Fates and lives were being decided somewhere deep underground, in a dimly lit room full of grim looking men, all staring at the file placed before them. The ten men gathered around the circular mahogany table were not blinking, concentrating instead on the grim realization they faced. The last puffs of smoke from the recently put out cigars wafted up, past the eyes of the men and towards the projector which provided the room with its only light. The projector had just two words on it:
OPERATION APATE
Thursday, August 13, 2009
0500 GST
Adam Kjartansson was just starting his shift as the newest member of Patrol 5D of the Trans-Caucasus Canal Authority. It paid well even if the TCCA police were considered a joke by the others. So what if they never saw any action? Adam had only ever glimpsed at a Slavorussian soldier in the distance past the many fences and barbed wire which separated the canal from Slavorussia, but he wasn’t complaining. Being a hero was not something Adam desired, though the beers he had chugged last night did make him feel slightly courageous.
He walked into the administration building and opened his locker. Taser on the right, handcuffs on left, baton in the hole on his belt, shiny badge pinned to his light blue shirt. Just like every normal day, he muttered about getting a real firearm under his breath before exiting the building to join his partner Frank, who was waiting outside. The two smiled when they saw each other and started walking down the trail on the side of the canal, taking the same patrol route they had been walking for the past few months.
0730 GST
Forseti Ty Eyvindsson adjusted his tie as he looked in the mirror. The blood red, black, and gold tie looked ridiculous to him, but he knew the masses would love to see his tie resemble their nation’s flag. This was not the first public address he was making today, and it most certainly not the last. The nervousness had subsided after the first few months of being in office, and he knew he had a talent for public speaking. He gave a grin smug, knowing that his speaking and acting today would be flawless, like normal. He couldn’t wait to see the Groendlandian Times praise his speech on healthcare, and he couldn’t wait to burn the copy of the New Groenlandian Post which would undoubtedly paint him as the most unqualified man to run the nation. Garbage and a waste of paper, he mumbled under his breath as he finished with his tie. He walked outside the room and the mansion to the waiting car, knowing the papers would have a real story soon enough.
0745 GST
Chad R. Cheas was the most excited he had been in his life, not that his five years of existence had been long enough to see many momentous events. He looked out of the window on the bus headed toward Ufa Public Kindergarten 11 and tried to contain all the excitement he felt. Taking his field trip to the Nordlandic War Memorial with his class would be an experience he would never forget, and he made sure to bring a camera o capture the moment he longed for. Wow, he thought, to see one of the most beautiful monuments in existence commemorating the dead on both sides, honoring the soldiers, the profession he wished to go into when he grew up. To be immortalized…
0945 GST
Adam Kjartansson and Frank were almost done with their five hour shift, both of their stomachs rumbling furiously knowing lunch was so close. The walked along the trail towards the administration building, past the serious of locks which made the canal work so smoothly. Adamn glanced at the canal workers on the lock, desperately working to make sure the super tanker MVW Phoenix could squeeze into the lock system. There were dozens of men on either side and on the boat, all shouting different phrases in different languages. Adam grinned, at least he wasn’t one of those pour souls. As he was turning his head back to the path, he caught an unusual glint on the corner of his eyes. He quickly glanced back, and saw something strange. Did that group of barrels next to the lock have some sort of red light on them? He nudged Frank who looked where Adam pointed. Puzzled, the two men decided to take a closer look, close enough to make sure they were fulfilling their job yet quick enough to get to lunch on time. The two men trotted down through the vegetation separating the trail from the cement wall of the canal and stopped just short of the group of barrels, stationed strategically on the edge of one of the locks that had the MVW Phoenix trapped. After catching their breath, they looked at one of the barrels closely. It had some sort of electronic mechanism attached to it, with lights blinking. What did it say? Was that a five? Wait a four? Just as the lights flashed a one, the two junior patrolmen slowly looked at each other, jaws dropping. Just as Adam lifted a leg to run, a flash of light enveloped the scene…
Forseti Ty Eyvindsson was on a roll. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand, bending to his every whim, cheering at every pause he made. If this speech didn’t fire up the citizens and Senatus enough to approve his healthcare reforms, nothing on the Earth would be capable of doing so. Ty basked in the applause and after looking down at the podium for a second to catch his breath, he looked back up at the teleprompters which had the beginning of his next paragraph to recite. He opened his mouth, ready to mesmerize the crowd, when he noticed something unusual on one of the teleprompters. He could see a small reflection of himself, but what was that red dot on his chest? He squinted, and suddenly the world went black, with only the screams of women in the distance as he fell to the ground, numb and swallowed by the shadows.
Chad and his kindergarten had just finished eating a snack at the memorial. The teachers had learned early on a snack of pretzels and juice could calm the more than 500 kindergarteners at the memorial. Though slightly embarrassed by the children’s behavior and occasionally giving a tourist an apologetic look, the teachers knew kids would be kids and left them to their own devices for the most part. Chad and a group of friends stared at the gigantic front face of the sculpture. “Comon, get in front of the sculpture, I’ll take your picture,” Chad encouragingly prodded his friends. His friends agreed and ran up to the base while Chad walked away from the memorial, far enough so that he would be able to get all the beauty in the picture. A few hundred feet away, Chad shouted “THREE, TWO, ONE….” His chubby finger pressed the button, and as he heard the camera click, the sky and surroundings turned white.

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