The farce of the queen of colors created panic even in the huge office of the president in Cortocioaia, who clearly ordered his three advisers to stop that mess of an air conditioning and open the windows as wide as possible so fresh air could come in. Like his Carmina would do in the heart of Transylvania at the beginning of every autumn when she prepared zakuska and pickles, and fermented the must. The first man of the country would get to his home, I mean, his homes, ride the tram in Dumbrava, row alone in the boat carrying just him and Carmina, circling the lake three times, to show his beloved wife what an arm he still had even when his youth had withered a bit. Then he would stop for twenty mititei at the old restaurant by the lake, from where he would return to his homes with the tram, which had achieved cult status for him ever since childhood, when he’d ask his mother’s permission to allow him to ride on rails all day.

Reta, chief councilor in The City of the Last Eclipse for seven years now, went personally to check whether those silly maids had exactly followed the order given by Klaunus Robohanus Verrmorell on how to ventilate his office. The poor maids had not even gotten to carry out the order, and General Maciuca was already making a noisy appearance in the hall. He got up, made his bed neatly and his morning calisthenics militarily in the middle of the night, to make sure he arrived in time for the secret meeting with his boss. That’s the way he’s been since his days as a draftee in military school, when “he was shy and wearing puffy pants.” He arrived by car from the barracks, because General Maciuca cannot stand the train ever since he “hated pretty widows…/The towns with B, the railway/And doctors past 40.”

The wind blows hard through the wide-open windows, but General Maciuca bears it, just like he used to bear the desert storms that filled his mouth with sand through Iraq or Afghanistan, when he kept in touch with the sacrificial battalions for the sake of the gentle Americans, led through the sleepless eye of Uncle Sam’s satellite. There in the desert he would congratulate the soldiers of the battalions that had crossed not only the Carpathians, but also the seas, lands and deserts of the world, to keep the American soldier company until the hurried retreat in shorts and tights, however they managed to flee. Not to get caught by the enemy and be whipped for the lack of beards and illegal wearing of jeans. Of course, this scurried retreat took place before the nap at the famous Glasgow summit.

Finding out that the climate was already changing and that the Scottish summit would take him by surprise, our Verrmorell said he had to recharge his batteries a little, especially since Carmina kept reproaching him that, since he’d been in charge of Cortocioaia, he hadn’t come to Transylvania to take her to a warm country, like to the pyramids. So she could see Tutankhamun herself. Said and done. He hurried to Egypt, but these bastards of journalists did not leave him alone here either. So he announced in the country to have that warm jacket sent. He had heard that it was cold in Glasgow and the wind was blowing hard from the sea. There was a risk of his arm freezing. He was scared not to catch a cold, so he inaugurated the conference room in his jacket. When he warmed up, he placed it nicely on the table in sight, so that Joel Bideny would not “borrow” it for a more comfortable sleep.

Now, our president didn’t quite get much from the Glasgow summit:

• The gradual elimination of coal: he agrees to get rid of the miners, because they can come upon him just when the presidency is comfier.
• Reducing deforestation: Verrmorell has already solved it. He completed the five-year deforestation plan in just four and a half years.
• Switching to electric vehicles: here he is waiting for the others to be done first, so he can buy second-hand from Germany and wherever else possible.