The churning spiraled into dread the next morning. The United Nations Summit was today.

Only one representative was needed from each directorate this time; Logan was chosen for his.

The UN Summit was held in a massive conference hall—fully decked with thousands of audience seats. The Assembly Hall.

There was a wide conference table at the front, chaired with two rows of seats along its circumference. They were to be filled by world leaders. Since the circular wooden desk was not close-ended like an actual circle, the ends were ten feet apart. The hole it created at the center had a long table with five men on opposite sides.

Logan recalled reading that the Assembly Hall was modeled after the well-known Le Corbusier design, which had a substantial concrete building and an iconic dome.

The tiny lights high up in the ceiling sparkled in their spiraled pattern. They dimmed enough for a surreal effect, which Logan had no doubt they were aiming for all along.

Heads of government from various countries were scattered everywhere, as well as the employees of the international organization. Blessing Oyediran squealed like a child beside him. "It's happening!"

Logan eyed the conference table. Something he could not quite describe was poking around in his gut. It was happening, alright.

His assigned seat was at the very edge of the table and Blessing trailed after him as he headed there. Twenty minutes later, those present had exceeded the United Nation’s quorum by a sizable amount. None were smiling.

Not even Mr. Gambetti, who was now approaching the meeting, all suited up, with a pair of sunglasses on his face.

That was when Logan noticed the empty seat at the head of the table, right beside the representative of the President of France.

Logan hissed in irritation. This was the United Nations, for Pete's sake. How could Mr. Gambetti be late?

He did not even have the decency to hurry up. He sauntered in, despite the annoyed glances.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Someone from the GSA Aeronautics Research Missions Directorate was speaking as he took his seat. "A sample size was calculated for this in-depth study on the Top Aerospace Trends & Startups. 1700 startups and scaleups from around the world.

The goal of this research is to provide data-driven innovation intelligence that aids strategic decision-making by providing an overview of new technologies in the aerospace industry–"

Dr. Donald was doing fine but the Secretary-General did not look impressed. "We need your data about Earth."

Her Australian accent was evident as she went on. "You claim the earth is dying. Already dead, in fact. Why don't you back that up first?"

Logan scoffed quietly. Claim?

Dr. Donald visibly blushed. That was not his forte. Space, rockets, and asteroids were all he knew.

"Well?"

"We don't claim that the earth is dying. The earth is dying at a rapid rate, ma'am. However, I am the Chief Engineer, so I'm not able to enumerate such data. Dr. Foxxman would be better suited for that."

Foxxman got up immediately. Tried to. Mr. Gambetti beat him to it.

"Since 1880, the average global temperature has risen by 0.14° Fahrenheit (0.08° Celsius), or roughly 2° Fahrenheit. Since 1981, the pace of warming has more than doubled: 0.32° F (0.18° C) per decade. According to NOAA temperature data, 2022 was the sixth-warmest year on record. The 2022 surface temperature was 1.55° Fahrenheit (0.86° Celsius) higher than the 20th-century average of 57.0 degrees Fahrenheit (13.9° Celsius) and 1.90 degrees Fahrenheit (1.06° Celsius) higher than the pre-industrial period. The ten warmest years on record have all occurred after 2010."

That was random research from the internet. Logan would know. No relevant research paper ever passed him by.

That particular one was by Rebecca Lindsey and Luannn Dahlman from seven years ago. Logan glared from across the room. Mr. Gambetti literally recited it word for word.

He wasted no time jumping to his feet with a fixed smile. "Ignore him."

"I take it you're Dr. Foxxman?"

"That is correct, ma'am."

"Was that the supposed proof of our— what did you call it again —inevitable extinction?"

"Of course not. This is."

The words came to him like second nature. Maybe it was the glint of mockery in the Madam Secretary General's eyes; maybe it was the skepticism written on the faces of practically everyone in the room.

Perhaps it was his boss' shameless height of cluelessness. But Logan Foxxman went off as if his life depended on it. Their lives did depend on it.

For two hours, he enunciated the reports for the eleventh time. Logan spoke about climate change, global warming, droughts, forest fires, erosions, and hurricanes. He spoke of the ozone layer; how it was basically useless now, and how the planet was slowly being stripped of its atmosphere. He spoke of everything few and far between.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan did not feel like he wasted his saliva.