Moebius 2157 | ONC2019 Short List [Complete]

9 | Wasteland

A few more individuals she recognized from before the collapse – rich people who had bought themselves a seat of power on this council. It was odd how even in 2157, when everything had gone to shit and people were living in underground bunkers like rats, money, of all things, still held so much value that it could buy that kind of power.

What had once been countless ministries and an entire parliament governing a country had been reduced to two dozen people in this room, their power distilled into something much more acute. These people controlled everything in the bunker city – what people ate, how much water they would get, how much space they would get to live.

Alyssa didn't know all their names, but she had seen this group of people convene before, except that back then, she had stood watch outside the door, and not peeped from a ventilation shaft above.

"May we commence this session now?" Varga, the head of Resource Management asked once everybody had taken a seat.

"Franklin, I'd recommend you ask your attachés to wait outside."

The woman who had spoken sat with her back to Alyssa and was one of the few she couldn't recognize at all. She seemed tall, even as she sat, and wore a dark pantsuit that contrasted with her thick, white hair that she wore in a braid down her back.

Franklin, who was sitting at the far side of the table, raised his balding head and looked at her.

"I trust these men, Nadja," he replied, glowering at the woman across the table.

"At least have them wait over there," the woman said, and gestured to a corner of the room behind her, "It is really hard to focus on a conversation with you with those two brutes waving their weapons around behind your back."

Franklin was about to object, but after staring at the woman for a few moments, he cast down his gaze and nodded. He gestured the guards to do as she had said and they moved into the corner, coming to stand exactly below Alyssa's hiding spot now.

Alyssa could barely believe her eyes. She had never witnessed Franklin submit to anyone. She wondered who this woman, Nadja, was.

"Let us commence the meeting, then," Varga suggested. "You all know why we are gathered here today. The situation is dire, and we are running out of options."

"How much longer have we got?" a small man with a potbelly asked, waving his hand at his sweaty face. He was one of the rich people.

"If we continue to ventilate all sectors as we do currently, we can stretch it for another six weeks, or perhaps eight, max."

"And how long until we can access the surface again?"

"Current estimates are... pessimistic. News from the surface have come in irregularly over the last few weeks and as you all know our monitoring stations have long since been damaged. We rely on the updates of our remaining forces in orbit. Last reports speak of radiation levels and a toxic atmosphere that will be barely habitable in three months, earliest."

A murmur went through the room, and Alyssa tensed in her hiding spot. To hear it spelled out so clearly and rationally was ten times worse than listening to the feverish confession of Travis the Computer Guy in the canteen.

"So we have no other choice, then," Varga said flatly. "We will initiate the-"

"Varga," the white-haired woman said, a warning tone to her voice.

"Well, what else would you have me do, Nadja?"

Alyssa could feel goosebumps rise up on her skin. Whatever were they talking about?