"AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM YOUR KING: READ IMMEDIATELY, OR OTHERWISE BE PUNISHED
Citezens of Queba,
I bring you very important news. Please tune in to the T-Screen at 6 o' clock PM sharp tonight. Failure to do so will result in death, for both the Grey Side and the Gold. If you are curious of what the message will be about, you will have to wait until the time comes. But, if you are longing for a hint, here is one thing to expect: change.
Whether a good or bad change it is, I refuse to tell you that until 6 o' clock tonight. Until then, simply wait.
Sincerely, your king. SEPTEMBER 05, 2132"
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Christopher and his mother gathered around the T-Screen-- which was once known as the telivision-- and it flickered on. The boy fiddled with the paper letter in his hands as the screen warmed up, pulling at the corners, tearing at the sides. They and everyone in the village had recieved the same letter, demanding that they tuned in to a very important message at 6 o' clock sharp. The clock on the wall read 5:59. One minute before the truth was revealed.
Tic.
Toc.
Tic.
Toc.
He stared from the letter to the clock, from the clock to the letter, thoughts surging through his mind. What was going on? Should I be scared? What if the news is terrible? What if the news is great...?-
His whizzing questions came to a halt when the minute hand moved a space. 6 o' clock. PM. Sharp.
It was time.
Christopher tossed the letter to the floor, grabbing his mother's cold hand to replace it. He sat at the edge of his seat, eyes locked to the screen. It flickered once... twice... and then the country's anthem began to play.
His throat tightened with disgust as King Steven's face appeared on the screen. Beside him was an older man, probably Steven's father, dressed in a golden suit. The anthem ended and Steven began to speak.
"Citizens of Queba," his accent was so rich you could almost see it curling out of his mouth as deep red smoke. "I have come to bring news."
Christopher squeezed his mother's hand tighter. He could feel her begin to shake.
"I have recently realized that this country is not as wonderful as I would like it to be," he said. "It's ugly, mean, and only a part of it looks decent. There's the rich from the Gold, and then there's the poor from the Grey. To my observations, the Grey sideoutweighs Queba, and only a fraction of people are happy with their life."
Christopher furrowed his brow.
"There have been many options to saving this country. But because of low funds, and vote..." He stopped for a second to sigh. Christopher trembled. "The winning decision was execution."
His mother gave a faint shriek. King Steven continued to ramble on about the government of Queba, but Christopher heard none of it. Execution? What did that mean?
Then he got it. King Steven was complaining about the unwealthy side of Queba, and then said that the only solution was execution. Christopher was sitting in the tiny, old shack that he lived in. He had empty pockets, and was dressed in a vest made from deer hide, pants from old curtains. He wasn't wealthy. He was going to die.
The last thing he heard from the television was "That is all."
Then the screen went black, and he heard gunfire.
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Teen FictionWhere North America once stood lies a new nation called Queba, ruled by 18 year old King Steven. As the dictator, he has Queba at his feet, so there was nothing in the way of him ordering the execution of his people. Because of the desire of a perfe...
