But nonetheless...let me unveil my shiny (and sparkly) first attempt at a sci-fi.
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December 10, 1985
The news footage- men in pressed white lab coasts huddled around a piece of machinery- might be unassuming any other day. But today, the President lies coiled under a desk in his ivory palace, waiting for the world to end.
Some take the situation with a sense of dignity- fine clothes, reminiscence, and alcohol. Others line the walls of their basements with small piles of ruined fingernails at each person’s feet. (There is at least one family shearing rams, but they are too far removed from civilization to have heard the news.)
A countdown is heard over alarm systems. Last hugs, last smiles, and last peanut butter sandwiches are had right before the forboding voice hits zero.
A missile is launched halfway around the world. (On the television, the men in lab coats cheer beyond breath held in their chests.)
Ten minutes go by. According to the news ticker on the bottom right corner of the screen, the rocket has reached outer space and it preparing to come down. Estimated seconds expire in a flurry of numbers, and America waits in silence.
Two minutes after estimated detonation.
Nothing.
Five minutes after estimated detonation.
Nothing.
(By the time the country has a collective nervous breakdown- approximately twenty minutes later- the men in lab coats are enjoying a celebratory piece of cake.)
After four hours, the mood begins to ease. There are cross-country flights that need to be run. Office meetings that need to be held. Stairs that need to be vacuumed.
Five hours, thirty-six minutes after the world’s biggest prank has been pulled, the President sits up at his desk- tie askew, back stiff. Bodyguards resume normal posture and life round the country goes on as normal.
President McLachlan feels unsatisfied as he sits down to dinner in awkward silence. He needs revenge. He needs to have the Last Laugh. And more importantly, he needs a chiropractor.
The next day, and emergency United Nations summit is head. Everyone but the men in lab coats is invited, and no one is amused but the photographer in the corner, who happens to be reading the newspaper’s comic strips.
The United States receives extra funding, a few immigrants and diplomats, and an obscure island off the shore of northern Canada in sympathy gifts.
And yet, despite widespread kindness, the President is still not satisfied. He appeared weak to his people in the face of panic (and naturally, being a man of power, he is paranoid about the results of such).
Starting immediately, Federal laws are passed at random- no rockets to be made, cars must have a blue stripe on the hood, and children under five must wear protective helmets at all times.
The People are under control- this makes the President feel safer.
Everything goes through the system, but one day, the President is met with opposition.
“Sir, you can’t outlaw a color.”
Henceforth, petitions are forged, campaigns launched, and that particular Justice fired.
The law is passed.
Fifteen years go by. Wars are fought; leaders are reelected (and ousted). Eventually a new worldwide government is unveiled- with Palmer McLachlan, President of the former United States of America, at its head.
There is no more war. There is no more poverty.
Above all, there is no more green.
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