Dystopia
Page 9
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The train moved swiftly along the railroad tracks at 250 mph. President Klens barely noticed it. Her luxurious train moved so smoothly, it was as though she were actually in her own bed on a calm night. She settled in a plush, soft chair, placing her feet on the footrest and looking forward to being in her accommodations when she arrived at the eastern capital. Though they had done their best to make her train comfortable, she still ended up with a few aches and pains.
Oh, the rigors of traveling, thought the president. She wished she didn’t have to make these constant trips to show the people that she cared. The truth was, she didn’t.
“What is on the agenda after we arrive?” asked President Klens.
“You are to visit the agricultural sector,” said Williams, her secretary. “After that, it is off to the Waste Management plant.”
President Klens groaned. She hated going to these places. Her secretary insisted on it as a way to convince the people that she actually felt affection toward them. Her father never liked it either, but went along with it. It kept the masses from rebelling. If it was good enough for him, then it should be for me.
The odorous stench of those places always made her stomach sick. And the grime, she thought to herself. Last time, she had gotten one of her $500 shoes coated in muck. She couldn’t bear to wear them after that and had them thrown away.
“Is it cold there this time of year?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” said Williams. “It is still tolerable this time of year.”
“When will we return to the Los Angeles Basin?”
“In about two weeks.”
President Klens wished it were sooner. The weather never changed there and was always warm. And her mansion was there. She looked out the window and the world that whizzed past. “Such a waste.”
Williams glanced out the window at what had been dubbed the Wasteland. Waste or not, she thought, there was no living thing out here. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his philosophy to always humor the president.
“Is there any chance that we can harness the potential of this area?”
“I don’t know, ma’am, except for oil,” replied Williams. “It is truly a barren wasteland. Only sand. Nothing grows out here, and no one tries to live out here, except thieves and bandits.”
“Just as well. Let them rot out there.”
“Anyway, it isn’t as though we need this arid place,” said Williams. “The southern region of the east provides what food we need. They even produce the cigars you are so fond of. The northern region gives us our coal. The northwest provides what lumber we need, and Waste Management takes care of the garbage.”
“How true. But I am not so sure of things like you are.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, hurry up and get this train where we need to go,” said President Klens. “The sooner I get this PR mission over with, the sooner I can return to my home and the people that truly matter.”
“Don’t forget, you are also to meet with Seth Michaels.”
“Who is he?”
“The First Councilman of the Eastern Region. He has a few ideas that might be of use to you. I suggest placating the man.”
“Very well.”
President Klens moved from her plush chair to a couch with a silk lining. The chair was too lumpy for her taste. Perhaps the couch would be better.