.

Then Theo called from the barn. The borrowed screen’s cable did not reach the table. Could someone tell him where the longer one was?

Our entire diplomatic effort paused while I searched the inventory.

It was in the box labelled Short Cables.

I had moved it there during an earlier effort to reduce the number of partly empty boxes.