The rain was falling in a fine, drizzling veil.
The sky was not exactly overcast; this threadlike rain would soon come to an end, and perhaps before long the clouds would clear. The wet bluestone path reflected the shadows of those passing by, and the gate of the cemetery let out a faint groan in the cold wind.
People stood in twos and threes, hems of black clothing swaying in the wind. Every now and then a muffled sob would sound from some corner, only to be quickly cut off by a dry cough.
The funeral was not held ostentatiously, yet here gathered representatives of the World Government and the major corporations, many prominent figures attending in person. They had all come here of their own accord, now exchanging a few words in low voices, now lifting their heads to meet one another's gaze, a solemn atmosphere spreading outwards.
This was the Secretary-General's funeral.
