Nature Rules - 2022 WATTY'S SHORTLIST

Thanks But No Thanks

Despite the earlier ruckus, no one has gone home. If anyone misses this event he or she will be punished. They could have their house taken away or worse, be put in the Silo, a prison renowned for its violent guards and peaceful prisoners. (Many innocent people are put in the Silo or so says Dad.) Settlers are now piling into the feasting tent and getting ready for the large meal.

We make our way into the marquee with the rest of the crowd. Those who don't fit around the benches are relegated to sitting on the ground and even outside. We're lucky enough to secure seats together at one of the many long tables. I move away from Syon in case he thinks I'm going to chat his ear off and sit across from his mother.

Through the din of bodies settling, I spot Dad. He walks towards us with a grim look on his face. He musses the top of Elody's head as he sits down beside Mom on the bench. He leans in to whisper something in her ear, something she didn't want to hear by her frown.

The tent is brimming beyond capacity. There's no room to move. At all. Yet here come the Motos, both SCMs and privates, marching in: forcing settlers to shrink away from them in fear and contort in weird ways so the police won't step on their feet or hands.

Goliath leads the Motos to the centre of the room with his (seemingly) customary, yet weird, sashay. His hair is smoothed back like nothing had happened a couple of hours ago. He is as calm as when he was terrorizing us and waits until the law force has totally encircled the inside of the pavilion. I bite the inside of my cheek. The taste of blood fills my mouth and it's fitting since this hulking monster is a bringer of pain.

It's a tight squeeze in the tent with the settlers and Motos. It's growing hotter and hotter, making me uncomfortable. I flick sweat dripping down my nose while other mops their brows or necks. The Motos are cool. They wear no expressions on their faces. It's almost like they're not human.

"Greetings," says Goliath. He's speaking neither quietly or loudly yet somehow his voice travels all the way to the back of the tent to where we're sitting.

"It is the anniversary of the date when the world was awakened to the greatness of our leader – Lucius Sebastian. He has brought us out of the darkness and into the light. He has made our Earth one and is one with the Earth. He helped us put down our weapons and learn to love each other. He is delivering us from famine and bringing us into a time of plenty. He is the provider of weather. He is the bringer of rain. We love him as our one and only true leader and god."

Silence. No clapping. No murmurs of doubt. The grim giant goes on.

"He has sent me as his envoy to ensure the settlers of 33 have heard and understand a new strategy his Worldship is rolling out for all our betterment. It's called the We in Weather project and reconnects us all to the life elements of our planet. In order for everyone to be a part of this impetus, every adult over the age of 18 will proceed to the town he or she lived before the New Year's War to register for the annual grand census."

A buzz erupts from the settlers. My mother isn't saying anything but I can tell it's not good news. She's pursing her lips in an attempt not to shout out in anger. Her hands are clenched into fists and I'm scared she's going to use them.

Instinctively, I reach out and place my hand over hers. She visibly loosens but now looks sad.

Once the chattering wave stops in the room, Goliath begins talking again like nothing has happened.

"You have two months to travel to your respective locations. If anyone would like assistance, please let one of our police officials know. We would be happy to help secure your journey. Happy feasting. Pray our great Lord and Supreme Leader Sebastian reigns forever."