the Oval Office. The ornately carved Resolute desk fills much of the screen, but there's nobody in the seat behind it.
A few moments of silence, and then an irritated voice calls out off camera. "No makeup, Karl. Look, just... oh, for the love of God, just give it to me."
An urgent voice whispers, "We're live, ma'am."
The room falls silent for a moment, then comes the rustling sound of a mic being attached to clothing, and a few seconds later the President appears on screen and lowers herself behind the desk. She looks awful, like she's aged ten years overnight. Behind the desk she looks much smaller than the larger than life ballbuster we elected three years ago. She looks... well, she looks like a little old lady. It's hard to imagine that this is a woman about to embark on a year long high energy re-election campaign. She looks like she should have been buried yesterday.
"My fellow Americans," she begins, her voice hoarse and rasping, "it pains me deeply to break this news, but I must report that our great nation is under attack. A little more than five hours ago law enforcement in New York City and here in Washington D.C. began to report acts of unexplained large scale rioting and civil disobedience. Local authorities were quickly overwhelmed, and following the advice of the Pentagon, the Secretary of Defense and my Joint Chiefs of Staff I dispatched units of the National Guard to assist in operations to secure these cities. The current status of these units is unknown."
She looks as if her attention is distracted by someone off-camera. I hear the sound of a door creak open, and quiet but insistent voices in the background. The President scowls and shakes her head. She turns back to the camera.
"We don't yet know if these events are related to last year's attack on Bangkok. I cannot currently give you the exact details of the situation, or of any ongoing operations undertaken by our military and civilian forces, but you can rest assured that the brave men and women of our armed forces, police force and fire department are working tirelessly to bring this situation under control and restore peace."
She keeps her eyes trained on the camera, but raises a warning hand to someone off screen.
"As of this moment I am declaring a national state of emergency. All air, rail and sea transport has been grounded until further notice. Our national borders have been closed, and stock market trading has been suspended. I urge citizens to follow any and all directions given by the authorities, and I implore you all to keep— what? No ! I'm not finished."
These last words are angry and directed off-camera. Moments later the view is blocked by a posse of black-suited Secret Service agents who hustle the President to her feet, loudly protesting, and whisk her quickly from the room. I can barely make out anything in the confusion, but I think I hear one of the agents say something like "They've breached the perimeter." There's an edge of panic in his voice.
taptaptaptaptaptap, tap, tap, tap .
In the confusion someone must have knocked the camera. The image wheels away from the desk, blurring until it suddenly comes to rest pointing at a desk leg and the plush blue carpet. For a few seconds the camera struggles to find focus, alternating between the desk and a random point on the floor while sounds of movement come from off-screen. The final words I hear are "Eagle moving" before the image suddenly cuts back to the anchor, who looks like he wasn't expecting the camera to be on him. He's staring off-screen at a monitor, and it takes a few seconds for him to realize he's live. He hurriedly drops something he's holding to the ground, but from the curl of smoke hanging in the air it's clear he was smoking in the newsroom.
"Umm... We'll... Yeah, OK, we'll try to get the White House back as soon as possible. In the meantime I'd like to repeat our earlier message. If your area is affected,
A few moments of silence, and then an irritated voice calls out off camera. "No makeup, Karl. Look, just... oh, for the love of God, just give it to me."
An urgent voice whispers, "We're live, ma'am."
The room falls silent for a moment, then comes the rustling sound of a mic being attached to clothing, and a few seconds later the President appears on screen and lowers herself behind the desk. She looks awful, like she's aged ten years overnight. Behind the desk she looks much smaller than the larger than life ballbuster we elected three years ago. She looks... well, she looks like a little old lady. It's hard to imagine that this is a woman about to embark on a year long high energy re-election campaign. She looks like she should have been buried yesterday.
"My fellow Americans," she begins, her voice hoarse and rasping, "it pains me deeply to break this news, but I must report that our great nation is under attack. A little more than five hours ago law enforcement in New York City and here in Washington D.C. began to report acts of unexplained large scale rioting and civil disobedience. Local authorities were quickly overwhelmed, and following the advice of the Pentagon, the Secretary of Defense and my Joint Chiefs of Staff I dispatched units of the National Guard to assist in operations to secure these cities. The current status of these units is unknown."
She looks as if her attention is distracted by someone off-camera. I hear the sound of a door creak open, and quiet but insistent voices in the background. The President scowls and shakes her head. She turns back to the camera.
"We don't yet know if these events are related to last year's attack on Bangkok. I cannot currently give you the exact details of the situation, or of any ongoing operations undertaken by our military and civilian forces, but you can rest assured that the brave men and women of our armed forces, police force and fire department are working tirelessly to bring this situation under control and restore peace."
She keeps her eyes trained on the camera, but raises a warning hand to someone off screen.
"As of this moment I am declaring a national state of emergency. All air, rail and sea transport has been grounded until further notice. Our national borders have been closed, and stock market trading has been suspended. I urge citizens to follow any and all directions given by the authorities, and I implore you all to keep— what? No ! I'm not finished."
These last words are angry and directed off-camera. Moments later the view is blocked by a posse of black-suited Secret Service agents who hustle the President to her feet, loudly protesting, and whisk her quickly from the room. I can barely make out anything in the confusion, but I think I hear one of the agents say something like "They've breached the perimeter." There's an edge of panic in his voice.
taptaptaptaptaptap, tap, tap, tap .
In the confusion someone must have knocked the camera. The image wheels away from the desk, blurring until it suddenly comes to rest pointing at a desk leg and the plush blue carpet. For a few seconds the camera struggles to find focus, alternating between the desk and a random point on the floor while sounds of movement come from off-screen. The final words I hear are "Eagle moving" before the image suddenly cuts back to the anchor, who looks like he wasn't expecting the camera to be on him. He's staring off-screen at a monitor, and it takes a few seconds for him to realize he's live. He hurriedly drops something he's holding to the ground, but from the curl of smoke hanging in the air it's clear he was smoking in the newsroom.
"Umm... We'll... Yeah, OK, we'll try to get the White House back as soon as possible. In the meantime I'd like to repeat our earlier message. If your area is affected,
Similar Books
Virgin Territory
James Lecesne
Highland Son (Highland Sorcery: A New Dawn)
Clover Autrey
Ashura The Tale of the Imam Hussien
Najim al-Khafaji
Maybe the Moon
Armistead Maupin
The Magician's Mistake (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 1)
Katherine Sparrow
The Camel of Destruction
Michael Pearce
Cyclops (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)
Ranko Marinkovic
Brock: A Bad Boy Romance
Amy Kyle
'Twas the Chihuahua Before Christmas
Esri Allbritten
Kiss Me Like You Mean It
Dr. David Clarke