Zion

27 - A President's Speech

Nathan Jones

Until now I can’t believe that General Smith is dead. I don’t want to believe it yet. But the more I try to refuse the reality, the more it is slapped to my face. The sad thing is, I don’t have the luxury to mourn over his death.

I have to get a hold of my self because Panes needed me. The people need someone who can uplift their spirits, especially after experiencing such great loss. As of this moment, I carry that responsibility.

President Gana has been confined, and tragically speaking, he has recently lost his mind. The trauma and events are too much for him to handle. I have a suspicion though that it is more than that. But it is too early for me to suspect something.

General Smith is dead. Our Lieutenant General, Sire George, lost his right arm in the battlefield and his body has been seriously damaged. It will take three months for him to fully recover. Even if he does recover quickly, I’m afraid he will step down from his rank—losing his arm also means losing his credibility as a Lieutenant General.

We don’t have a Vice-president because we’re not really democratic—though people elect their President. Our government only consists of a President and army officials. Whoever is the President he is privileged to select his own army officers, that’s how it works in Panes.

My superiors in the army are confined in the hospital along with Sire George. But unlike Sire George, the Colonel and my other superiors’ condition are not really serious. However, none of them wants to take over the responsibility that President Gana has left. None of them wants to face the grief, sorrow, anger, need and complaints of the Panesh people. Ah, what a sad fact. Those superiors got nothing but self-preservation.

And so right now, I am the acting President. Someone needs to be in authority in order to unite the people, and I will keep this status until such time we are ready to elect another President. Of course, I can’t be the President by appointment. People need to elect. But we are not yet in the condition to do such thing.

“Excuse me, Sire, the people are waiting.” I look up to see the front mirror of the limousine car, then I meet the natural dark eyes of Nanski. He’s my current driver. I hired him immediately after he has recovered from his wounds. He has a scar on his face now. He said that he got it from the burnt he suffered during a ship explosion. I asked him why he didn’t want to remove it through surgery, and he answered me “I want it this way. The scar is my new fashion. No lenses, plain dress, plain color—I think this suits me now.”

“I can’t make them wait, can I?”

“Of course you can, Sire. But they are grieving and they need to see you, to gather strength.”

“What about me? Where do I get my strength?”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the position to tell you things, Sire. But if I were to say, the people of Panes, their painful faces but hopeful eyes, that’s where you get your strength.”

I smile at him because of that. I gather my thoughts and sigh deeply. Then say, “It is time now. I have decided. Thank you for your words, Nanski.” He nods his head in acknowledgment before he gets out of the limousine, then he opens the door for me.

I get out from the car only to meet the flashing of camera lights, media men rush to my side to get a close-up picture of me. Panesh reporters start throwing their questions, but I ignore them as my guards assist me to arrive on stage. As I come to the pulpit, my heart grieves to see the desperate faces of the people.

“Greetings, people of Panes, this is Nathan Jones.”

“Sire! What will happen to Panes after the war? Is it true that we won’t get in touch of the outside world?” Says a male reporter, he’s wearing a neon green pants.