"She does not even have a string section."
The Board President swirled his vintage champagne. He sat in the opulent primary balcony of the Royal Grand Opera House.
Fifty proxy executives from the Elysium Summit occupied the surrounding velvet VIP boxes. They wore bespoke tuxedos and imported diamonds. They were billionaires waiting to collect a deed.
Down on the main floor three thousand members of the metropolitan high society settled into their plush seats. The ambient noise of the crowd was a wealthy arrogant hum.
They did not come to hear a classical masterpiece. They came to witness a public execution.
"The medical incompetency transfer executes at midnight," a Geneva envoy noted from the adjacent box.
"She will c***k on the first measure," the Board President promised loudly. "
