"Men and women of Terra today is a day to be proud of. You are the first of many workers our nation will rely on in the future. You have far exceeded our expectations. You may not see it that way, but your task is as important as that of any soldier. Our fleets will conquer the void between the stars and our poor will free our lost brothers and sisters. But they will not do it without the help of thousands or even millions of hands. Your hands will shape steel, forge weapons and create a nation worthy to reach the stars. Thank you for accepting this task."
The workers of the New Industrial District applaud as High Marshall Michael leaves the stage. He talks to some foremen and leaders. Thanked them personally, discussed how they were going to do their jobs and looked at some new talent. Then he got into the car that would take them back to the seat of government. The car was big and had dark mirrored windows. Across from him in the car sat High Marshall Abidemi.
"Very well done Michael. You should be proud of yourself." Abidemi praised Michael.
"Do you know how nervous I was up there? I've never done this before and now I'm supposed to speak in front of thousands. I am a theorist, an analyst, I look at demand, production and consumption. I am not one to talk. Does that actually work?" Michael shakily reached for a bottle of Snaps.
"You've done very well and I know it's not easy for you, which is why I'm so grateful you did it. Since we told the human part of the truth, we need every bit of popularity we can get. I still think this is a mistake, it could cause us problems in the future."
"All I know is that productivity dropped after we admitted this." He opened the bottle and poured himself a generous glass.
"See that's where it starts. Unproductivity, dissatisfaction, REBELLION. This nation is built on trust."
Michael finished the glass "don't people have to trust us?"
"We have to trust the people too. We get that by them believing in us. We create faith through the right information. Wrong information reduces faith in us. They don't trust us and we don't trust them. It is like marriage, you will not tell your wife that she looks ugly. If you keep quiet about some things it makes everyone happier."
"You have a strange understanding of trust and marriage." The dark-skinned Abidemi just shrugged. The car braked jerkily.
"Sirs?" Came through the speakers from their driver.
Abidemi presses the button on his armrest. "Yes? Why are we stopping?"
"Sirs, the road is blocked."
"WHAT!?" Roars Abidemi. "Back up."
"Can't, there are vehicles behind us too." Michael looked out the windows and saw a solid stone wall. Two shots echoed through the street and hit the car. Michael poured himself another glass of liquor and finished it.
Abidemi pressed the button, "Driver?" No answer. Abidemi sank into the seat and reaches out for the bottle. Michael hands it to him and Abidemi just drank from the bottle. Michael opened the door and got out, Abidemi followed him and carefully closed the door behind him.
It was afternoon and there were dark clouds in the sky. 'Maybe it will rain,' Michael thought absently. The road they were on had only two lanes, one in each direction. To the sides were walls of ruins. In front and behind them were trucks blocking the road. The containers they carried had been reinforced and loopholes were cut into them. In front of the trucks were armed people, but they wore torn and dirty clothes. Michael and Abidemi looked out of place in their uniforms.
Michael and Abidemi walked past the car and saw that the windscreen had been penetrated by two bullets, killing the driver and passenger. In front of them was a line of people raising their rifles. They stood side by side looking into the muzzles of the rifles.
"On your knees." Says one of them.
"I will die standing." Retorts Abidemi.
"You will not die. Well not now." Said the same man. He waved his hand and two others came forward and knocked them unconscious.
They awoke in a dark room with no windows and only one door. They were tied to chairs.
The only door to their wensterless room flew open and a man with two armed guards came in.
The man was the same one who had spoken to them on the street. Now that he was no longer afraid of instant death, he could also take in his appearance. He was of average height and had black hair that was short on the sides and slightly longer in the middle. He also had a full beard that looked a bit wild and covered much of his face. His brown eyes looked at her with disdain.
"How does it feel? When someone else decides about your life. When you're not sure if you're about to die or not, or how long it will be before you do. Now do you know how those 1,136,982 people felt?"
"Excuse me, but there were only 147,765 people." Although Michael was not at all eager to get the man's attention, he replied. Numbers were his speciality and someone who had incorrect data he instinctively wanted to correct.
"It was 1,136,982." Said the man. He smiled coldly. "You don't even know how many you killed. You know nothing of the refugees and those in hiding, and nothing of those not born. You killed them all with your decision to abandon the area."
"Who are you?" Abidemi asks coldly.
"Your enemy."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one you will get."
"But the statistics say that 147,765 live in the selected area." Michael interferes in the conversation again.
"Your data was wrong. I recommend you check them and correct them...
if you can." With that he stood up and left.