Ready or Not

We both stand in silence, staring up at the television with nothing but perturbation written on our faces, except mine is a lot more subdued than Jasper’s – he’ll need to control himself, now isn’t the time to break. Ezri holds a laser gun, along with two soldiers by her side. Her hazy eyes smile, perhaps even dance in the moment, as she takes a few limped steps closer to the camera and continues speaking.

“I’ve had the patience of a saint with you, Mr. President, though I suppose that title is ‘unfitting’ for me in your view, isn’t it?” she fiddles with the weapon in her hand. “Anyway, it’d be rude not to introduce myself,” Ezri flicks back her hood, letting out her tresses of white hair. Placing a hand over her chest, she says, “My name is Ezri, head of the Liberation, and the reason for the IPU’s breakdown that they’ve tried oh-so-hard to hide. We’ve been controlling your Headquarters since the Convention, and guess what? Your leaders have both kept this from you, and have consistently done nothing about it.”

Straight to the point.

“Jasper,” I say urgently, catching the way he’s cowering from the corner of my eye. “Don’t.”

He lowers his shoulders and straightens up his back, the fearful look on his face slowly wavering. After a deep breath and a nod, he says, “Right, I’ll be okay… You need to think about yourself, too.”

He points to my twitching hand that failed to be noticed, and here I am trying to make sure he stays calm. Just like at school, my body is starting to react to things it shouldn’t be. Embarrassed, I hide it with the other, returning my full attention to the mess on television. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter out.

“Why this is the case, you might be asking?” Ezri goes on. “The answer is simple – you’re all sad, pathetic little cowards. Your society has been sheltered to the point of incompetence, yet you’ve deluded yourselves into thinking you’re ‘blessed,’ rather than weak… Dare I say, inferior.”

Her accusations cause my stomach to twist into knots. Incompetent, weak, inferior? Those words hardly describe the IPU. Before us, it’s a miracle humanity even survived so long. Abuse of every kind, the trafficking of the helpless, the grueling burdens of slavery, the bloodshed of war… In the old days, mankind was driven by hate and malice. The IPU was the only solution – otherwise, it maybe would’ve been better if we all died off.

Forget my argument with Dad, forget the government’s hesitancy, the point still stands; without the IPU, the world would’ve never found harmony. Period. But yet, somehow, we’re the delusional ones here.

“What would happen if I showed you footage from the Convention?” she rubs her chin, pretending to ponder, “Ah, I know – a good number of you would end up bedridden. If you can barely handle seeing conflict, which is the fault of your insult-to-pacifists in office, how would you fare if it ever came to your doorstep?”

I don’t like where this is going. Is this just another means of taunting us, like she did with the golems— or, no, what if that was never a taunt like I assumed? She said she was “patient” with Dad – that now leads me to think that everything before this, including that video call, was more of a warning than just playing games.

A warning for what?

This is all feeling so horribly, unmistakably familiar.

“It’s ironic. You’re the most advanced civilization in history, with every reason to boast, but at the same time you are children. When trouble comes, you go running to mommy and daddy – except in this case, the parents are children as well,” she sways her head back and forth, making a tsk sound. “Don’t worry, me and the Liberation will be the adults you need. You might not… ‘Appreciate’ our methods, but again, you’re kids, so you don’t know what’s good for you.”

Ezri nods to the two soldiers, who respond by walking down the hall towards the door to the auditorium. The sight of it used to send me waves of excitement, knowing that on the other side was always something important, but now that door only brings me visions of the Convention, of her.

“Remember, whatever happens is a consequence of the IPU’s reluctance. If you want to blame somebody, look to them.”

She says no further explanation, as the television reverts to its original airing, back at the Rosenwald Orphanage. There’s no reporter anymore, and the camera has been dropped onto the concrete, giving us an upward angle of the building. Can’t say I blame them too much; I wouldn’t have wanted to stick around either after that ominous transmit.

I march past a horrified Jasper and to the wide window of the mansion’s main room. It’s built on a hill, and from this spot, you can easily oversee the Capital – including the very center, where the Headquarters are located. It’s not just the auditorium door, she’s corrupted the way I see the whole place in my mind. No longer is it the shining landmark of the city I’m proud of, it’s a reminder of Ezri and her filth. She and her apparent “Liberation” – a stupid name that’s incredibly cringey, by the way – are plotting right inside, how can I see it as anything different?

Jasper walks up to me, opening his mouth to speak – but his voice isn’t what’s heard next.

Back when I was five was the last time we ever had an emergency drill. People would just complain about the noise, and given the fact that we never had “emergencies” to begin with, the IPU decided they were useless and discontinued them. It was a piercing, high-pitched siren that almost resembled crying. Never thought I’d ever hear it again – but it’s here now, blasting through the Capital.

And unlike before, this is no test.

“Calla…” Jasper says anxiously.

Exclamations are throughout the mansion from those of the IPU that remain here, joined with the robotic, manufactured responses of droids asking about their wellness. Stomping causes the floor to shake a bit, caused by the golems we have stationed outside to move in unison towards the entrance.

Meanwhile, all I can do is be still, too confounded to even move, but for what? I always suspected she’d pull something major again, so why the shock? This should be expected from the person with no regard for life, when she stormed through the Racer in that massive ship, or when the liar slaughtered those people after we fell for false pretenses. A person like that, can do this and more.

“Whoa, whoa!” Jasper says through the sirens, grabbing my hand and yanking me away from the window. “Look!”

The Headquarters – are crumbling. The grand walls and pillars are being reduced to mounds of rubble, a thick white smoke disperses from the destruction, covering the surroundings. Seven lights appear in the midst of the haze, and in an instant, those lights are in rapid motion. We soon realize they’re attached to the bottom of a battleship, the exact one from the Convention, that’s now soaring in the air.

My eyes widened, I reach forward with Jasper still holding me back. Despite never living it, the memory is somehow fresh in my mind, and I can predict it coming. Danger. “Run—!” I yell out, though nobody can hear me.

Just a second later, a laser propels from a turret on the battleship, hurling onto the Capital. A large boom reverberates from the following explosion, a burst of flames – then another, and another. The city is soon engulfed in a storm of deadly beams, shooting from Ezri’s ship.

“Evacuate, evacuate!” Cries out a golem that’s just appeared in the doorway. It speeds over to me and Jasper, grabbing both of us by the arms and leading us up the stairway. “Evacuate, evacuate!” it keeps repeating, along with every other bot in the mansion.

We’re brought to the roof, where our helicopter is preparing to take off. Mom and Dad are here too, being led inside by the droid who will serve as the pilot – but only three can fit as passengers. I look over to Jasper, who knows this as well, and see him swallow nervously.

“Is another helicopter coming?” I ask the golem, loud enough to be heard over the blaring sirens and the echoing explosions in the distance.

“Yes, young Miss Hartwell.”

“Alright – Jasper, you go with my parents. I’ll wait for the next one.”

“W-What!? No, you go! I’ll be fine!”

“Don’t make this difficult, just get in—”

My heart sinks as a sudden realization dawns on me. Shiloh lives in an apartment block like Jasper, except hers is close to HQ – right in the area where the Liberation is attacking. In fact, based on what I saw, that section of the Capital was likely the first hit, a direct blast.

Either Shiloh is dead, or she will be.