I, Cassandra

16 | AMADI EZENWA

'Well he was wrong about everything,' I say as we approach the stop, several other kids are waiting there, a couple wave at me. I wave back. 'Ms Banjupantham said he was probably one of the most dangerous people in history because right when he had the power to make things better, he didn't. He just wanted to make money for himself and his rich friends, and too bad for Earth and the people. And then,' I can hear myself starting to talk fast again. I try to slow down but I can't cause this part really annoys me since it's just so unfair. Dad waits, patient and calm like always and lets me have my rant.

'And then—wait till you hear this—he goes to his rich friends and says, 'Oh maybe it seems like the world isn't going be so good to live in after all, at least not here in America. I say we should build a place where we can go when things get really bad, where we will be safe from the heat and storms, and we can eat baby dolphins.' So he gets together with a bunch of rich people and they start to build a place in Greenland where it's all melted and the polar bears are dead—you know a fancy place, just for them. And then, well, and then, because things were so bad all over, the US military went in and took over the building work, and the government seized the billionaires' money and used it to build all the Alpha and Omega cities in Nunavut and Greenland so it wouldn't just be for a few thousand rich people but for fifty million people from all over the world who are smart, and use science and stuff and want to fix this whole big mess guys like him made.' I lean over the barrier to see if the tram is coming yet. It's not. 'And then you became the president, took over the project, picked all the people, created one army from all the armies of the world called the Global Command Force, and then we moved here, and the bad people stayed behind, and now everything is going to get better. The end.'

My father bites back a smile. 'Baby dolphins?' He lifts a brow. 'Really?'

'Okay,' I admit, although I feel no shame as I look back down the tracks, 'Ms. Banjupantham never said that part. I might have added in a little. I just, you know, wanted to make a point. Anyway, there's no way we can know if he didn't say that.'

'Amadi,' my father says, quiet, 'not all the people who were left in the exclusion zone deserve to be there. Millions of worthy people were left behind, and it's a terrible thing to know I am the one responsible for their fate. You must not think it's as simple as the good guys being here and the bad guys being there. Do not do those people such an injustice. You are better than that.'

His rebuke cuts a swathe through my sass. I glance up at him. The haunted look in his eyes makes me feel terrible. Shame fills me. Me and my big mouth. 'I'm sorry. Really, I didn't mean it, sometimes I just talk without thinking. You're right, it's not that simple and I will do everything I can to learn stuff and make myself worthy of being here. I'll make you proud, I promise.

My father nods, his eyes going to the tram as it glides down the rail towards us, white and silent. 'I know you will, son,' he says, soft. 'I know you will.'

The doors open. I step in and turn around to face him. 'I mean it,' I say as he nods and backs away, having seen me off. A beep starts, warning me the doors will soon close. 'I wanna be a soldier when I grow up,' I call out to him. 'The best soldier ever, with medals all over the place.' The door slides shut. Through the glass window, I salute my dad. As the tram pulls away he salutes me back. Crisp, perfect. Like a president. But he's not smiling. He just looks sad.

***

July 2070

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror as I unbutton my uniform's jacket. Halfway through my thirtieth year and already a major—promoted for discovering a serious fault in the design of the barrier wall, saving Global Command billions, and single-handedly driving the project to its end in record time. Once and for all, the raids against the southern A&O cities and industrial parks in Nunavut would end, or at least would now be manageable. The barrier had been designed to be near impossible to breach: sheer, armed, and patrolled by military drones. It would take a lot to get through, organisation, coordination, and a serious amount of explosives. And even if the UFF did manage to attack, we would be waiting for them. No more easy pickings for them, no more running around in circles after an elusive aggressor always one step ahead. Today, along with my promotion, I had been given command of the forces controlling the barrier's nearly eight hundred kilometre length. A huge responsibility. One I would not fail.

'Major Ezenwa', I say and salute my reflection, sharp, precise. The title sounds good in my mouth. I say it again, the Rolex glinting on my wrist as I drape my jacket over my arm. I smile, my even white teeth brilliant against my deep complexion. My smile fades as I recall the request I made to my CO, thinking of Adiana, the neuroscientist I met a year ago, the chemistry between us palpable—the woman I intend to marry no matter how many barriers stand in our path.

'Right now we need you serving Global Command. Maybe in a few years time. Anyway, it's too soon to be thinking of settling down. You are still young. Plenty of time. Survival first. Family later, eh?'