Subatomic Moses

Representative Ali watched from a neighboring rooftop as they broke ground for what would be the York Hospital of Neurological Biometrics.

It was disgusting, Ali believed. After all the years of struggle and tears of sacrifice, the Global Confederacy of Terran States had voted to overturn Amendment One and legalize this scourge of humanity.

Ali literally felt like regurgitating.

The slow, shuffling footsteps of General Jackson across the rooftop didn't startle Ali. However, the sudden drop of the general's hand on a shoulder did make Ali flinch.

"You sure pick nice places to hang out, Ali," Jackson said. The hearty laugh that followed was interrupted by a startling cough.

"I'm brooding," Ali grumbled sourly. "Go away."

Looking over at the construction site, Jackson sighed, squeezing Ali's shoulder sympathetically. Jackson said, "I'm sorry, friend. It isn't what either of us wanted."

"How could they do it!" Ali cried out. "It hasn't even been a generation since the Last Great War."

"History books are already changing it," Jackson mused quietly. "I've heard it's called the Technology War, now."

"Irons wouldn't have stood for this," Ali fumed. An old, familiar anger warming the politician's bones. "Irons would have never let this happen. These young fools will never understand my pain."

"Our pain," Jackson corrected, giving Ali a sideways glance. "And as for Irons, you're wrong. General acted for the people's desires, Ali, not personal desires."

Ali's head shook with denial, saying, "This can't be the end, Jack. It can't be. Maybe I can appeal it to..."

"To who?" Jackson interrupted with a scoff. "We're old relics of a dead time, Ali. No one wants to hear from barbaric warmongers like us."

Ali was silent, unwilling to admit defeat.

"Come on," Jackson said softly. "Let's go back downstairs. I think Nurse Gregorio has a nice evening planned."

After another long moment, Ali reluctantly nodded in assent.

Jackson carefully steered the representative away from the roof's edge, manually pushing the steam chair towards the elevator.

"I hate this place," Ali grumbled, itching at wrinkly skin. "I feel like an unruly child forced to play parlor games."

"That's what happens when you get old," Jackson said cheerfully as they entered the elevator. "Your children place you into the cushiest Hell they know and then do their best to forget you."

And with that, the elevator doors closed and the last major voice of a revolution was silenced forever.