The Inkwell Prompt #40 || Mr. Terrorist

Image by NeONBRAND

It was a feast! And everyone was having the time of their lives.

We were talking at the top of our voices, laughing happily as we stuffed our bellies. At the front of the hall, there was a long table with a gold-colored tablecloth draped over it. And the table was laden with different kinds of meals. All kinds of dishes could be seen there and they were tantalizingly displayed for all and sundry.

It was an all-you-can-eat buffet, and I was in a file like a bunch of others, a plate in my hand ready to go scoop up my share of paradise.

When it was my turn, I scooped healthy portions into my plate; I didn’t take pity on the chicken laps either. By the time I was satisfied, I took my heavy plate and walked to the tap where I fetched sparkling clean water into a tumbler.

Dozens of others did the same and soon, we were all on our seats, waiting till the main event began. By the time the last person took his food and poured out his water, then subsequently took his seat, we were ready to swing in.

The chairman of the occasion got up then and took the microphone, holding it in one hand while he held a half-eaten chicken lap in the other, “this is another month for this glorious club. Another month to live life as it should be, without the hindrances of the dumb government, and the even dumber realities. We are humans, and we will do as humans are meant to do.”

We all cheered him, giving him a round of applause as his deep voice boomed out of the speakers.

“Now, raise your glass.” He went on, we all did as asked raising our tumblers of water for the toast, “this is to us not giving a damn.”

“To not giving a damn.” We all echoed as we clinked the glasses in cheers.

It was then we settled down to eat.

In seconds, the sound of conversation was subdued by the striking of cutlery against ceramic. We all were high-standing members of the society, millionaires, and billionaires in different sectors of the economy, but we were eating as if we lacked table manners. Talking with our mouths full, drinking water, and belching out loud.

It was glorious.

And suddenly, the doors to the hall flew open with a loud bang, one of them flying off its hinges and landing flat on the floor.

All noise ceased at once, and like that, we all knew the night was over. And another kind of darkness lay in store for us.

Heavily armed men, with S.W.A.T boldly printed over their chests, trooped into the hall, using riot shields to protect themselves as they surrounded us. Our guards opened fire on the officers, but they were overpowered at once.

Once the exchange of gunfire was over, their leader stepped forward with a gramophone which she held up, “hello everyone. Sorry to crash this party of billionaires. It is my honor to announce that you all are under arrest for crimes against the government.”

“What?” We all gasped, even though we were not surprised.

She turned then to her men, “arrest these terrorists.”

And as the officers approached me with guns and cuffs, I couldn’t help but wish I had not joined this club. In this year 2050, the law was no longer a respecter of persons, and money no longer controlled power as it used to.

All life on earth, except for human life, was on the brink of extinction. And by all life, I meant, animals, plants, bacteria, even the tiniest molecule of living thing. Because of this, eating farm-grown food was now illegal. All farm produce was set aside for future uses, to try to preserve their lives. It was the same for animals and bacteria. No more rice, beans, yam or tomatoes, no meat, no fish at all. Everything was now synthetic and came in a can, manufactured through chemical processes.

And to make matters worse, the planet was running out of water. Water was now the most expensive commodity in the world. Those with wells were the wealthiest. The richest man in the world owned fifteen wells, which were used to supply clean water to at least one-third of the world’s population.

On the other hand, alcohol lost its value. What used to be the most expensive wine could now be bought by even the poorest of the poor. And it was only filthy rich like us that could afford to make toast with water as we did.

Breaking the laws of the government concerning food was a serious offense because it meant you were deliberately trying to destroy the world. So, it was taken as an act of terrorism. And culprits were treated as such.

We had spent billions of dollars to make this event possible. Smuggling live chicken, rice, beans, water, and a host of other banned goods. We had the money for Christ’s sake, why do we have to eat only canned food when we can afford the real thing?

Where is the justice in that?

And so, under protests, we were led out of the hall and into vans, forensic experts took over the hall, trying to salvage the little forms of life they could.

As the leader of the S.W.A.T team made to lock the van, I stopped her, “hold on.”

She looked at me, her face expressionless, “what is it?”
“This doesn’t have to end like this. If you let us go, I’ll make it worth your while. You can have all the water you will ever need. I have three functioning wells, so I can give you as much as you want. You can even sell it if you wish.”

She let out a deep breath, “your wells won’t be helping you. You all will only be drinking five tablespoons of water each day for the rest of your life. Along with a cam of factory rice every two days. In time, you’ll know why rules like that were put in place, but by then it’ll be too late.”

I had no reply for her, I could only stare blankly. Still unable to comprehend the gravity of my situation.

“Goodbye, Mr. Terrorist.”

And she slammed the door of the van, locking us in.

The End.
This story was inspired by the week's prompt Feast, feel free to try it out.
Thank you for reading.

Feel free to contact me via my Discord handle below:

3 columns
2 columns
1 column