*States of Change is an ongoing work of serial fiction.The speculative story-line seeks to inspire thought on ethics,culture and our planet's future.Comment as your illusion of free will permits,publishing agents in particular!**
I sit on the edge of my chair.
In front of me, the football game has just entered the third quarter. The Emperor Suite's vista window gives me a great vantage to watch. The klieg ellee-dees turn the bluegrass field into a fluorescent exaggeration of daytime. East Kentucky leads West by six points and 125,557 spectators are howling, some with anger, some with fervor, and some just because it's a football game.
I pause to consider. For some football is a religion. Me, I remain agnostic on the whole religion thing; if there is a higher power and purpose in life it hasn't shown itself to me. Still, I have had a pretty darn good life. My parents loved me and encouraged me to pursue a life that made a difference. My studies enabled me to build a lucrative data resale chain, one of a handful permitted to operate across state borders. My family and friends have brought good times and bad, but mostly good, so I smile.
Behind me the door to the suite has been welded shut on three edges. Five freshly printed Frontier Railers lie precisely on the oversize king bed. Per my range trials each assault rifle should operate reliably for five minutes before overheat begins to set in. At a a thousand rounds a minute that should allow me to get off 25,000 rounds before I'll need to rotate back to the first rail-gun.
The why of the moment is unclear. Because I miss my wife Janesse, ten years dead? Because our kids Lance and Fridae defected to New York to escape the Kentucky fried libertarian landscape? Or perhaps on a less personal level it's because humans need a predator to keep them in check and on their toes? Or maybe it's like that old yarn about the mountain and it just being there, waiting. In the end, who can tell.
I see West has scored, tying the game with just under four minutes to go. I rise. Putting my palm to the window I can feel the acoustic fervor of the crowd reverberating in unintentional unity. I inhale with Zen-like intention then exhale and take a final swallow of my sweet tea.
It is time to make an impact on the state of things.