Whoever has highjacked the broadcast is now showing pictures that illustrate my words. Wars, gladiator fights, people of many species behind bars.
There’s a picture of a male in a wheelchair without legs. At first, I think it’s someone who looks like Altair, then I realize itisAltair. Sly fox. He knew this was coming. When Xzavic was dealing with Monteen, we cooked this up together. I was so relieved to hear he was in a Resistance Safe House. He said the authorities raided his bunker within minutes of us leaving his house, but he’d been prepared and escaped through a back route.
I look at the screen on the nearest drone. Before my speech, the numbers were flying next to both of our names. I had one hundred votes to every one of Xzavic’s. It’s not surprising. Everyone loves an underdog.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this competition resulted in a tie?” I ask.
Within seconds, my numbers stop climbing and his are rolling so fast it’s hard to read. Half a minute later, he’s surpassed me. Then both numbers start going up. One second he’s ahead then three seconds later I am. Then again, his surge up.
“Stop!” I say. “It’s impossible for you to get our scores even. Your votes are only making the network richer, anyway. What do you say? Shall we agree our votes should be even? That neither of us must die today?”
One person in the crowd screams, “Neither!” then the chant begins. “Neither! Neither!” It’s loud. Thunderous. There are so many voices saying just the one word over and over that the quickly erected stage vibrates from the noise.
“Enough!” Katann Hahn’s face fills the screens. The network has regained control of the broadcast. His face is quivering in anger. His desire to murder us is clear.