Something Must Be Done “I heard mention of this BBC report on training schools being run in PoK, include that as well, no?” QD looked up from the file he was frowningly reading through and nodded to the gentleman seated to his left – my right – at the table. The man made a note on his pad, the page more than half-full already. QD went back to perusing the file, and I to ruminating. After a minute or so, the note-taker spun his chair about to face his computer, and started typing. QD continued turning the pages, making small annotations here and there. I sat and thought. It took another ten-fifteen minutes for him to finish. At the sound of the heavy flap of the manila folder closing, the note-taker spun his seat around to face the still open pad, and picked up his pen. “We’re good to go, almost.” “Almost?” “Yes, almost. Apart from the few usual typos, the file” – he tapped lightly on the one he’d been reading – “is perfect. Now the typos I can handle, the rest is up to you. Shall ...