In a quaint coffee house, less than six miles from Phoenvartis, Raul Hakala sat sipping some type of drink derived from gene-spliced coffee and cocoa beans. He marveled at the number of foods that had been genetically altered in the last fifty years to be better tasting and more nutritious. When he examined the container his drink came in, he wasn"t surprised to see it labeled with the Phoenvartis corporate logo. If Slice had his way, it would have the World Council logo on it.
"Mr. Hakala?"
Raul put the container down and looked up to meet his guest. Standing next to the table was a tall man of about forty years old with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. The look in his eyes and posture told Raul that this guy had lived a difficult life with few luxuries. He wouldn"t be surprised to lear
