Intent

“Where’s the Engineer?” asks Vice-President of information manipulation Leo Halbreth.

“Late. He’s always late,” says Chief Strategist Aurelion, “How are you not yet used to that?”

Leo appears to think for a moment and chooses to look overly irritated instead of replying.

“Thought engineer Zhao will arrive in approximately forty-six seconds,” chimes in from the overhead speakers.

At the head of the table sits a stout man in a plain suit. His brown hair is parted on the left and lies so flat it somehow adds to his stoutness. His right eye is closed. When the meeting starts it will switch.