One Shot, One Man

Part 1

 "Luke, I'm leaving now." He'll be fine on his own. Stop worrying, he'll be fine.

 "So?"

 "Love you, too."

 "Remind me why you're going to this again," he says.

 "Because it's important to know what's going on," I tell him. "Are you still sure you don't want to go?"

 "Positive," he says with a frown.

 "I'll be back sometime tomorrow." I shove my dad's pistol in my waistband, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and head for the door. I walk out with one final glance at Luke.

 Before I leave, I look back at the cabin. My father's hands built that cabin. It was years and years ago, back when he and my mother were first married. Back then, the wood was bright and clean. The cabin has begun to show its age. I wonder what my father would think of it now.

 The day moves by uneventful as I make my trek through the damp woods. I make it to the capital city an hour and a half before the press conference is scheduled to start. I know that I should find a place to stay the night, but I wander around instead. I seldom go to any cities at all, and only to the capital city on necessity. It's not that I live too far away. I just don't like the cities. They aren't what I'm told they used to be, and they're certainly not like the cities in the books I've read.

 My roaming carries me around only about a quarter of the city, but I see enough to confirm that Chancellor Gold has changed nothing. This is still a city divided in half. One half is for the rich. There are beautifully magnificent buildings, parks, and homes. Everything screams Utopia. The other half is for the less fortunate. They live in the crumbling buildings that are left from war, the ones that Gold promised he would fix. They work in the markets or in the homes of the rich as servants or repairmen. Some cannot even do that. They sit in the public square and beg. Sometimes, the rich take pity and offer a coin or two.

 I drop a coin into the cup of every person I pass, unable to offer more. It breaks my heart to walk through the city and know there is nothing I can do about it. I respect Gold's authority and abilities as a leader in times of tragedy, but now that we have reached a relative peace and prosperity, he doesn't advance us any further. He is content with what he has, and he is unwilling to do anything but placate. This country needs a change that cannot be brought about by only one, and certainly not our pacifying chancellor.

 In fact, the only reason that I'm coming to this conference at all is because Gold requested that everyone within a twenty mile radius come. He said it was extremely important. "Monumental" is the word he used, I believe.

 "All citizens report to the public square for the press conference. All citizens report to the public square for the press conference." A mechanical voice orders us over speakers. Gold always likes to make a grand appearance, and he does so by having a massive crowd before him to seem as though he is adored.

 After we have all assembled, Gold and two others walk to the platform between a mass of guards. Gold is taking a large risk by appearing in public like this. There have been rumors of threats from The Wild Territory. Word is that there's a rebellion forming there.

 "My dear subjects," Gold begins. The press conference is starting. I turn to see cameras in the back, undoubtedly broadcasting to all channels. "Thank you for coming here on this glorious day. I'm glad that so many of you could make it. Now, before we begin, I would like to take a moment to honor an admirable few for the work that they did on the capitol building."

 I tune him out and focus on the two other people on the platform with him. One of them is a man with a bald head and a long, crooked nose. I can't tell his age. To be perfectly honest, he looks and stands like he could be anywhere between 30 and 60. I try to tell by what he wears, but his clothes give no age. He wears a black coat with a high collar. Buttons fasten the top half, and the rest hangs loosely. He is so skinny, I begin to wonder if he has any flesh beneath the coat. Perhaps he is simply a skeleton.