Chapter Fifteen: Interior Rooms

 ~~/*\~~ Satau ~~/*\~~

The executions continued. Some of the gods that had been humiliated by the Plagues had their Temple assets seized. The executions hadn’t reached the Court itself yet, but everyone was expecting it. Those in the Court were uniquely suited to profit off the misfortune of Egypt, because they heard Moses and Aaron’s warnings first, and could act accordingly. Everyone who had taken advantage was expecting Pharaoh’s wrath to come soon. Some tried to flee Egypt with their wealth, and didn’t make it. Some did escape, and hunters were sent to cut them down wherever they settled next.

In the Temples, some of the High Priests had to serve up their Acolytes to trial in order to show loyalty to the King, and strength in their own leadership. But Moses was still out there, and his people were still slaves. Everyone knew the executions were just Pharaoh's temper working itself out until the next Plague.

“We’re next, you know.” Jannes said seriously. It wasn’t even a question.

“I know.” Jambres agreed grimly. “At this point, it’s Us or Pharaoh. Another Plague or two, it might be everyone in Egypt or Pharaoh.”

“So. We’re doing this?”

“We have to, at this point.” Jambres agreed. “But we’re nowhere near ready.”

“We’ll have to improvise.” Jannes said tightly. “We need more people. More options.”

“The more people we involve, the less likely we’ll get away with this.” Jambres warned.

“We’ve got the perfect cover. Moses means anything can be explained away. So the next Plague happened to be on the King alone? Nobody will argue with that. People are already wondering why it hasn’t been that way from the first Plague on.” Jannes countered. “With you and I as a united front, insisting it was an act of a god, even a foreign one, nobody will argue. With the executions coming thick and fast, the Royal Court won’t fight us on it.”

“I suppose that’s true enough.” Jambres agreed. “Our task will be to present the Court, and the nation; with an already accomplished fact.” He paused. “We’ll need the Healer on side. He’ll have to verify that there’s no explanation, other than something supernatural.”

“That will be difficult. If anyone has the opportunity to take the King’s life and get away with it, it’s his personal Physicians. They’re watched and chosen carefully.”

“I know. I chose him.” Jambres said flatly. “All Physicians are Temple-Trained. I can get him on our side. For that matter, maybe we can get Moses to help us. If we can assure him that his people will go free immediately after Nem-ur takes the throne, he might even ask Jehovah to do the job for us.”

Jambres gave a sick little chuckle.

~~/*\~~

With Jambres and Jannes meeting in secret, the classes for Satau and Nem-ur were canceled. The two young men were bored out of their skulls. The Prince of Egypt did not take kindly to boredom. “Well, I’m done waiting for Jannes to return.” He looked back. “Come with me? I’m going to get something to eat, maybe a little music? Get in some target practice?”

Satau let out a breath. He had been shirking some of his responsibilities due to his attempts to keep lines of communication open with Takarut, plus his time caring for Leahe, but his father had reminded him to always be building bridges with the future King. The next generation would see Nem-ur rule Egypt, and Satau was likely to be his High Priest. The more time they spent as friends, the better it was for the future. “Yeah. Sounds like more fun than this, anyway.”

~~/*\~~

The two of them made a day of it. The nation may have been on the brink of starvation, but the Palace was the last place that would feel the pinch. The Prince didn’t have a lot of friends, but he could still summon a party whenever he wanted. There were musicians, and a few dancers to entertain the boys while they ate and drank some wine. When the meal was done, the Prince led them to the courtyard, and had the soldiers set up a target range for him.

“You’ve never used a bow before?” Nem-ur observed. “Not even for sport?”

“I’m an Acolyte. My education was something less than… soldierly.”

Nem-ur took it in stride and handed him a bow. “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t know how to perform magic, so it takes all kinds.” He demonstrated the correct stance, and Satau made an effort to match it. Nem-ur adjusted his arm a little. “Don’t curl your fingers around it so tight. You’re not flicking it, you’re letting the arrow do what it wants to do. Draw.”

Satau drew the bowstring back, the arrow feeling clumsy in his fingers.

Nem-ur stepped back and picked up his own bow, notching and drawing an arrow back smoothly. “Release.”

They both fired. The Prince hit the target close to dead center. Satau’s arrow missed the target entirely. Satau flushed, but Nem-ur didn’t laugh. “You got closer than I did the first time I fired that bow. “Try it again. Don’t be timid with the draw. Sight along the arrow. Don’t look at the arrow when you release, focus on the target.”

The ‘competition’ continued for almost fifteen minutes. After a while, Satau was at least striking the target, if not too accurately.

“Hello, boys. How’s it going?”

Satau turned and flushed to see the Queen had joined them. Her boils had long healed, and she seemed every bit as regal as her husband. “He’s generously teaching me how to be less embarrassing as a competitor for him, highness.”

The Queen watched them for a while, before she spoke to her son. “Don’t you usually go out with the chariots for this? The horseback targets are far more challenging.”

“Normally, I would.” Nem-ur sniffed, lining up his next shot. “Father doesn’t want me leaving the Palace. During the Hailstorms, people started listening to Moses as a way to save their livestock. Father’s concerned that it’s a prelude to treason, so he wants me to stay here.”

The Queen twitched. “What? Is he concerned about anyone specific?”

Satau blinked, looking at the Queen at the oddly specific question. Nem-ur hadn’t noticed, focused on his target. But just for a second, Ramla had shown naked fear. It only lasted a heartbeat before she schooled her expression again. Satau fought to keep his own expression even.

“Father and I were talking after the last confrontation with Moses.” Nem-ur told the tale to his mother; one of the few people he could actually talk to openly. “He asked what I would do.”

Ramla was back under control, and came over to join her son with a smile of affection. “As I recall, the entire Court was dismissed at the time. Yours was the only input he sought. Your first act as Royal Advisor.” She said elegantly. “And what, my prince, did you advise?”

Satau let out a breath between his teeth. If anyone else had asked about a private conference with Pharaoh, it was a possible crime. Before his mother, Nem-ur was only too happy to share. “I reminded him that he isn’t god-incarnate over Jehovah. The loyalty of our people is his by divine right. His own divine self, in fact. As I will be, when my time comes. So our people were where he should focus his attention. The Pharaoh is entitled to the loyalty of Egyptians, after all.”

“Indeed. That loyalty will be yours too, my dear.” The Queen promised. “What a day that will be. You’ll be such a fine King.”

She said it so sincerely, that Satau almost believed her moment of being caught off guard was in his imagination. Almost.

~~/*\~~

Satau returned to the Shrine that afternoon, as Jannes called Nem-ur back to his lessons. As he entered the Private Chambers, Faas was on his way out.

Satau found his father soon after. “Why was Faas here?”

“He’s scared half to death. He’s responsible for Food Production. It’s been two weeks since the hail stopped, and he’s finally gotten an accurate count of the Barley and Flax. Total destruction of the whole crop, before the harvest even began.” He shrugged on his outer robes, and gestured for his son to follow. “I’m heading out to the Temple Granaries, to check the inventory. We’ve had reports of some theft from scared people.”

“We can’t let that continue.” Satau said as they walked. “An accurate count is our only insurance against whatever comes next. But we can’t trust the guards not to help themselves if we ask for more protection.” Satau let out a breath between his teeth and followed. “Is it getting that bad?”

“Bad enough. The wheat crop hadn’t come in yet, thank goodness. It took some damage, but we’ll still get a partial harvest. Enough to keep Egypt alive. We’ve traditionally got a year's worth of supplies in the granaries, but we have an established routine of replenishing our stores with each new season. Food is time. The Plagues aren’t just hitting us economically, it’s taking away our breathing room. We’re coming down to the point of survival now.”

“And all that assumes otherwise normal circumstances. How many people are living off our rations after this many Plagues?”

“More than three quarters of Egypt, I imagine.”

(Author’s Note: These numbers are my own invention. Egypt’s system was that the government collected all harvests, and then distributed food. When that policy began is less certain, but it almost exactly matched the system Joseph began in the book of Genesis, so I’ve continued it here. Since the food was distributed from the Temples, the people were dependent on their worship just to eat, let alone do anything else.)

The discussion had lasted until they reached the main Temple Courtyard, where Jambres split off to attend to the daily reports. Satau waited for him outside, and noticed Ashura, collecting the daily offerings to Ptah in her baskets. “It’s illegal to eat what has been given to the gods.” She told them primly. “But with everything that’s going on, some people are desperate enough to risk it. Jannes told me to collect the edible offerings more quickly, and more often.”

“It’s appreciated.” Satau said automatically. “I’m surprised the task fell to you though. I thought you were spending today with Sagira.”

“She couldn’t make it. In fact, all the Queen’s personal attendants seem to be on missions today.” Ashura said lightly.

“Not just today. Nem-ur tells me that the Queen has her fur up about something this week.” Satau agreed, not thinking much about it. “Any ideas what?”

“Not really, but I saw Sagira half an hour ago. Whatever her duties were, it apparently involved following Neb-en-toneb around.”

“The Priest of Hapi?” Satau laughed. “A little old for her, isn’t he?”

Then Jambres rejoined him and Satau said his goodbyes, heading into the Temple to get back to work.

~~/*\~~

“You know, sooner or later you won’t make it back from the City.” Tzioni warned Takarut, as they arrived at the public square.

“Pharaoh agreed to let us go if the storm would stop.” Takarut reasoned. “Moses says he’s going to go back on his word. The only people who know about it are the Royal Court. We have to make Pharaoh accountable to his own people. Or at the very least, make sure that they know the truth about Jehovah.”

Takarut went to his usual place. He could see some of the people recognize him, having seen him in the same place before and after other Plagues. Takarut took a deep breath and began to speak, when someone else cut him off.

“People of Egypt!” Called a voice powerfully. Trumpets sounded a call immediately after, summoning everyone’s attention directly to a Royal Scribe, in shining white linen, surrounded by an honor guard of Palace soldiers and Temple musicians. “Your gods have heard your cries for relief! As the storm raged against Egypt, our sovereign ruler, the Pharaoh invoked his mighty powers and banished the storm. The High Priest has called for a day of celebration, in thanks for the generosity of the Great God Ptah, and his servant; the Divine-Incarnate.”

Takarut glanced at Tzioni. There was no chance that their story would be more acceptable to the crowd. Or that anyone would hear it. The soldiers that escorted the announcement were already watching for any dissenting opinions…

Tzioni apparently agreed. “Time to go.”

~~/*\~~

“Our message is getting out, but it’s only a small victory.” Jannes warned his people. It was the fourth time in as many months that the Priesthood had been called together. “As soon as the message is delivered, people start crowding with questions, or demands for compensation for losses.”

“Isn’t that why we sent guards?” One of the Priests reasoned.

“The guards need to eat as much as anyone. They’re shaking people down for whatever cash and food they have on them. The marketplace is afraid to let the guards in.”

“If we can’t get the soldiers under control, then our entire power base is at risk. These Plagues have been… diminishing our authority in the Temples.” Jambres said darkly. “If we lose control of the military, then all rule of law breaks down.”

“We’re not that far off. More than two thirds of Egyptians are out of work. Many of them have lost everything. The streets and buildings that have been trashed by hail and fire aren’t being rebuilt, because almost all the workforce is either Hebrew, or still in recovery from the boils.”

“Faas says the barley and flax is wiped out completely. We’re just two weeks away from the wheat fields being ready for harvesting, and if we lose that next, our storehouses will be sucked dry. We already have to triple the guards round the clock.”

“How do we convince the King that wheat is worth more than slaves? He’s the one person in Egypt who is certain to never go hungry.”

“Tell him that, and he’ll eat us first!” Someone else shouted back.

“I’m not making these numbers up, the crop is-”

“Numbers don't matter!” A third man yelled over them both. “All that matters is what one man thinks, and we have to find a way to change his mind-”

The room devolved into squabbling, arguing. One faction or another shouting louder than the other. More arguments broke out, scoring points, countering arguments. Frustration with the world was boiling over, and the most influential men in Egypt were discovering just how little power they had.

Jambres drew a reed whistle out of his robes and blew a loud, piercing tone over them all until he had the room’s full attention. “Everyone, may I remind you that we are on the same side here. The point of this meeting is not to each get what we want, but to have a unified message.”

“That’s right.” Jannes agreed. “We are all servants, after all. Let us never forget that.”

Jannes and Jambres, two lifelong rivals in pursuit of power, turned as one towards the shrines to Ptah and Thoth, and led all of them in a prayer for harmony and protection. It was a prayer to their lords of creation; and all the factions, all the arguing members of their Priesthood fell instantly silent before the idols they worshiped.

The ritual prayers were familiar, as certain as the gods themselves. Disruption was something that had simply never happened in Egypt before. At least, not until Moses. The tradition calmed the tempers, got them all back on the same side again.

Jambres ended the ritual prayer, and returned to running the meeting. “Now then, our task is to see our own people through whatever trials that come, and leave combating them to the gods. Sooner or later, this will end. Egypt is Eternal.”

~~/*\~~

“They have nothing to offer.” Jannes said shortly once the two of them were alone.

“No, they don’t.” Jambres agreed. “But we know they’ll back us once our plans succeed. They’re all more worried about what comes next than anyone else in the Court. With the Priesthood behind us, the public will be too.”

“Neb-en-toneb says the Queen is prepared to do her part.” Jannes said quietly. “When do we move?”

“That’s the big question. Timing is very delicate on this.” Jambres murmured back. “If we plan to blame the next Plague for Pharaoh’s death…”

“I still think it’s the safest option.” Jannes nodded. “Except we don’t even know what the next Plague is yet. Or if it’s coming.”

“It’ll come.” Jambres said with certainty. “And if history is any indication, it’ll come within the next two weeks.”

“The Wheat Harvest?”

“Every other economic advantage of Egypt has been hit. Letting our workforce go is an economic loss in itself, so if the economy is ruined beyond repair…”

Jannes shivered. “If we manage to succeed in this… We’ll have a lot of work to do.”

~~/*\~~ Ryder ~~/*\~~

Even with the power and communication lines falling apart, word got around very quickly that the Coalition was taking over almost all the world’s resources, and had no interest in protecting anyone at the local level. With no resources of their own to speak of, most public works were all but shut down.

There had been walkouts from all police stations and hospitals. Some tried to keep it all running without pay or assistance, but there wasn’t much they could offer. With the system collapsing, the public learned very quickly that there was nobody coming to help them… or to stop them.

~~/*\~~

A loud smash woke up Karla quickly. She reached over to the other side of the bed. She was alone. There was another smash outside, and she scurried out of her bed, grabbing for her shoes, before she changed her mind and collected her hiking boots.

She came out to the living space, where Ryder was pulling furniture in front of the apartment door. “Ah, good morning. I hope you don’t mind. I know it’s your home, but I figured you wouldn’t mind if I redecorated a little, given the circumstances…”

“Yeah.” Karla yawned. “What’s going on?”

“Anarchy.” Ryder explained. “The Commissioner announced that dispatch would be off the air until the current crisis had passed. Less than a fifth of the emergency operators turned up to work this morning, so the lines are jammed. They can’t pay their officers, and some of the off-duty guys are shaking people down for food. The only way they can stop that is by suspending the entire Force, and since the Coalition is already out on the streets-”

“I always suspected that nobody went to work just because they loved their jobs.” Karla yawned. “What’s going on in our street?”

“It’s hard to tell, even with your Police Scanner, but it looks like the poorer neighborhoods are storming the wealthier ones, looking for anything they can get to keep going until the supply crisis is over. More than three quarters of the country is locked down at a level unseen since the COVID Pandemic, and since the Coalition has seized all the food supplies…”

“Looters?”

“Yeah.” Ryder nodded.

“We’ve gotta get a camera on this.” Karla breathed automatically, looking down at her street from the window.

“Yeah.” Ryder agreed, but neither of them moved.

“I’m not religious. But I guess… I guess I had faith.” Karla admitted. “Faith that the world would keep on spinning, one way or another. We’re journalists. We tell the world about what’s going wrong all the time, but… Ever since the 1940’s we’ve had a way to end the world. And for almost a century, we kept the world turning. I guess I just assumed we always would.” She shook her head slowly. “With the FRA declaring that there’s no such thing as Heaven or Hell, or God, or Angels, or… What keeps the world spinning on now?”

Ryder gestured at the Coalition trucks driving past. “They think they do.” He offered.

“Yeah, and the wealthy thought they did, right up until the moment they jumped out the windows. The politicians thought they ruled, right up until the moment they got attacked by the mobs they whipped up. The Generals thought they were the final authority, until they lost control of their own men. The clergy thought they were the guardians of right and wrong, right up until the moment they started gettin’ lynched…”

Smash! Somewhere below them, a window was broken. Karla jumped. “Should we call someone?”

“Like who?” He looked around. “It’s a nice apartment. Just nice enough to make an appealing target.”

“If they’re looking for food or medicine, they won’t find much. We live in the newsroom. I’ve got nothing in the fridge but old takeout.”

“I noticed. Won’t be tasty, but it’ll last us a day.” Ryder nodded. “What are we going to do after that?”

“Yeah, I’m getting hungry too.” Karla admitted, as something else smashed outside. “We have to get out of here. But where are we going to go?”

“Nowhere to go. The news van is running on empty.” Ryder admitted. “We should kill the lights. Barricade the doors, block the windows if we can. Make it a less appealing target.”

“We’re a few floors up.” Karla nodded. “Anyone looking to smash and grab will stick to the ground floors.”

And then the power went out again.

~~/*\~~

The power had gone out, and everything was silent, dark.

Everyone was dozing, Alvin sitting by his front window, peeking past the curtains to the street outside. He’d lived on this street for years, and yet somehow it seemed like another world now. Every house in the street was displaying their Renouncement notice in the front windows. Every house except his own.

Paige’s phone buzzed, and they all jumped. The cell signal had been coming and going for hours. Alvin pulled out his own phone, still clinging to life, barely, and saw that he had no signal… but a message arrived on his screen anyway. Just two words. As soon as he read them out, the phone battery died.

Interior Rooms.

Alvin took a sharp breath in and held it for a few seconds, before letting it out. “All right.” He said. “From this point on, we do not leave the house. Not for anything. I know, we haven’t really gone far since we ran out of food to deliver, and the territory was finished, but from here on out; we don’t go outside. Not even to stretch our legs. Not until it’s over. Paige, bring blankets and mattresses from the guestroom in here. The less rooms we’re active in, the better. No sense drawing attention. Nate, inventory our food and water. Figure out how long we can hold out here. Del, everything else: Toiletries, Medications, other sundries.” He looked them each in the eye seriously. “We do not leave this house until… Well, until Paradise starts.”

Paige shivered. “I didn’t think it would be like this.” She admitted. “I thought maybe the Hall, but… Alvin, this is your home.”

Alvin smiled a bit. “It’s not the first time that servants of Jehovah have to ‘wait it out’ in their homes. Been happening since the Ten Plagues.”

At the front window, Nate actually laughed. “We’ve got the reverse this time.” He pulled the shades tightly. “Every house in the street has their Renouncements taped up in their windows for anyone walking past to see. Except this house.”

“Required by law to make their allegiance known.” Alvin nodded. “By not doing the same, I’ve declared. So have all of you.” He gestured with his dead phone. “You think it’s a coincidence that the phone stayed alive just long enough to deliver that last instruction? You’re making your choice known just by being in this house.”

Del felt a compulsive shudder run through his body, and it just did not stop for several moments. “It’s really happening.”

(Author’s Note: I’ve written ‘Tribulation’ sequences for books in the New Earth Series, and I made a deliberate choice to have both series be in the same ‘continuity’. But there’s still a lot we don’t know about what will actually happen during those times. As a result, I’ve written it three different ways. In one story, the Witnesses fled to their Halls, and each other. In another, they were arrested, and waited it out in prison. In this story, ‘Interior Rooms’ means waiting it out at home.

I’ve kept the continuity by saying that there are different instructions for different locations. This is not to suggest one possibility over another, but rather to explore each option.)

~~/*\~~

They got busy with their assigned tasks. The stores they had left were not encouraging, given the extra people in one home.

“I wasn’t even meant to be in this city.” Del admitted, still worried about his family.

“Brother, nobody can say it wasn’t a miracle you found me after the airport.” Nate admitted. “And to be honest, I was starting to lose it, driving around on my own. Having more brothers with me, it helps.”

“Having you all here has been incredibly helpful. A good portion of our congregation have you to thank for their food supplies.” Alvin put in. “Nobody should be alone for any of this. Consider this your home for the duration.”

Paige raised her hand. “I was waiting for my own kin to turn me in. As much as it grieves me, I owe you guys my life, just for letting me be here.”

Alvin nodded. “We all found our way to each other through some kind of million-to-one coincidence. Enough, in fact, that I’m comfortable saying that it’s not a coincidence at all.”

Gunshots rang out in the distance. It had been happening so often that nobody flinched anymore.

Nate gave the biggest yawn he could remember having, and Paige smirked at him before yawning herself. “We should sleep.”

“Someone should keep watch.” Nate offered.

“Why? If anyone comes to break down the door, it’s not like we have any weapons, or escape routes.” Alvin pointed out.

“Not what I mean.” Nate said quietly. “The ‘Interior Rooms’ part is the end of this. No more instructions until it’s over. Which means it can’t last much longer.”

Del chuckled mirthlessly. “He’s right. It’d be something of a shame to have gone through all this and then sleep through the ‘grand finale’.” He settled into a chair. “I’ll keep watch for a bit. You guys get some rest.”

~~/*\~~

There was a discussion about whether or not to set up a stronger barricade, or retreat to a different hiding place. Alvin’s house had no basement or attic space, so the whole group was just… sitting and waiting. It could have been any other day, except for the fact that nobody had showered or slept properly in two days.

“It seems beyond crazy that we’re just… sitting here.” Paige groaned while Nate and Del napped. “This is the most free time I’ve had in my life, and it’s because the world is ending.”

Alvin smirked. “When I was on the Missionary work, I spent some time in the islands. Whenever there was a hurricane, we’d take cover in our homes. They could last all day, or longer; and we’d have to sit quietly like it was just another night.” He gave her a smile. “I promise, when this is over, we’ll have plenty of work to do.”

Tap-tap-tap.

They both jumped. Someone was tapping at the front window. Paige shook her head. “Don’t risk it. I know it’s your house, but… please?”

“They know we’re in here.” Alvin countered. Tap-tap-tap. “I won’t go outside.” He went to the window, and pulled back the shades. He wasn’t even surprised to see who it was. “Good morning, Agent Mercer.”

“You will open the door, and lead everyone inside out of the house. If you have weapons, leave them behind. You will be taken to the nearest Coalition Post, and given a fair trial, according to FRA regulations.” Mercer said directly.

Alvin nodded. “I figured you’d say something like that. Unfortunately, I can’t leave the house right now. I have orders of my own.”

“It’s not up to you.” Mercer warned. “Failure to comply immediately will leave you open to summary punishments at my discretion.”

“Some of the people currently in my house have told stories of escaping danger that are downright miraculous.” Alvin called back. “Why do I feel like you’ve heard similar stories?”

Mercer said nothing to that.

“The Renouncement has already wiped out everyone except us. You said so yourself. There’s a reason for that. You think we were counting on the law for rescue?” Alvin added.

Mercer’s face twisted. “Refusal means due process is suspended. You continue to exist at my sufferance.” He warned. “You think I’m bluffing?”

Alvin said nothing. Through the window, the two men traded an electric gaze for several seconds. Then, with a quick, almost casual movement, Mercer drew his gun, pointed it at Alvin through the glass, and pulled the trigger. Alvin didn’t move. It seemed like an act of courage, staring him down; but in truth, it was because he had completely frozen solid. It had happened so fast; shock at the sudden appearance of the gun left him paralyzed.

Click. The gun misfired.

Well, that doesn’t seem mathematically likely, does it? The thought came to Alvin, as if someone had spoken, but he was still trying to move. I wonder how many other brothers have experienced this? How many does Mercer know about?

Mercer looked at his weapon in shock, popping the bullet out to examine closely. He looked up at Alvin again, face twisting. “I can have a hundred people here with a phone call! Enough to tear your people limb from limb, weapon-malfunctions or not! I can burn you out of this house!” But he couldn’t completely hide the quiver in his voice. He’d witnessed something impossible, and he knew it.

Alvin said nothing, lowering the shade again. He heard another click from outside. And another. Is he still trying to shoot? He was shaking uncontrollably. Paige led him back to a chair and hugged the older man, who broke out in a cold sweat from the moment. “We were never hiding.” She murmured to him, and started to pray softly over him.

Just then, Nate came downstairs, yawning. “Did I miss anything interesting?”

~~/*\~~

“Maybe we should go to the garage.” Ryder offered. “We hid the news van in there. Easier to barricade.”

“Easier for looters to reach.” Karla checked the barricade at her apartment door automatically. It was untouched. “A few floors up, we have relative safety here. Also, we had nothing worth stealing. I thought my TV was expensive. Turns out it’s worth less than the expired crackers in my cupboard.”

“Help!” Someone called outside, running past the building. “Someone help!”

Neither of them moved, pulling together a little closer together on the couch.

“Y’know, when I started working as ‘on-air talent’, I started making some decent money. My mom was impressed by my new apartment, but… She asked me where the stuff from my childhood was. The things I had when I lived with her and dad.” She started to cry silently. “I had thrown it all away. I let a decorator make my home for me. I had nothing with any sentimental value. My photos were all digital. The mementos of my travels were all ‘clutter’ to my decorator, and he boxed it all up for storage.” She sniffed. “My whole life. Everything I’d ever seen and experienced. It was just… disposable. Offline.”

Ryder rubbed his eyes. “Uh, my brother asked me once: If I had to walk away from the world tomorrow, what would I take with me? I don’t have an answer.”

The TV suddenly changed. No graphics, no captions, no intro music. Just a sudden shift from reruns to the newsroom. Gordon wasn’t in sight. The camera was a little out of focus, and then Dion stepped into the field of view.

Karla swore under her breath. “I knew it was bad, but…”

“Yeah.” Ryder agreed. “Well, we knew Dion didn’t have a life outside the newsroom.”

On screen, Dion was holding a printout. “I’m the Executive Producer here, at KPXQ. Before I begin, I want to make clear that if there’s anyone watching, we have no food, or anything of value in the studio. This is a public service announcement, for as long as we can stay on the air. The walkouts have reached every level of government. Coalition Forces have seized the last hoarded food supplies, and promise to deliver everything to refugee centers, as soon as their primary mission is done. The city has been divided into emergency zones. We’ll stay on the air as long as we can, to direct everyone to designated shelters-”

“Turn it off.” Karla sighed hard. “You believe that?”

“Last I heard from Dion, the relief and rebuilding wasn’t happening. The U.N. couldn’t agree on where the priority was, since the Coalition is global. They’ve got members from every nation, and they all want to help their own people first. The military aspect is acting on its own, and the governments have lost all control of their own supply lines.” He sighed. “The bit about the ‘Final Coordinated Strike’, I believe. They’re on a crusade, and they don’t care if the world starves to death before they’re done.”

“Only one thought in their heads anymore.” Karla sighed. “And I’m not even surprised.”

As if to answer her, the lights went out.

~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~

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