"The Arbitrator (unfinished) (2002)" by Maya R. Hirschman

Dr. Franks was the first to look up, grey-streaked bangs sliding across her
lined forehead.  Seconds later, the entire council had their heads tilted
and necks craned in order to look up through the wide plate glass windows. 
A great drumming filled the air as a massive helicraft hovered into view,
the conference room on the sixty-seventh floor vibrating as the rotors cut
violently through the smog.  Dr. Kang, black haired and bespectacled,
tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, eyes never leaving the chopper, his mouth
thin with tension. He was not the only one that showed a hint of anxiety,
indeed, most of the assembled group fidgeted or frowned.  A voice broke
through the thunder of the helicraft as it lifted out of their field of view.




"He's here."



All eyes snapped back to the speaker, a short, thick man with limp blond
hair and narrow dark eyes that gave him a weasely cast.  Mumbled agreement
and a nodding of heads followed his announcement as the council feigned attention. 
Professor Choral leaned sideways in her chair bringing her mouth nearer to
the ear of Dr. Kang.  "And there was much rejoicing," was her whisper. 
Dr. Kang managed a slip of a smile and turned his gaze toward the heavy pair
of grey doors through which the arrival would come.  As they waited,
they managed to avoid each others' eyes, none wanting to be caught examining
their colleagues, none wanting to show the edge of their nerves.  Yet,
they were all quite aware of each other and the room radiated an electric
buzz powered by their anxiety.



There were nine of them, each a specialist in his or her field, each representing
a particular interest held by their particular country, and for the most
part, none of them could get along.  Rather, none of them could get
along in a professional manner; personally, many of them had developed friendships
based on their intellectual debates.  Now they waited for the arbitrator
to arrive and force them into a consensus.  Sitting at the head of the
table, the blond weasel, was Prof. Len Niznit.  He sat at the head because
it was he that was chairing this particular meeting.  It was he that
had broken the news of the arbitrator's coming.  Currently, no one was
particularly pleased with Niznit.



To his left, leaned as far from him as politely possible, sat Dr. N'Doch
Alfonse, a wiry man with a wreathe of grey hair that circled his dark head. 
Beside him sat Dr. Penny Franks, her own grey hair swept back in a severe
bun, only her bangs softening her hard face.  Mr. Sam Vogel, a lanky
man with curling brown hair and glasses, sat between Dr. Franks and Dr. Errol
Kang.  Prof. Amanda Choral was the youngest member at a mere thirty-one
years of age, her light brown hair falling straight to her shoulders. 
Out of his chair and pacing was Mr. Jan Coekbakker, his long, robotically
enhanced fingers combing his short blond hair with worry.  Between him
and Niznit leaned Dr. Yuki Toyama-Gonsalves, a petite, round-faced woman
that quietly chewed her nails.



"You didn't have to contact the arbitrator," charged Prof. Franks, not for
the first time, gaze turned accusingly to Niznit who answered with a shrug,
again, not for the first time.



"It's too late to do anything about it now," replied Mr. Coekbakker with
a grimace.



"This from the one who's pacing a rut in the carpet?"



"Yes, Yuki, it can only improve its weave," answered Coekbakker with a nervous
chuckle.  Niznit sulked in his chair, staring at his hands and everyone
fell silent once again.



It seemed an interminably long time before the arbitrator arrived, the heavy
doors sliding aside as the hydraulics groaned to life.  Backlit by the
flickering fluorescent lights in the hall, the arbitrator stood in the doorway,
a broad, tall, hulking silhouette that was flanked by two smaller figures,
both short even for human standards.  The council sat absolutely still
as the enormous figure moved into the room, its heavy metal boots clanking
leaden upon the floor.  It settled into the corner, joints seizing up
with a slight hiss as it became quite immobile.  The pair of figures
came through behind it and silently joined it in the corner, arms crossed
before them.



The arbitrator, a last ditch attempt in any bargaining situation, once a
neutral party that facilitated discussion, now was an unfeeling mechanical
beast with its only intent: total agreement.  By any means necessary. 
Usually its presence was enough to force any disagreeing parties to a hasty
conclusion.  It gleamed like tarnished silver, cylinders and tubes that
came together in a rough approximation of an humanoid figure.  It was
faceless, though where its head should have been was a half sphere of black
integraglass, an unbreakable glass composite beneath which were housed the
machine’s many sensors.  Its aides, as they were often called, were
there to ensure no tampering, no pleading, no chance of human error, as they
were not human themselves.  Slight of build, wiry and quick, these were
the Kimmari.  An ancient race, long hidden in the forsaken places of
the world, but driven to uncloset themselves as humanity encroached. 
Once considered among the fey people, they did not retreat into the mists
like so many of their brethren.  They came out and found they had special
talent with electronics and robotics.  Not hampered by sentimental attachments
or strong emotional reactions, and harboring a distaste and powerful distrust
of humans, aiding the arbitrators came to them naturally.