Simon Parmeter could not believe his luck. As he stared out onto the truly spectacular vista laid out before him he tried not to congratulate himself inwardly too fulsomely for a job very well done. He had just finished a conversation with a senior member of government, naturally it was all in the utmost confidence and it seemed as if all his hard work over the last decade was about to come to fruition. Sizewell D would in fact be built. He had assurances and if they were not signed in blood they might as well have been. There was no way the execution of the plans he had staked his professional reputation upon was not going to come to pass, he was certain now: if it was a secret now it soon wouldn’t be. He knew better than to relay the news to his colleagues who were bound to immediately to tell all to extended family and friends. They might as well paper the walls with it, well they would be able to soon enough. There was no way this could be construed in any way as low-key. His mind wandered back to his under-graduate days and he smiled wryly at the memory of the dean of studies who had sent him back to the Midlands without a degree in electrical engineering. How they had laughed at the tyre factory where he worked for three full summers and he struggled on the PhD he would never finish. He had always been at logger heads with any one in any position of authority. Now his single mindedness was about to pay off.
He honestly couldn’t remember the substance of much of his thesis, but one illumination from his failed stab at scholarship had burned bright and consistently. The world’s pressing need for power, cheap and reliable power at that. It had lost him friends and produced two divorces as well as social ostracisation. He was out of step with the times and he was just sensitive enough to mind - a bit.