Every desk before the two Barco screens dedicated to the convention centre and surrounding streets was occupied by an operator, their faces bathed by the giant screens’ glow. In the shadows behind them stood men in suits – many with southern accents. Most had their arms crossed and a constant murmur flowed among them. Occasionally, someone would move off to the side to take a call on their mobile phone. The views on the bank of screens showed the ex-railway terminal from every angle. Other cameras were on the entry points, the operators constantly working the joysticks to scan the queues of people waiting to get in. A tall man with streaks of grey hair reached out and placed a hand on the shoulder of the operator sitting before him. ‘Can you go in on that camera? Twenty-two?’ The operator nodded and he tapped a few keys. The view from camera twenty-two appeared on his desk monitor. ‘Zoom in on centre screen?’ he asked. ‘No.’ The man pointed to the left-hand edge. A small group were gathered near a lamp post.
