I, Cassandra

15 | AMADI EZENWA

February 2051

In breaking news, Global Command has today named former President of the United States, Ezeudo Ezenwa, the Secretary-General of the United Nations. Highly regarded for his capability in overseeing the timely completion of Global Command's Alpha and Omega cities in 2048, and the selection and migration of its fifty million residents into its safe harbour, former President Ezenwa is deemed more than capable of ensuring the society we now inhabit continues to thrive and—

'Hey, I was watching that!' I say, turning around, indignant, to see who turned off the wall screen. A view of the Canadian tundra replaces the news, layers of smooth undulating rock coats the furred, marshy flatlands. In the distance, a lake glistens in the pristine sunrise, from its shore several herons take flight. Orange-pink light filters through the window, bathing the living room in a soft, warm glow.

'You already know all this,' my father smiles as he moves around the sofa to join me. 'I told you last night at dinner.'

'Yes, but,' I shrug, and glance back at the wall screen longingly, 'I like to see it. It makes me proud, you know, to be your son. I mean,' I continue, racing to get the words out quick before my father stops me, 'you were our first real African-American president, the son of Nigerian immigrants, and were voted in twice, and now you get to be the Secretary-General of the UN. It just goes to show—'

'It goes to show what?' my father asks, soft, a hint of rebuke in his dark eyes. 'We are all the same, in here,' he touches his fingertips to his head, then over his heart, 'and here. It just happened to take a very long time for a certain group of people to understand what the rest of us have known all along.'

'Yeah,' I roll my eyes, 'and then they left you their mess to clean up.'

My father smiles again, placid, literally nothing fazes him. He's—what's the word I learned at school just the other day? Oh yeah. Indomitable. I wish I were more like him, but I'm not. According to my father, I take after my mother: full of ideals, powerful emotions, driven by a deep sense of justice. I wish for the billionth time I could have known her. She would have understood me, and not just smiled, like my father. She would have let me watch the news, I'm sure of it.

My father checks his watch. He's wearing his vintage Rolex, the Zephyr Oyster Perpetual 6582 that's going to be one hundred years old in four years' time. I eye it, admiring the creamy surface of the watch's face, with just gold dots to mark the hours. It's elegant, just like my father. Even the way he moves is graceful and relaxing to watch - like the water that flows along the pebbled brook in the school's cafeteria. I know I'm not elegant and probably never will be. I would rather play sports and run around outside than sit in school and learn stuff. But I try cause it makes Dad happy.

The Rolex was a wedding gift from my mother. It had belonged to her father, and then his father before him. Dad told me he intends to give it to me on my twenty-fifth birthday. I sigh, desolate. Fourteen more years to go. It feels like forever. Why does it have to take so long to grow up?

'Aren't you going to be late for school?' my father asks. 'It's just gone seven-thirty. The monorail won't wait for you.' He stands and holds out his hand. 'I have a little time before my first meeting, let's walk together and you can tell me all about your favourite subject.'

'The only thing that matters is soccer,' I say. I'm not kidding. It's true.

'Ah,' my father nods, 'that is without question an important pursuit, but tell me, son, I'm curious what have you been taught about regarding recent history. You were too young to remember any of the things that led up to us living here, so what is your teacher telling you?' He opens the door. I follow him out into the warm February sunshine. Even this early in the morning, it's already warm. I decide to leave my jacket behind and follow my father down the pavement past the other homes towards the monorail stop.

'Well,' I begin, screwing up one eye, looking up, idly searching for the blue shimmers which occasionally ripple across the massive, clear dome over Alpha VI—the most I have seen in one day was five, I would love to break my record. 'Ms Banjupantham said something about how, a really long time ago, like, I dunno, twenty-five years ago?' I look up, feeling uncertain, realising way too late, distracted by trying to break my shimmer record I've swum into dangerous waters. But my father nods, soft, and urges me to continue.

'Well,' I go on, cautious, dropping my attention to my sneakers, where there are no distractions, 'there was this president, and he made bad choices which made the problems in the world worse, right? And somehow even though he was bad at his job—not like you—he still got to be the president twice . . . so things got even worse, like for the animals, and the trees, and like, even here,' I wave my arm around encompassing the neat cul-de-sac with its garden and lily pond, 'where it's supposed to be frozen, like totally, miles deep according to Ms Banjupantham. So like, the polar bears died cause the ice melted, and there were no rain forests left cause people wanted to make money, and anyway he said what the scientists said about the polar bears dying cause of what the people were doing to the trees was a lie. He said people could do whatever they wanted to the planet, and it would be ok, and—oh look!'

A pair of jewelled dragonflies no more than an arms' length away hover before me, just watching me with their big eyes. I can't help myself, I lift my hand, hoping one will land on it, but no luck. They dart off to the garden to hover over a tiger lily, then shoot away, quick as anything into the depths of the gardens surrounding the pond.

'Go on,' my father says not looking at the dragonflies. Apart from the muscles of his jaw clenching a couple of times, he looks calm. Indomitable. I wish I were indomitable. I decide not to say the name of the president, even though I know it. The guy who killed Mom had been a supporter of him and didn't like that she used her power as a Supreme Court Justice to punish politicians who stopped everyone from being equal. My heart hurts a little, so I let out a heavy breath, it helps, a bit. But then, at least none of the dead president's children or relatives were chosen to live in the restriction zone. Now they were with all the other people in the exclusion zone, exactly where they belonged—with the people who didn't care about Earth, or the animals; who had called the scientists liars, scientists who, it turned out, had been right all along.