The north district avenue was awash in the perpetual glow of the canopy. Searchlights positioned on building roof tops delineated the busy avenues, enabling police craft to navigate through the haze that settled over Landgraevan at days end.
Isobel shooed the interactive hologram salespeople emerging from the neon lit storefronts away like bothersome gnats. Her full attention was on the cameras flashing red along the avenue. Up ahead, military drones flew close to the ground, stopping pedestrians at random to check their identification chips. She averted her eyes, abruptly turning onto one of the smaller, darker side streets, when, with a bright flash, a newscaster appeared on the canopy.
The newscaster's body was heavily inked, the intricate designs on her skin displayed from under a transparent cellophane dress. Her head was shaven from temple to cranial base, and a sub dermal kinetic tattoo had been inserted under the skin. The tattoo of a repeatedly blooming red rose took up the entire lower right side of her head, and her platinum hair, lavishly piled on top, curled flirtingly around the blossoming flower.
"Good evening, citizens of Landgraevan. This is Maram Stone with the latest on tonight's terrorist act. The nation of Ismay has taken responsibility for the Bucky breach, and, here to explain what this means is Secretary of Defense, Chauncey Fogg," she said, turning to the handsome woman sitting in the chair opposite her. "Secretary Fogg, please enlighten us. What happened tonight?" she asked with a sweep of her tattooed hand, also inked down to the long, dangerously pointy fingernails.
The tendons in Secretary Fogg's long neck tensed and her eyes glinted like cold, black marbles. Contemplating the question with studied control, she smiled at Stone with her usual slight sneer, and flicked imaginary lint from the impeccably cut, dove gray jacket she wore. Her straight ebony black hair was parted down the middle and arranged in a tight bun at the nape.
"Ismaynian terrorists have struck the homeland, Ms. Stone," Fogg replied, lip curled to one side.
"For those of our viewers who aren't geographically savvy, Secretary, where are the Ismaynian territories located."
"Ismay is a barbaric sovereign nation west of Landgraevan. It is reported that they have taken responsibility for the Bucky breach. We are still awaiting an official declaration."
"And once you receive confirmation of the Ismaynians complicity, Secretary, what will it mean to the good people of Landgraevan?"
"Why, it means war. Of course."
"But, Secretary Fogg, we've just wrapped up one war. You're proposing another?" Stone asked incredulously.
"This conflict was set in motion by Ismay's actions, not ours. Democracy requires participation, Maram. It doesn't come for free."
"We lost over ten thousand troops in our last conflict, Secretary. We've already paid a heavy price," she said.
"Which is why we must fight the vile Ismaynian enemy at all costs, Ms. Stone. To honor the brave soldiers who valiantly died for our freedom," Fogg said.
"Are you proposing a draft, Madame Secretary?"
"If it comes to it, then, yes. We are a nation of doers, Ms. Stone," she replied.
Maram Stone paused and shifted through her holonotes. "'Doers', not 'wrong doers', right, Secretary?" she said lightly, clearing her throat as Fogg deadpanned. "So, in closing, Secretary Fogg, what is your message this evening to the Ismaynian terrorists who may be responsible for this act?"
"We stand for freedom and democracy. Those who attempt to seize our liberty will be brought to justice. I speak on behalf of our President, Dareas Evander, when I say to the people of Ismay, quite simply: Prepare for retribution."
"Well, there you have it. Prepare for retribution. Thank you, Secretary Fogg, for joining us. Very informative. We will be keeping you posted, so stay tuned. Now, back to our usual programming. Maram Stone, signing off," she concluded and, with her customary wink, disappeared from the screen as the canopy turned back to blue.
Isobel gasped in disbelief: She was responsible for the Bucky breach, not the Ismaynians. She'd heard of Ismay; a small, peaceful country far west of Landgraevan. She couldn't imagine why they would start a war with anyone. They simply didn't have the resources.
She continued along the side streets home, veering from the checkpoints on the main avenues, and walked straight past Montgomery's apartment building without stopping. His small bedroom window, situated on the eleventh floor, was dark, the curtains drawn. Uncertainty and fear drenched Isobel as she continued for her home; she didn't know where else to look for him.
The canopy over the residential neighborhood had already turned into a celestial projection as it did every night on the eleventh hour, marking curfew, and she made a wish on the first hologram star she saw.