by Z. M. Wilmot
***
“We’re on!”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Max Sweeney’s voice rang out as he introduced the “Midnight Hour” once again. The fanfare began to play. “Welcome to the Midnight Hour with Max Sweeney!”
“And Katherine Bendecker,” Katherine continued, grinning. “Bringing you all the news fit to report for the midnight crowd!”
“And what a show we’ve got for you tonight!” Max said, beaming. “The International Festival for the Continuation of Peace and Goodwill go into full swing today, with acts like ‘The Lovebirds’ and ‘Twelve Turtledoves’ blowing crowds away! No one has ever seen anything like it!”
Except for the festival last year. And the year before that, Katherine thought. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
Why not spice things up a little? the voice in the back of her head suggested. The voice back there had been telling her to do that for a long time, but she had always pushed it down and away. Tonight, though, the voice seemed more insistent.
She smiled even more brightly. Hell. All they can do now is terminate my contract early. And is that really so bad?
The answer, of course, was no. Her contact lens told her to begin speaking on the “overabundance crisis” in Sudan, but she decided that something more interesting should be going on there.
“And in Sudan today we had a most astonishing turn of events,” she said. “Angry at the government stockpiling of excess grain, peasants in the African nation raided a secret armaments factory that escaped the mass disbandment following the Peace Accord of 2080. They burned down the silo keeping the excess grain and laid siege to the government houses in Khartoum. We currently have no footage, but hope to obtain some soon.”
There was a stunned silence for a moment from Max. After a few more moments, he cleared his throat and plunged onwards, failing to react to her revelation.
“And the Fijian fishing season has begun without any trouble…”
Katherine wore a smug grin for the rest of the broadcast, and Max had almost recovered his stride by the end of the show.
“And done! Katherine, what the hell was that?”
Katherine smiled at Morgan and patted him lightly on the head. “What viewers wish they were hearing about.” Without another word, she walked out of the building, leaving the confused staff of Channel 78 behind her.