In the station lounge, Charlie looked at the empty room and the four people inside it. Somewhat curiously, she asked, "Are there only four of you?"
The sales representative who had been speaking with her smiled. "What are you worried about?"
Charlie did not hesitate. She was a "customer" now. She had paid, and she knew that she had spent several times more than a normal order would cost. After paying that much, she was not going to wrong herself.
Her forceful attitude began to rise again within safe limits. She looked at the sales representative. "I don't think you can protect me if there are only four of you."
The sales representative glanced around. "Please rest assured. We're professionals..."
At the same time, in the conference room of the International Affairs Department in Bu Peien, Mr. Truman curled his fingers and rapped his knuckles twice against the tabletop. He reiterated, "Everyone, please rest assured. We're professionals!"
He paused, then looked at the gentlemen in the room. This was the sixth round of talks concerning the "World Development Committee." Gefra had not stepped forward to slow the process, but that did not mean they would do nothing.
They might have reached certain agreements with some countries behind the scenes, raised some objections, and brought up some issues that needed to be resolved, all in an attempt to give the Federation more work.
In truth, the countries themselves, the Federal Government, and Mr. Truman all knew that these ugly little tricks were completely useless.
It would pass in the end, but as for making things disgusting... that was not merely a kind of malicious amusement. What it truly satisfied was the psychological need of the "victim."
It sounded somewhat difficult to understand. What psychological needs could victims have? In fact, they