In a dystopian future… Franco’s eyes shot open as he was woken up suddenly
by the roaring engines of a soaring jet. He was able to rush to the grimy
window pane of his cramped apartment complex and catch a glimpse of what it
was that disturbed his sleep. Much to his discontent, he read the jet’s
label perfectly: APT Deployment Service. Franco immediately knew what he
needed to do in order to survive. His time had come. Franco darted to his
bedroom, flipped over his mattress, removed the wooden tiles beneath the
floor and reached for what would soon become the panacea for all distress
that Chancellor Rodger had foisted upon the people of district 101. It
glistened in the moonlight. It weighed heavy in his hands. Sweat beads
started to slowly appear on his forehead and drip on its metallic
structure– enhancing its gleaming appearance; how could a device so
powerful, so deleterious, be so magnificent. 3 minutes. Franco had 3
minutes to prepare until the jet came around. He scurried through the
narrow staircase all the way to the rooftop. His heart was pulsating like
it had never pulsated before. bbbBBBBBBRRRRMMMM. It was time. Franco felt
the steel trigger slowly squeeze beneath his fingertips. Never had he felt
so powerful before in his life. This was hit. Franco would cure
society. *click*. Absolute silence. The night, the rain, the wind:
gone. They all ceased to exist. Pure, ultimate quietude dominated that
moment. Franco’s expression grew from an agonized frown of distress into a
maniacal grin of pure elation. An explosion. It was over. Never again would
there be APTs. Bliss.