You too would run, desperate and dogged, if you looked outside your window and found that the horizon was just a line of trees on fire, or if at the sound of a siren, you found yourself waist-deep in muddy waters.
While your country falls apart around you, contacting the local authorities for a passport would not be your first course of action. With thick smog, grey and choking, dirty water dripping from taps, a corrupt unfeeling government, plastic in your child's food, you would not wait weeks—or, months—for permission to escape.
Why is it so hard for them to understand this?
I glare at the news reporter, on the wide screen, as she stands before a swarm of climate refugees at the Silver Valley border and answers the inane questions posed by the anchors in our cushy studio.
"Is it worth the risk of being charged for illegal entry?" The anchor asks.
Illegal entry. I chew the inside of my cheek till my mouth tastes like a wired fence.
Another delay in international help has resulted in a new inflow of refugees from the Iberian peninsula. Their government's failure to handle the drought has been extensively covered by us, but lately we have been reducing the number of minutes dedicated to it.
Prime time hours are precious, and it is the year of provincial elections. It is more important to report on the profiles of the same politicians of the same party, once again.
We are in the conference room where we typically have our rundown meetings. Furnished with a bright marble-like desk, and comfortable chairs; this room is not designed to accommodate more than ten people at a time. Currently, it is holding twice that many bodies. The unlucky half, the newly hired interns, stand all around us, as close as they can.
The one behind me is wringing her hands with nervousness.
I whisper to her when I think no one is looking at me. "It's okay. You should be happy you're working under an executive producer that's giving the crisis any screen time at all."
Ara, our executive producer, is many things but she is not incompetent. I had interned under a few different EPs before landing my job at the Reverent. It had taken just one meeting for me to realize that she was different. The unassuming petite woman that powered The Reverent's edge over other networks.
"I'm willing to give the crisis two minutes after the first block. Nothing more." She declares and quickly moves on.
The new-old template is brought up on to the screen, replacing the live 22nd hour feed. A revised chart consisting of the names of the five districts in our province, the rumored candidates, and the three neat blocks that the prime time segment is divided into.
"We will be covering each district one by one by the end of this month. We want to provide a brief idea of the most pressing issues in each district, and how they have—or, have not—been handled since the last elections." Ara explains with her eyes angled towards the interns.
They listen attentively, and my heart clenches in recognition. When did this ambition and righteous anger disappear for my colleagues? When did they turn into these drones, walking along chain-link fences, speaking over the pleading masses, asking questions like, "How can we just let anyone and everyone in? What about our quality of life?"
Ara continues. "We start with Northside obviously, because that is where we are based." Lie. We start with the district of Northside because that's where the money is.
"We move over to our neighbours, Bex and Redbridge. We spend an entire week on their overlapping issues. Then comes Westside, and finally, Everton."
Ara tilts her head towards some of the bored senior employees and remarks pointedly. "Don't be fooled by the template, or your familiarity and knowledge of the many district-level issues. This is the most unpredictable and volatile period of reporting. Small mistakes can have disastrous consequences. Unexpected candidacies lead to complete overhaul of plans."
"For example." Someone from the back cuts in. "Councilman Hamdi's candidacy for Everton last term."
My spine straightens at the mention of his name.
"Exactly." Ara nods. "And then he won, and we had to stay overnight to help the website create a new landing page."
YOU ARE READING
Kingdom Come
Mystery / ThrillerIn the face of climate collapse, life has been trudging on as usual. The rich have gotten richer, countries have fortified their borders, and elections have remained a game of deception. London, a passionate journalist, has clung to the belief that...
