06: Chloe – Report

“And there’s less than six minutes left on the countdown.”

The words slipped out without drama, without inflection. My delivery was off, tinged by a rising, fatalistic apathy, but the words were good, the kind that grabbed viewer attention. A little pep behind them wouldn’t have hurt. After all, my employers expected a professional.

“For the past week,” I said. “I’ve been a guest of the Kinsley Foundation, famed for their inspirational work housing orphans around the world. I was one of those orphans. The Foundation educated us, raised us and even provided us with jobs. Their works have made the world a better place, inspiring charity and hope to those who were lost. The Foundation has spent more on philanthropy in the past fifty years than the average country spent on war in the last century, and today I found out why.”

The pounding in my chest was distracting and exhausting. Controlled breathing did nothing to calm it. 

“In the past two weeks, three-sided obsidian pyramids have been found in locations of interest across the world, their appearance has baffled even the most dedicated security organisations. Each one is seamless, appearing to be a single solid piece, yet clearly contains technology within. Their faces are touchscreens, displaying data and the capability to capture footage in a variety of visual spectrums, sharing that data with each other across the globe, facial identities included. How they were constructed has opened up debates between engineering firms everywhere.”

Five minutes left. Plenty of time.

 “These pyramids were ultimately dismissed as a artistic hoax or publicity stunt, with rumors spreading of an upcoming New Age event. Both theories, despite differences in approach, have proven correct. A new age is coming and these devices are the publicity stunt used to direct your attention towards it.”

As am I. 

“The pyramids are nuclear. They are weapons, and there’s one in every country on Earth.”

Breath. Inhale, continue. Let them absorb what you said.

“The first pyramid sighting was recorded at Stonehenge, England. Three more were spotted in the United Kingdom over the following weeks, along with other countries and landmarks. Beneath Paris’ Eiffel Tower, on the Great Wall of China, and even perched atop Ayer’s Rock. 

An atomic explosion in North Korea yesterday is believed to have been an unsuccessful attempt to open one.

Last night, however, one appeared on the front lawn of the Whitehouse. Camera and security systems were disabled for ten minutes and no staff witnessed its arrival. The president was evacuated to a secure location while initial inspections were made. However, messages on the faces of the pyramid threatened to explode the device if tampered with or if it is moved from its location, stymying investigations. But I know more.”

I know more? So professional, Chloe.

“The pyramids were created by the Kinsley Foundation. In four minutes, over two hundred and fifty nuclear bombs will explode simultaneously worldwide. The Kinsley Foundation will then begin their new order, and you’ll get to see yours truly blown up here, live on TV.”

A stray sob popped from my lips. Time moved too fast. I clutched my sides and let my tears flow. Blown up on live TV? By a nuke? That had to be a first.

It has to be a first.

Crap. Pros don’t cry.

“I was raised by the Foundation, ran away from my foster home when I was thirteen. The Foundation set up committees in every city to find people like me, those with potential who’d fallen through the cracks, to sort the best and brightest from what was lovingly never referred to as genetic garbage. They got me into an internship. Got me on the news. On TV. They got me thinking I was worth something. Even got me noticed by James Kinsley himself. Twenty hours ago, I thought that was an honor.”

Somewhere in my musings the sobs had subsided. My voice had flattened to monotone. The electronic All-Seeing Eye looked down on me, framing my face in the pyramid’s trianglular sides, packaging my death with a convenient digital clock below my chin.

“The conspiracies were right.” I said. “We just accused the wrong people. Oh, look. Two minutes left on the clock. Two minutes left to live.”

I let that sink in.

“I don’t want to die.”

My nose dripped. My eyes leaked. Was this was how the world would remember me? Not the steadfast reporter detached from her story, but a sobbing weather girl playing journalist?

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m so sorry. Holden, I should have told you I was leaving. I’m so sorry. Fuck.”

The timer hit one minute and my legs collapsed. The camera panned down, capturing my final moments. So this was it. This was my death. A sniveling wreck and an embarrassment to all I’d worked for. So much for professionalism. So much for going out with a bang.

But that’s exactly what it would be. And a big bang at that. One instantaneous flash and my pain would be over. I probably wouldn’t even feel it. Death by nuke would take a zillionth of a second, faster than the human mind could think or comprehend it. As deaths went, it was big. Spectacular. I could hold off the pain and fear for that long, stand on my own two feet and face the camera, face the world and the end.

No need to be brave, Chloe. Just pretend. For a few measly seconds, all you have to do is pretend.

I stood and wiped my face with my sleeve, staring back at my audience, forcing a smile across my cheeks, bright with a light and clear professional calm.

Thirteen seconds. Any last words, Chloe?

“Ladies and gentlemen, and …Guinness World Records? This has been Chloe Heralds, first person in the world to report live from ground-zero of a nuclear explosion, now signing off. Thanks for watching.”

The pyramid flashed as the timer hit zero, and I looked the world in the eye and went out with a bang.