The evening sun was still warm in the conservatory when the news came onto the radio. Edward was sitting in his favourite chair, which was positioned so he could look out at his lawns and flowerbeds. A slow, deep male voice filled the room.

The crisis at the National Library has deepened considerably with the loss today of the entire ancient literature collection, as well as several important smaller collections and the library staff kitchen. From our correspondent on location, this report.

A female voice, still serious, but more excited, followed.

The scenes are increasingly desperate. The mould that broke out among the periodicals last year is spreading uncontrollably and claiming new victims all the time. Today the ancient literature collection, a collection of international importance, was found to have decomposed, with scholars and specialists working flat out to salvage what they can from the remains. In addition, we have reports that the mould has contaminated the structure of the building, causing a staff kitchen area to collapse, leaving behind a pile of rubble and broken crockery. Members of staff are expected set up a temporary kettle in a portacabin, a safe distance from outbreak, once the appropriate authority has been established.

Edward saw that the poppies and snapdragons were flowering and wondered whether they had come out even earlier than last year.

An appointment to the Distinguished Subcommittee for Omniphone Curriculum Design has been announced. Professor Lord Nigel Molgrain will take over from the Esteemed and Fondly Remembered Nicholas Ping with immediate effect. Previously, P.L. Molgrain was Professor of Musical Pedagogy at the Technical Institute, where he will remain Emeritus Professor.

Except for the crisis at the National Library, such an announcement would have been the first item in the bulletin. Edward listened to the Professor’s brief biography and noted the times of a series of feature programmes being run on him. The last time a new member joined the committee, fourteen years ago, just after they had moved to the neighbourhood, Edward's wife had organised a street party. Fourteen years before that, Edward was in school, still doing his own Omniphone lessons.

All school children learnt the Omniphone up to the age of fourteen. You might not be familiar with the instrument, so I’ll outline its main components. The largest part was vertical concertina attached to heavy base. The musician produced noise by exercising the concertina and controlled the volume by blowing into a flexible pipe attached to the top. The pitch and mood of the instrument were adjusted with a series of disks of different sizes and shapes with removable pins for accurate tuning. A console housing levers and switches added further modulation. Finally, a system of foot pedals allowed the musician to hold notes and create harmonies. These components provided the Omniphone's controls, but, as the Committee stressed, playing the instrument was much more than a technical matter.

Three times each week, Edward would fetch one of the school’s Omniphones from the store room and take it to the musical cubicles, where he had his lesson. Many of the children from richer families owned beautiful versions, panelled in traditional oiled walnut and equipped with wheels for ease of transportation. The school’s Omniphones were housed in moulded plastic with no such conveniences and he had many memories of hauling it around. Inside the musical cubicle there was a desk, with just enough space to assemble the instrument, and a series of textbooks, piled under the desk, from which Edward took his lessons.

Things had moved on a lot since those days, of course. The textbooks must have advanced beyond recognition and students must be achieving levels never previously possible. No doubt Molgrain and his colleagues were developing ever better textbooks at that very moment.

Edward did well in the exam. Well enough to get him where he had got to. Some of his friends had achieved very high marks and a couple had achieved grades sufficient for a career on the Committee’s staff. Edward didn’t have their talent. He was content with his performance.

The big day was in June, shortly before Edward’s fifteenth birthday. Pupils that were not sitting the exam were given the day off. Teachers were aware that nerves could cripple even the most competent student and took care to be kind. Edward was the second in his class to take the exam. He was waiting in the large school hall with the rest of his class when the head teacher called out his name. He stood up, straightened his jacket and tie, walked through the hall and exited via the main door. He turned right, walked up three shallow steps and turned left into a long corridor, which was empty and silent. Every other time Edward had walked down this corridor, it had been full of noisy students. He walked past three classrooms and reached a door that he had not been through before. This room was reserved for musical exams and used once a year. The light above the door was red.

After a short wait, the light turned green with a click of a relay. Edward held in his breath and opened the door. The room was large, it seemed, but the light was uneven and dim in some corners and the exact size was difficult to determine. In the centre of the room was a table bearing an assembled Omniphone. The textbooks gave detailed accounts of how the room would be laid out and Edward knew what to expect. The examiner himself was standing on a small stool near the back of the room, several metres behind the table. He was wearing traditional long thick woven silk robes, with wide dark grey and red vertical stripes. He was facing the wall, and Edward could see the profile of his mask, moustache, and long waxed beard, which extended below his waist and then curled up in a series of twists and curls. The textbooks had explained the examiner’s attire as well. Edward sat at the table and played the Omniphone. It was the first time anyone else had heard him play it, and the last time he would play the instrument.

Edward noticed that his wife was standing in the conservatory trying to get his attention. He held his finger up to let her know he would be with her presently. The item on the Committee appointment ended and the next item was about sport.

The cup tie this afternoon between the capital’s two top teams ended acrimoniously when…

Edward was not interested and he put his finger down and turned to his wife, who wanted to ask him a question.

‘Darling, would you mind going to the shop before dinner? I need a head of garlic and an old fish. I’m going to try a recipe they showed on TV...’ She trailed off.

‘Dear, I can’t tonight! It’s my discussion group tomorrow and I’m setting the topic. I really need work on it.’ He had been working on the topic all afternoon. The current formulation was ‘Our broken society is failing those most in need. The only way of mending it is to re-establish family values.’ It wasn’t right. He looked at his wife.

‘Yes – of course you are.’ She smiled at him. ‘I can go. I’ll get dinner ready.’ Edward smiled back at her. The news continued.

The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the Rt. Hon. George Paul, has denounced the actions of General Turquiz, who is taking legislative action to further embed the system of food allocation that he has established during his premiership. Through the system, higher value food, such as strawberries and the country’s prized sheep cheese, is reserved for families that build up credit over generations, through allegiance and taxes. Families with less credit are restricted to lower value food, like yams and wheat paste.

Edward was disgusted at the sheer feudalism of the system and forgot about the discussion group. He did not see himself as an activist, and you probably wouldn’t either, but he was seriously considering writing to the Foreign Secretary to insist that he apply stronger pressure on the General. It was the duty of those in a privileged society like Edward’s, where anyone with motivation and wherewithal can make it to the top, to think about those less fortunate. Patches of the letter were already composed in his head.