She was running late.  Her first truly important duty since her old friend and political sparring partner, Yena, had appointed her to the role of Sityara Jukhirs Evendem, Angel of Foreign Affairs, and Sirea Fasya-Arkhando was in serious danger of ruining it because her stupid hair straightener wouldn't heat up on time.  She wondered if that was all part of the patriarchal system that she and Yena had been working hard to overthrow for the last ten years, but another glance at her watch told her she didn't have time to indulge such a luxurious line of thought.  The video conference was due to start in less than ten minutes and she was only just hopping out of her government-issue limousine and dashing up the polished red granite steps of the Mena Parlid, the Temple of Government.  She still had to navigate her way through the various security checkpoints and the labyrinthine passageways that lay beyond with, hopefully, enough time to spare to settle into her seat, take a few calming breaths and somehow look like the competent, shrewd politician she was supposed to be.

She flashed her badge at the guard in the foyer, receiving a brief, "Welcome Sityara," which she honoured with a quick smile, before scurrying through the double doors into the public corridors and making her way to the next checkpoint, the one which separated the public areas from those only government officials could pass through.

Five minutes later and she was pushing her way through the heavy mahogany door of the Court of Foreign Affairs' VC chamber to be greeted by sighs of relief from the technical staff and the panicked smiles of her assistant, Tesa Yena-Adaro, and of the Trade Secretary, Durro Edea-Cujero, who expression also managed to convey just a note of condescension.  She would have to speak to him about that later.  Also sitting at the table was Anturo Syarkha-Sicaro, the man lined up to be ambassador to the Anarcho-Pacifist Technocracy of Hammerstar should initial negotiations go as well as hoped for.  His smile was calm and trusting and she felt confident that she had chosen him well.

"Technical difficulties," she said by way of explanation, only just managing to avoid sounding out of breath as she added, "sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not a problem at all," the Trade Secretary replied dryly, "it's not like this is an important diplomatic meeting".

Sirea shot him a warning glance.

"Please take your seat, Sityara," gestured one of the technicians in a rather dismissive manner.  Sirea thought his name might have been Roalwo, in which case it didn't suit him.  Regardless she obeyed his directions and took her place around the conference table.  The screen before her showed the time remaining until the meeting was due to start.  Less than a minute.  She breathed in through her nose and slowly out through a mouth a few times, flicked a strand of hair out from her eyes and placed her hands calmly in front of her.  The message on the screen said 'connecting in 5... 4... 3... 2...'.  She realised she was holding her breath again, breathed out, smiled.

'Video Conference Live.'