Sitting in his hotel room, near the Nuremberg spaceport, Wilfred tries to wind down after a long day. Having spent two weeks mired in negotiations with the local authorities about ferrying some Nuremberg refugees to New Berlin, on a standard cargo hauler without passenger accommodations, and the last couple of days talking with some seedier elements about simply smuggling some refugees out, he is not in the best of moods.
And then the newscast comes on. Wilfred listens to it with a stone-faced expression. He draws a deep breath, and lets out a sound that's somewhere halfway between a loud sigh and a grumble.
"But for crying out loud..." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "What's wrong with these people?" he asks no-one in particular.
He turns off the newscast and tries to get comfortable on the bed. He suspects it will be some time before he falls asleep.
A quote from Shakespeare(*) comes to his mind, not for the first time:
