Johnathan Eastin stood on his balcony, sipping red wine, looking down at the hive below him. He was captivated by the distance. Miles below him there are millions of people and if he started looking out across Tier 24 he would be looking billions more. He was always amazed by that. Billions of little worker ants toiling for his sake. Eastin was the sole owner of one of the largest non-franchised industrial manufacturing and residential storage companies in the nation-state of Chicago.
“John, come back inside. You’ll catch cold.” His wife beckoned him back into her warm arms.
“In a minute dear, I’m enjoying the night air.” John smiled, grateful for his wife.
He would only dally a minute more, the sun had recently set and he had a big night ahead of him. Tonight was a grand banquet in his honor, celebrating seventy five years of successful leadership of one of the largest industrial manufacturing plants in the entire nation of Chicago. John was proud of that too. He took formal control of the company when he was only seventeen and this company had been his life ever since. Ninety two years old, still looking twenty five, and the sole owner of a successful company. Yeah, John was proud.
John walked back into his corner suite and closed the sliding glass door behind him. His wife, Loryan, was already half dressed for the party, her chestnut hair falling loosely down her back as she fixed subtle diamond studs to each ear. Her dress was white silk with splashes of light purple running vertically up the sides, strapless, elegant. Every single time John looked at her he was taken by her beauty.
“You look…” John paused for a long moment “Lovely.”
“It’s not you that I need to impress tonight, it’s those greedy investors after our fortune.” She replied clipping the last earring closed.
“You should worry less about the bank and more about the church. You know they hold real power.” John said as he put his wine glass down.
“A bunch of old doddering fools worshiping the false idea that there is a benevolent being controlling all of us.” Loryan cursed, hating the idea of religion and angered even more because her husband disagreed.
“You know it’s not about the God but the Father, honey.” John said, ever patient with his young wife’s rash outbursts, still smiling.
The two finished getting ready. John wore a traditional black suit with dark purple bow-tie, his long black hair tied back. Loyran got after him to cut it from time to time, saying was unbecoming of a man of his age. John told her time and time again that its his hair, he’ll do as he pleases, and at his age he’s allow to have long hair. The general conversation was light, the almost forty year age difference made them not always see eye to eye.
They finished getting ready and left their suite, arm in arm. John flagged down a rickshaw and the couple set off through the winding corridors of Tier 24. It took them over an hour to ride to the banquet hall, having to descend three Tiers to do it. Loryan, as always, was nervous about surface gas seeping up to their level. She never liked being on any Tier under twenty. John assured her that the gasses never make it higher than Tier Ten. She still worried.
The rickshaw pulled up to the front door of the hall and John over tipped the driver. He always did. This didn’t sit well with his wife, she thought he wasted his money, but it made John feel good. This driver had a wife and kids. It was hard work for crap pay and John had a soft spot for the little guy. A trait he learned from his mother.
John and Loyran walked into the hall arm in arm. No sooner than they walked through the door were they greeted by the cheers of hundreds of friends and coworkers. They split up, a political tactic used to cover more ground, and began mingling. John made his way left, towards the buffet with the intention to start this evening off with a snack.
That was when the lights went out. The room was covered in blackness for what felt like an eternity but was only a few second. Then the yellow emergency lights flooded into the room with a dull buzz. Panic hit the crowd. The panic of a room full of high Tier nobles that have never had to deal with a real emergency before. Then a voice, unnaturally amplified and echoing around the room, rang out.
“Johnathan Clinton Eastin the Second! Your seventy five years of tyranny are coming to an end tonight! Troops! Move forward!”
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