Operation Last Ditch Effort

Prologue

The one day it matters. The one freaking day. For Pete's sake. The fate of the planet rides on this. And I forget the stupid alarm.

A curly headed man wearing a pale blue suit and red tie stumbles into the large room filled with shouts and fists slamming onto tables. He wobbles down the aisle pulling at his pants while balancing the stack of files held in place by his chin. Making it to the front he drops the files down with a quiet thud onto a desk with a name tag reading 'Irvin James'. The table taller than the others sits at the center of the room where ten people sit up in the blue chairs that match Irvin's own suit.

Shouts continue to swirl around the room as Irvin takes his seat adjusting his red tie in the process.

I hate ties. They're an infernal creation. Stupid alarm. I'm not too late thank God.

A woman in a mustard colored top and green glasses asks "What are we to do?"

"We haven't any time left. Will we ever find a solution?" A man dressed in all black yells from behind. He leans against the table in front of him, resting his chin on his left hand, waiting for the answer that never comes.

Keep it together people. Geesh.

A man with brown eyes and red hair sitting next to Irvin shakes his head as he mumbles, "No time. No time." The redheaded man rocks back and forth in his chair rubbing his already reddened knuckles.

God they've lost it. Well thank God I'm here. Or they'd all be screwed.

A woman with ebony skin and dark locks twisted into a bun leans forward and taps the mic in front of her asking, "What are our options?"

A man with salt and pepper hair slicked-back sits behind the front table banging his fist into the wood as he yells, "Silence."

The room slowly turns to the sound of the continuing pounding.  Irvin scans the room to see the others finally taking their seats fixing their appearances as they all seem to huff in frustration as one. The room zeroes in on the noise and all eyes land on the man's dark eyes that once matched his aging locks. Out of the corner of his eye, Irvin watches the man with the red bowtie rub his now reddened hand. The name tag in front of him reads 'Oliver Smith'.

Smith clears his throat before continuing, "Now we must not let this situation get the better of us. We are here to discuss the options we have available. As professionals, we should be able to speak in an orderly fashion without losing our heads."

Precisely. We have to remain calm. Some people.

The others at the head table nod their heads in agreement. Irvin surveys the room to see several arms crossed and mouths pursed.

Smith goes on, "Let's start by addressing the issue."

As the lights begin to dim a large screen behind the head table comes to life.  A map of the world appears behind Mr. Smith and his colleagues with most places on the map flooded with tiny red dots.

Smith uses a laser to point as he speaks, "These red dots represent the population in the area. As you can clearly see the land is almost entirely red. From our last report, the population has increased at a faster rate than anticipated. Cities are overflowing around the world, Hong Kong, London, New York, and Toyko are a few that have grown ten times the rate expected."