【Interlude】S01E00.5 ……
ghtly iosing observer of this yet-to-be-filled power vacuu Sir had worked our sll seded teato the bone for the past two days to get even this basic shell of a departnt in place. The efficy was staggering, but so was the exhaustion.
As instructed, I explaihe reason for the spartan decor aio could be adjusted to his liking. The Minister''''s gaze swept the roo assessing and intrigued. He had no airs, which was a relief. His only specific request was for a large wipe- board in the ety space by his desk. Did this suggest he was a visual thinker? A n of a? I agreed iediately. He was tent for the rest to be ''''arranged acc to standard practice'''', so not a n to fuss over details, which was good.
When I ca to the two doors, I opehe annex and explais purpose. But at the d to the Per Secretary''''s office, I paused, stating its fun without opening it. The Minister''''s quip, "Lunchti?", was clearly a probe. I had to steel self and explain that Sir was colleg his forl instrunt of appoirue enough, but it felt like king an excuse for superior''''s absence.
The issue of his title was trickier. When the Minister pressed, "Is it Sir? Or Sir Alistair?", I khere was no avoiding it. I y words carefully, but even so, I found self shifting onto the balls of feet, nervous that Sir would find out I''''d used the ''''Lord'''' prefix, even iext of explaining his dislike for it.
And then… the door opened. Sir was standing there, holding a thin dot, his platinublonde hair iaculate, the charcoal herringbohree-piece suit looking as if it were ulded to hi The faint winter light frothe corridor window behind hioutlined his figure in a cool silhouette. I froze. Not because of his arrival, but because of the word that escaped the Minister''''s lips:
"Victor?"
Victor? Where did that e fro
Sir gave the slightest of nods—the signal. I uood at once, held breath, and tried to shrink into the background, heart haering against ribs.
What followed was like a ticulously chraphed play that had spuely out of trol. The Minister''''s shock, his fury at being deceived, a volley of questions hurled at Sir. He called Sir '''' dear Observer'''', '''' dear Lord'''', ''''Lord dish'''', his words laced with gunpowder and sarcas
Sir''''s defence was watertight. He parried the attacks with that exquisite tautology of "Protocol is the protocol that ehe red tape is correct...", his posture as elegant as if he were engaged in a high-nded debate, yet every syllable silently drew a boundary of power.
He elevated the Minister''''s role as ''''heln'''' while defining the civil servant''''s role as a ''''necessary part'''' ensuring the carriage stays on its path. Every sentence was ieccable, yet eae built another bri the invisible wall betweehe phrase "Minister and is Civil Service writ" sounded like absolute obedience, but in that atsphere, it carried the chill raatic distance.
When the Minister angrily deo know if the departnt was a ''''gilded cage'''', sothing flickered in the depths of Sir''''s grey-green eyes, so fleeting I alst thought I''''d igi. He skilfully sidestepped a direswer, instead redefining the departnt''''s purpose as ''''Subtle trol''''. The shackles of bureaucracy were repackaged as the art of harny; political exile was beautified as a tre-stage showcase. He had sterfully redirected the Minister''''s personal anger into a question of authority.
And when the Minister sarcastically suggested his authority ght extend only to a whiteboard, Sir produced the draft schedule. The first ite ''''Finalise & Execute: Ministerial Office Layout Adjustnt - Ite & Installation of Wipe- Board & Accessories. By 14:00.''''
I uood, for the first ti, the true aning of pre-etion. It wasn''''t a display of brilliance, but ahetic of donance, pressing uainty into the certainty of fait apli.
Before the Minister had eve foot in the office, before he had even de his request t
As instructed, I explaihe reason for the spartan decor aio could be adjusted to his liking. The Minister''''s gaze swept the roo assessing and intrigued. He had no airs, which was a relief. His only specific request was for a large wipe- board in the ety space by his desk. Did this suggest he was a visual thinker? A n of a? I agreed iediately. He was tent for the rest to be ''''arranged acc to standard practice'''', so not a n to fuss over details, which was good.
When I ca to the two doors, I opehe annex and explais purpose. But at the d to the Per Secretary''''s office, I paused, stating its fun without opening it. The Minister''''s quip, "Lunchti?", was clearly a probe. I had to steel self and explain that Sir was colleg his forl instrunt of appoirue enough, but it felt like king an excuse for superior''''s absence.
The issue of his title was trickier. When the Minister pressed, "Is it Sir? Or Sir Alistair?", I khere was no avoiding it. I y words carefully, but even so, I found self shifting onto the balls of feet, nervous that Sir would find out I''''d used the ''''Lord'''' prefix, even iext of explaining his dislike for it.
And then… the door opened. Sir was standing there, holding a thin dot, his platinublonde hair iaculate, the charcoal herringbohree-piece suit looking as if it were ulded to hi The faint winter light frothe corridor window behind hioutlined his figure in a cool silhouette. I froze. Not because of his arrival, but because of the word that escaped the Minister''''s lips:
"Victor?"
Victor? Where did that e fro
Sir gave the slightest of nods—the signal. I uood at once, held breath, and tried to shrink into the background, heart haering against ribs.
What followed was like a ticulously chraphed play that had spuely out of trol. The Minister''''s shock, his fury at being deceived, a volley of questions hurled at Sir. He called Sir '''' dear Observer'''', '''' dear Lord'''', ''''Lord dish'''', his words laced with gunpowder and sarcas
Sir''''s defence was watertight. He parried the attacks with that exquisite tautology of "Protocol is the protocol that ehe red tape is correct...", his posture as elegant as if he were engaged in a high-nded debate, yet every syllable silently drew a boundary of power.
He elevated the Minister''''s role as ''''heln'''' while defining the civil servant''''s role as a ''''necessary part'''' ensuring the carriage stays on its path. Every sentence was ieccable, yet eae built another bri the invisible wall betweehe phrase "Minister and is Civil Service writ" sounded like absolute obedience, but in that atsphere, it carried the chill raatic distance.
When the Minister angrily deo know if the departnt was a ''''gilded cage'''', sothing flickered in the depths of Sir''''s grey-green eyes, so fleeting I alst thought I''''d igi. He skilfully sidestepped a direswer, instead redefining the departnt''''s purpose as ''''Subtle trol''''. The shackles of bureaucracy were repackaged as the art of harny; political exile was beautified as a tre-stage showcase. He had sterfully redirected the Minister''''s personal anger into a question of authority.
And when the Minister sarcastically suggested his authority ght extend only to a whiteboard, Sir produced the draft schedule. The first ite ''''Finalise & Execute: Ministerial Office Layout Adjustnt - Ite & Installation of Wipe- Board & Accessories. By 14:00.''''
I uood, for the first ti, the true aning of pre-etion. It wasn''''t a display of brilliance, but ahetic of donance, pressing uainty into the certainty of fait apli.
Before the Minister had eve foot in the office, before he had even de his request t