Seventeen SeventeenPresident Klens sat behind her desk, trying to read the reports that had been brought to her. Seth Michaels and the First Councilman of the western region, Donald Humphries, stood before her. She had summoned a meeting with both of them in her Los Angeles residence. Despite her efforts, riots continued to spring up.
Music flowed in from the open window as people marched in the streets.
Fires burning.
Children crying.
The Lady stands alone.
“What is that inferno song?” demanded President Klens.
“It is one of the songs from the rebellion. It is also the song that the protesters of 11 years ago sang,” replied Seth Michaels.
“Well shut that window,” snapped President Klens. “I want a stop put to it.”
“Protest?” said Donald.
“Yes,” replied Seth Michaels. “Dana Ginary’s grandfather was part of that gathering. She was there too.”
“Oh, that poor girl. To witness such horror at such a young—” Donald Humphries stopped speaking when he noticed the irate expression on President Klens’ face.
“Sorry, Madam President,” he apologized.
“How did you ever get the position of First Councilman?” President Klens asked him.
“It was given to me,” he replied, “after my father died and vacated the seat.”
“You are aware that you can be replaced at any time?”
Donald Humphries tugged at his collar as sweat formed on his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And as for the riots in the eastern region,” continued President Klens, “how are you dealing with them?”
“Madam President, the moment we put one down, another springs up,” said Seth Michaels.
“I don’t want excuses!” President Klens shrill voice rattled the walls. “And as for that little wretch, I want her dead!”
President Klens walked over to a window and looked out. A line of people openly marched in front of her house, carrying a poster with Dana’s picture while singing their song. “Why do they follow her?”
“Because she gives them hope,” said Seth Michaels.
“Hope?”
“She openly defied you, and defied our government.”
“She took your little plan,” said President Klens, “and slapped you in the face with it.”
“The more we broadcast those fals—I mean, reports about her, the more the people disbelieve them,” said Donald Humphries.
“I want her destroyed. I want her found!”
“You won’t need to find her,” Colonel Fernau entered the room, “She will come to us.”
“Colonel Fernau,” said President Klens with surprise, “I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Silence has its uses,” replied Colonel Fernau in a silky tone.
“What do you have in mind?” asked President Klens.
“There are many small settlements in the wastelands. They are tiny and primitive, but they are able to receive many of our broadcasts. I suggest we air a message. One that only she will understand, but will force her to come back to Dystopia.”
“Are you certain that she will take the bait?” asked the president.
“Oh, I’m sure she will,” said Colonel Fernau with a malicious smile.
“And as for that crowd,” said President Klens, pointing at those marching in the street.
“Already taken care of,” said Colonel Fernau.
President Klens looked back out the window as armed officers marched into the streets. They raised their weapons and opened fire. Terrified screams rose up from below as people darted in every direction. Gunfire continued to pummel them until only silence remained.
President Klens smiled to herself as she turned back to the men within her office. “You gentlemen are dismissed.”
Seth Michaels and Donald Humphries nodded and left.
“Oh, Colonel,” said President Klens, “I think it’s time we have a new First Councilman for the western region.”
Colonel Fernau saluted. He marched out of the office and into the hallway. “Mr. Humphries,” he said as he put an arm around the man, “might I have a word with you?”
“Yes, Colonel,” said Donald Humphries. “What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering how you would handle a stressful situation.” Colonel Fernau led the man to a balcony.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, for instance, how would you deal with this?”
Colonel Fernau pushed Donald Humphries over the rail. He reveled in the man’s screams until they came to an abrupt end with a sickening thud. He peered over the railing at the bloodied corpse below.
“Not very well at all.”
The voice of a lone woman caught his attention. He looked up at her as she cradled a man in her arms and sang. He didn’t know where the song had come from, but he listened to it anyway.
People are we
who just wish to live free.
Lives that should be our own,
yet the Nanny won’t leave us alone.
Terrorists we are branded.
Rights we aren’t granted.
Our mouths have been sealed
so that truth will ne’er be revealed.
Character is our identity
not a group’s anonymity.
Our choice our responsibility.
But robbed we are of liberty.
Curse me; hate me if you will.
My voice shall never be stilled.
Spout your lies. Tarnish my name.
Your hands bear evil’s stain.
The woman stared defiantly at Colonel Fernau when she sang the last line. They locked eyes for a moment. Determined will filled her eyes as she looked at him.
Callously, Colonel Fernau pulled out his gun and shot her. One less piece of garbage. He holstered his weapon and went back inside.