Perfectly Unpredictable Read Free Page A

fluffy
comforter covering a king-sized bed, complete with a square of dark chocolate in
a shiny wrapper. She’d save that for the next day, too.
    Kalia changed into pajamas, threw open the bedroom
window to the courtyard below, and crawled into bed. The fatigue of the travel
and the change in time zone finally overcame the excitement, and she let the
sounds of the day beginning in Nice lull her to sleep.

 
     
    On the first morning of the conference,
Kalia was up early and dressed in a navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt. She
added a silver pendant and smoothed her hair into a neat chignon. She stowed
her computer in her leather briefcase and, after checking her make-up, headed
out.
    The aroma of freshly baked goods mingled
with the crisp morning air on the short walk to the conference center.The exterior of the elegant building had old
world charm, with intricate stone carving and fussy wrought iron balconies. Behind
the front doors, the grandeur was a surprise.
    A wide curved staircase across from the
main entrance led down one flight to a modern amphitheater. Inside, comfortable
chairs swiveled to allow for smaller groupings, clever dividers created sectioned-off
areas, three large screens graced the front, and each chair had specialized
audiovisual equipment. State-of-the-art, top-of-the-line engineering. They had
obviously paid special attention to the acoustics with the design of the
seating and the use of layered wood on the curved walls and ceiling. Despite
the large number of people animatedly greeting one another, the room was quiet.
    Kalia spotted a group of official-looking
people with clipboards at the front of the amphitheater, so she made her way
over. She introduced herself and, with wide smiles, they each pumped her hand
enthusiastically. Maurice Bastille’s assistant, Giselle, showed her the sound
booth and explained how the conference would unfold.
    All of the talks would be offered in
English. In the past, speakers of the international community had muddled
through, sometimes with heavy hard-to-understand accents. This year, for the
first time, each guest speaker would present the lecture in the language of their
choice and Kalia would interpret. Her version would be simultaneously broadcast,
and participants could choose which version to listen to through their headsets.
    In addition to the three large group
lectures each day, smaller workshops would be recorded and translated at a
later date. These ranged from clinical case discussions to research project
presentations, and from hands-on technical skill sessions to clinical standards
consensus groups.
    The keynote address, scheduled for the last
day, was causing the most buzz. Dr. Alexandre Sinclair was presenting his
latest research. He was also hosting two workshops, and after a meeting the
night before, the organizers were scrambling to change to a bigger venue
because of the unexpected draw.
    The room slowly filled until most of the seats
were taken. Maurice took to the podium and officially welcomed everyone to the
forum.
    With the introductions complete, Kalia took
her place at the back of the room in the sound booth. She adjusted her earpiece
and tuned in to the speaker. Concentrating, she focused on the cadence and rhythm
of the Spanish presenter, and the translation flowed. The second lecture in
German was much easier. Thank you, Pappa.
    The first two hours flew by. As the group
scattered to the workshops, Kalia lingered to answer questions and make adjustments
to her equipment. She thought that keeping the eight hundred or so registrants
in line and on time with their assigned workshops would be a logistical
nightmare, but an army of volunteers kept things moving smoothly.
    She spent time reviewing the afternoon
lecture and then headed to the grand ballroom for lunch.
    The ballroom was bright and airy, with a
wall of glass and a high-vaulted ceiling. French doors were thrown open, and a
warm autumn breeze stirred the air. Circular