One week. One week was all it had taken to rise through the ranks, now about to get his fourth pair of red and blue squares on his chest. He had always been exceptionally skilled at impressing his so-called superiors.
He was starting to catch on here. The soldiers under his command only saw a series of unrelated skirmishes, probably overzealous training exercises from generals with nothing better to do, but he knew better. There was a pattern to these attacks. Factoring in the rotation of the galactic disc, the small, temporary bases they were setting up would form an enormous circle in the near future. And a project this big had to be coming straight from the emperor.
There was something somewhere within that circle that was apparently very important to the higher-ups. And maybe it was time to be a little more proactive about it... and earn some leverage.
It was time for some change.
***
Robama made a mental note to get his recitation algorithms looked at, hopefully before the next time he had to take the oath of office. The failsafe mechanism had taken far too long to kick in yesterday, and he was afraid many people were already suspecting the truth. Hopefully he had earned some points back with that great dancing he did a few hours later.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the White House, Joe was hard at work testing out the flavors of the gum stuck to the back of the presidential bookcase. It was a tough squeeze getting back there, and quite frankly, at this point he wasn't completely sure how or why he had gotten back there in the first place, but as it turned out, the former presidents and vice presidents in this room had owned some really tasty flavors of gum, so it was pretty much worth it. He would have to ask Nancy to add a few million for a presidential gum museum next time he saw her.
He was now reaching for a lump more brightly colored than any other piece he had seen before. The neon green of that gum -- probably indicating a delicious lime flavor, his second or third favorite -- was calling out to him like a horned owl calls out to PeTA. Nothing else mattered, least of all the pain in his limbs as he strained to reach it. A little farther... farther... oops.
The bookshelf came crashing down with an earsplitting thud, landing facedown on its spilled books. This was going to take a while to clean up. Startled by the noise, Hillary quickly yet deliberately stuck her head through the doorway.
"Something fall again, Joe?"
"Yeah," Joe admitted sheepishly.
Hillary sighed, trying to convey her weariness, though unable to suppress a bit of amusement and playfulness. She was on a schedule, though, so without any more delay, she quickly walked over to the fallen credenza and, with one swift motion, lifted it back up on its feet. She would have loved to stay and help Joe put the books back on it, but she didn't have the time now. Besides, he had done it so many times already that he probably didn't need much help anymore.
As Hillary slinked back out of the room, Joe's embarrassment started to sink in. How could he have been so stupid? Ever since middle school, he just turned into a complete klutz around pretty girls like her. He scolded himself -- he shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that. Both he and she were married, professional adults. They were both better than that. Even if there were a chance of a relationship, it would be wrong... or at least not a good choice politically. That worked a bit better.
But all that would soon be forgotten. Joe noticed a book that he couldn't recall seeing on this shelf before. About the size of a notebook, all black, and made out of some mysterious material he couldn't quite figure out. He flipped through it... almost totally blank, but for a dark page at the beginning with a long list of items written in rough lettering. Giving them only a cursory glance at first, they soon caught his full attention. Had it really said that? He looked again.
The human whose name is written in this note will die.
OMG TO BE CONTINUED?!?!
