A budding writer with a bunch of ingenious rebels risk their lives to try and overthrow an oppressive government to earn back their liberty of expression. They need to unify and put aside their differences, interests and pasts, and race against time...
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Mr President didn't seem too surprised that they had brought him to another place. He had been unusually docile. Alizeh had a bad feeling about this all, but she shrugged it off as they prepared to record another statement.
"I need you to give orders to make new satellites to establish connection with the moon again," she instructed.
"The satellites were never destroyed, lady. You all were fooled into believing that," he gave a low chuckle, visibly impressed with his own cunning ways.
She scrolled through the numbers on his phone and dialled the number of his Space and Extraterrestrial Communications.
"That's even better," she pressed the phone to his ears, "so instruct him to start communication at once and send spacecraft to get them back. The ones on the moon. What kind of a monster are you to leave them stranded on a barren satellite?"
Fletcher didn't reply to that and continued staring at her with an impassive look.
"Oh right, you're a monster all the while," Jurian rolled his eyes, "now do it."
His facial expression didn't change as the president barked instructions on the phone.
A few silent moments passed.
"Wow guys! Look at this," Cyanide broke the silence, sharing her screen with them and people were tweeting and Instagramming at random about how their MoonPhones were acting again. People on all clouds were in tears as they could talk again with their families. Someone's parents, others' children, someone's friend.
The happiness in the eyes of the images flooding the internet moved Alizeh to tears. She longed to leave everything and call her parents just then, but she knew her duty.
"Anything else?" Jurian looked at her.
"You're forgetting why this started in the first place,'" Alizeh moved near the President again, "Now be good and record one more statement for us. There will be no more censoring of words and art or photography. We'll have the freedom of speech which we had before the war."
"You're heating the world for another war or what?" the President was suddenly angry, "Do you even realise why I made the rules which I made? It's not that I wanted to suppress everyone and deny them their rights," he stopped to take a breath.
"We don't have time for this bullshit," Jurian muttered.
"Wait. I want to hear him out," Alizeh countered.
"People misuse their freedom of speech to ignite hate and spread false messages. They misuse the freedom to warp pictures, change history and modify the beliefs of millions. Art is a deception, writing is a lie. These all so-called 'free birds' actually led to the world war which wiped out our earth."
Alizeh swallowed nervously. She knew every one of those words were true.
"Rights come with responsibilities," she said finally. The strain was evident in her voice. She didn't seem so sure about her next words, "Punish those that misuse the rights. Don't take away the rights."
"It doesn't work in that way. People have ways to cheat the law and work around the supervision of the government. So I chose to ban it altogether. Don't you think I know that people still do these stuff underground?"
"Alizeh, we don't have time," urgency rang clear in Jurian's voice.
Alizeh sighed in defeat, "Just record it and grant them the freedom," she started the machine. Fletcher instructed loudly and clearly that henceforth, there will be no censoring of media or writing. The internet would be free and open.
"Also stop deporting the weak and infirm, back to the earth. Those that has serviced the community all their lives, deserve protection when they can't do so anymore," Jurian added.
The president ranted it all as a parrot. Alizeh transferred it to cyanide and waited for a reply.
Time seemed to tick by agonizingly. Every moment she was aware of the danger growing bigger and bigger, looming like a monster over their heads. They had to get out fast.
"Got it and transferred," Cyanide finally whispered after a good ten minutes.
"Congratulations, we did it," Alizeh beamed, almost collapsing with relief.
"Yes. Finally after all this..."
Crack!
A loud noise from the other side, made them jump apart in fright. It was followed by gruff voices and a shrill cry, followed by another loud crack!
"Gunshots," Alizeh's hands were shaking. Jurian's face was ashen, "Nọ, she didn't. It's not that. She wouldn't."
"Cyanide," Alizeh screamed in a hysterical fit.
The silence at the other end was deafening. Alizeh's heart sank. Either Cyanide had been captured or she had shot herself. This was so not right. They were supposed to celebrate. Fate was a cruel player. Alizeh felt a hollow in her chest, as if the life had been sucked out from inside her. Jurian was standing there frozen.
A loud bang above their own heads alerted them to the fact that the danger could be more than what had happened already.
Fletcher suddenly laughed out loud, in a mocking way, "Did you think I was so naive? Did you think we'd let the rebels win? You're just foolish and impulsive babies."
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