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Crown of Red

Lehansa Marambage

"Ready?"  


"Ready."  


"Are you sure the readings aren’t off? Is it safe enough today?"  


"With numbers like that, there’s no question about the numbers being safe."  


“I don’t know….”  


The din of the crowd subsided as soft acid-rain fell Outside on a hazy Thursday  afternoon. The bunker’s skylight aperture had opened to a massive window. 


Reporters and photographers at the front were crushed against the great, thick anti-UV glass, like children vying for the best view of the Outside.  


To escape Earth’s hostile, ever-changing climate everyone had been forced to reside in underground bunkers. First there were the years of rain: floods that swept away neighborhoods. Then came  the drought: failed crops; hungry people. When the Chancellor’s own family felt  the pangs of hunger he ordered everyone to the deserted underground cities left from nuclear war in the 2040s. 


A metallic lift quickly hoisted a severe-looking wolf of a man onto a platform by  the window.  The Chancellor coughed. The crowd hushed. 


“As you may have heard, after 20 years, conditions on Earth have become favorable once again,” he asserted blandly.  


“If I may add, Chancellor--” began a timid, young terraspec at the corner of the stage.


“T202 MAY NOT. Not now. MAY NOT!”  


The crowd watched passively as T202 was dragged off the stage, past the lowered eyes of the remaining terraspecs. The young man’s government-issued, blood-red hard hat fell and remained on the stage, a poignant reminder of his  sudden exit.  


“Maybe later,” the Chancellor added as an afterthought. Like the wilted acid-rain flowers that grew Outside, the remaining terraspecs huddled together in a disorganized bright red semi-circle. 


“Shouldn’t we check...” one terraspecialist whispered to the person on his right. 


“The Chancellor said we’ll check later.” 


“But, I think T202 was ri--”  


“Later, T204!”  The Chancellor coughed again and cast a pointed look at the line of squirming  scientists. “As I was saying,” he began with unusual vim. “Earth is ready to be reinhabited! The noxious air and acidic rain is gone for now!” 


The crowd roared. Holding his arms out by the great window, the Chancellor posed for photos, as if he were the reason the Earth was habitable again; as if he were gifting the world to his loyal followers. The circle of bright red on the stage began to shrink. T204 looked on helplessly as half the cluster of scientists collapsed in shock at the Chancellor’s announcement. T204 leaned against the bunker window and saw one acid-rain flower straining toward the bunker awning. Pearls of acid rain quickly dissolved its wilted blue stem and bare roots. Only a crown of red petals remained.  


“...will be sending our very first humans to the Outside!” 


The crowd burst into cheers. 


T204 felt a sudden feeling of dread, like the time when, as a child, he had evaded his robot nanny’s search and had climbed up to the covered, square skylight in  their apartment. Placing his hand in a ray of unfiltered sunlight, he had watched in alarm as the skin burned off his palm.  


“Thank you for your service and your commitment to our country, T203, T204,  T205, and T206,” the Chancellor announced heartily to the crowd. 


Before anyone knew what was happening, the remaining terraspecs were stripped of their anti-acid, UV-filtering lab suits. They all clung obstinately to their customary red hats. Reluctantly, they trudged through the bunker opening and to the Outside, shivering as a cloud of smog enveloped the sun’s rays. With wide eyes, the crowd watched. Wind pushed the smog layer away. A blinding beam of unfiltered sunlight and acid-rain fell directly on the group who stood timorously on the Outside’s cracked soil. 


Another crown of red petals fell softly to the ground

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