Alexi takes
the last drag on his cigarette, enjoying looking out over the clouds that the
UN helicarrier is hovering above. He wishes he could go for a walk that's a
little more interesting than circling the break room two dozen times and hoping
that his imagination can conjure up something prettier than a single tree or
the dull grey composite material of the walls - but him and all of the other representatives
are being kept in the enormous primary conference room, the break room, or the
guest bunk rooms and restrooms connected to the conference room.
For security
reasons, they say. The fact that they're this worried about security on a UN
helicarrier staffed entirely by UN troops just reminds him exactly how serious
the issue they're all dealing with is. It's incredible that they're all even
present, with how World War Three has been going. The firebombing of New York
City and Washington DC was bad enough, and then the orbital platform strike on
Bejing and the Ion Cannon Bombardment on Moscow was…
Well.
Too many
people have died, too much money has
been spent and too many civilians have been harmed. Even France took some heavy
hits in the last few months. But the cease fire is holding, everyone is in
agreement…
Something
has to give, or the world is going to die in nuclear fire.
He turns and
looks at the other people present. The African representatives look exhausted.
The French look stressed. The Germans just look grave and vaguely fearful. The
other Russian representative looks… well, beautiful as always.
Even when tired,
and when her hair is a damn mess, she's got a face like an angel and a body
that her rumpled skirt suit doesn’t do justice to. Even so, she's clearly
reaching the end of her rope. But the plan has been drawn. It's been made up.
Everything is coming to fruition and the peace necessary is finally going to be
reached.
At a cost.
At a terrible cost.
But one that
will be paid by few instead of by the many.
The End of
Days Prevention Agreement cometh.
He sighs
heavily and leaves the cigarette smoldering in the ash tray, heads for the
men's restroom. The floor makes a noise when walking, a noise that too is a
reminder that the entire massive place is high in the air hovering on massive
rotors and making use of the Zeig-Randonston Gravity Reduction Conduits that
run in all of the walls. With a weight of less than zero and the effect of
reducing the effective weight of things around them when a strong currant is
run through them… all that Alexi has to hope for is that the nuclear reactors
don't fail or that they don't run out of fuel for the rotors.
The bathroom
door creaks when he opens it, a sound he hates after hearing it for two weeks. He turns and rests his hands on the counter,
staring exhaustedly at himself. His watery blue eyes are ringed with red and
slightly bloodshot, his beard is no longer well trimmed but is instead long and
scraggly. There are dark circles under his eyes, impressively dark. His lips
are dry and cracked from lack of chap stick and the dry processed air of the
carrier.
He sighs and
tries to straighten his rumpled tie, smooth out his wrinkled button down. Today
is the day that months of preparation come to fruition.
The End of
Days can never come.
He emerges
from the bathroom and his fellow Russian representative hands him a bottle of
ginger ale and gives him a tired smile. He cracks the bottle open and downs it,
taking his seat near the head of the table. The UN chairman finished reviewing
all of the terms and rules of the agreement, what everyone would get in the
event of victory or draw..
Complexity.
But it will
work.
It has to work.
And the
world, disgusting might it be, will watch with popcorn buckets in their laps
and their eyes glued to the screen, because one of the only ways to placate the
human need for self destruction is to show them their own avatars destroying
each other on the field of battle. Construction of the grand arena will begin
immediately, once the agreement is made.
He rests his
hands on the smooth wood of the table and starts actually listening.
"… so
there will be twenty years from January 1st, 2029, for all of the
countries to construct their armies. A lot will be allowed in the construction
for… for entertainment purposes. This is what the world has come to, and total
transparency is the name of the game, loathe as I am to call it a game. Are we
all in agreement?"
Everyone in
the room nods slowly.
They have to
sign. The document is passed around, actual paper. Each and every person has to
sign their name. Blood and hair samples are taken. Everything is finalized.
They all form up then, standing before a camera. The waiting is excruciating,
waiting for the feed to go live, for the broadcast to be set up.
And then the
chairman speaks.
He tells the
world what is coming. He tells them that the armies will be built and trained,
that the grand battlefield will be constructed. Every century, the world will
watch as those countries who wish to do battle build their armies. Every
century, the world will watch as those armies battle to the death until the
victor is determined, or the victors in the unlikely event of a draw. In this
way, the world will not see nuclear war, because all involved countries have
agreed to decom their weapons.
This, he
says, is the future of warfare brought by fear and need.
When it
ends, and the cameras are off, everyone slumps. Alexi returns to the break room,
staring out the porthole again. The world is going to get peace, but he just
helped make the decision to send many people to their deaths for the amusement
of the world.
It's a
tough, ugly pill to swallow.
It appeals
to the worst parts of humanity.
It was…
necessary.
He figures
if he tells himself that, he might be able to sleep at night.
