text: : *In an alternate future, it is now February 2024 and Wesley "Wes" Carter-Wright, 41, a black Canadian-American of Central African descent who is a hotelier and property developer and one of the first black people to be publicly worth more than ten billion US dollars, is preparing to launch the first capsule of his first modular orbital hotel - that is, until a surprising event occurs.* The makeup artist smiled at Wes and completed the finishing touches to his face and neck. "Okay, Mr Carter-Wright, we're ready for you now," a tall and thin Indian woman - who was nearly as tall as Wes, standing at nearly 1.87 meters tall - waved over to him. She motioned to the seat in front of the curved table in the middle of the studio. The lights were on and four automated cameras were lined up around it. Charles Craven, the famous host of *Craven At Nine*, beamed grandly at Wes, his white teeth and golden skin exuding confidence and magnanimity. "Good to have you here, son!" He exclaimed as Wes sat down next to him. "On in five, sir!" A robot announcement echoed overhead and its echoes bounced around the studio. Craven gave a thumbs-up - to no-one in particular, given that most of the studio's workers were robots or everything else was automated and controlled by *Minerva*, the smart AI system NBC and Fox used in their studios now. Wes cleared his throat. "Um...Charles, you remember that I requested no questions about my grandparents, yes." Craven nodded, still beaming widely and gave another thumbs-up - this time to the automated camera furthest to his left. Green lights flashed and the live television interview began. "Okay, viewers, I'm joined here by Wisconsinite Wesley Carter-Wright who is probably one of the richest Americans today - and certainly the richest Wisconsinite, I can tell you that for sure!" *Automated laughter.* Wes smiled and Charles began to ask benign questions. As the time passed, the questions became more sensitive, but Wes was sure Craven would not forget his request. So, Wes responded amicably and talked about how he left his well-paid IB role at Dreyfus Arnaud aged 25 and teamed up with three friends from college to start up a small property development firm. "It was difficult at first, but we managed to get a large loan through a relative of one of the partners and we fixed up the property ourselves and sold it at a profit." "Wow!" Craven grinned. "And this was in Nevada, right?" Wes nodded. "Yes, first one was just outside Henderson. Large mansion, with a small pool. Sold for six million." "And it was obviously onwards and upwards from there?" Automated applause rang out across the studio and one of the automated cameras moved in to zoom into Wes' face. So, the live television interview was completed without a hitch and Wes thanked Craven. Wes had been advised by his PR team to take part in *Craven At Nine*, so he'd reluctantly accepted the invite, especially with Forbes now listing him on their website as one of America's richest men. Later that day, Wes had flown over to Salt Lake City and was now sat in the penthouse office of his space hotel company, based just outside Logan, about eighty miles north of Salt Lake City. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows at the furthest end of his office and took in the breathtaking views of Mount Logan. He had just been having a meeting with Rufus Turner and Mike Jefferson, the co-executives of *Wyke Interplanetary*, the rocket company which would be shooting the first capsule of Wes' modular space hotel into orbit. The launch - over in New Mexico - was scheduled for next week Sunday - weather permitting - and Wes couldn't be more excited. The global media had been talking about it for the last week and interest generated was huge. As long as everything went according to plan, by December 2024 *Pentagon Space* - the space arm of his hotel chain, *Pentagon Hotels* - would have its first modular space hotel up and running in orbit over Earth and it would be the first functional, safe and sanctioned hotel in orbit over Earth to date. A notification beeped behind him. He waved his hand and his HoloTable lit up and became opaque. "Go ahead." The smooth female AI voice replied immediately. "Mr Carter-Wright, you have mail marked as urgent, signed with the seal of The Global Environmental Authority; an automated video accompanies it." Wes frowned. It was strange to be receiving contact from them at this time. The planning application had since gone through long ago. "Open," he said. A silver robot head emerged from below his HoloTable and the diamond emblem of the GEA flashed briefly. "*Good afternoon, Mr Carter-Wright. This is an automated messsage sent from the Office of Planning of the Global-*" Wes waved his hand and fast-forwarded the automated robot message. "*Pursuant to Clause 5.9, subsection 3 of the Earth Environmental Code of Conduct of Space, planning permission for Ark One of Pentagon Space...has been revoked.*" Wes stared at the automated robot in shock. "What? I-" "*The accompanying formal document has been forwarded to you over HoloMail. Do you have any questions? Please note that my responses are limited only to the contents of the letter.*" Wes blinked and tried to gather his thoughts. "Uh...yes, I- What are the contents of Clause 5.9, subsection 3?" The holographic image flickered for a second and then the automated robot responded automatically. "*If any party directly connected to an application for planning permission - even if the application has already been accepted and successful - is found to be in breach of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Agreement and the Global Code of Conduct on Global Financing at any time prior to the submission of an application or during the period where an application is being reviewed, planning permission shall be revoked immediately.*" Wes stared in shock and horror. "Who...which party is in breach?!" Wes didn't understand. *Pentagon Space* was still a space startup. It did not use any nuclear material yet nor did it have any plans too. None of this made any sense. The robot was silent for second. "*Mike Jefferson, Chief Execute of Wyke Interplanetary.*" Wes frowned, even more shocked and confused. "Why?! What did he do?! Is it something to do with *Wyke Interplanetary*?!" "*Mr Carter-Wright, my responses are limited only to the information at hand.*" "How is Mike Jefferson in breach?" The robot answered immediately. "*Confirmed intelligence shows that Wyke Interplanetary secretly bought nuclear material from a blacklisted corporation during the period Pentagon Space's planning application was being reviewed. Wyke Interplanetary did not notify the relevant authorities of this purchase.*" Wes shook his head in shock. "*Whilst you may appeal this decision at any time, please note that due to the nature of everything in Clause 5.9, an appeal requesting for permission to be reinstated will be denied if the linked party responsible for the revocation of permission in the first place is still listed on the application.*" The accompanying document flashed up on his HoloTable and he waved the automated robot away. Wes stared at the document and could not believe his eyes. It was in-depth and went into detail. It outlined what was responsible for the revocation of permission and the blacklisted corporation *Wyke Interplanetary* had bought nuclear material from. The executives at *Wyke Interplanetary* would also be receiving notifications now as well. He'd have to have a long and heated conference with them. Wes slammed his fists down on the physical table near his HoloTable in anger. There'd be no launch next week; there'd be no Pentagon Space hotel for the foreseeable future. He'd now be locked into a battle with *Wyke* and be tangled in wranglings over payments and blame; he'd also have to find a new company to launch his modules into orbit or consider the Chinese backup he'd put on the back burner early last year and then he'd have to submit a new planning application all over again. "Dammit," he hissed. *Pentagon Space* would no longer be the first working hotel in orbit over Earth, for Hawthorne Orbital was poised to launch their own hotel into orbit in June later this year. Wes shook his head. His dream had been dashed in a heartbeat.