THE BRIEFING ROOM
I settle down in my usual seat in the front row for the weekly press briefing. As always, I’m the first person here. My coworkers are slowly shuffling in, mediocre cold coffee from the break room that doubles as an office in their clutches. Usually, I don’t mind them taking their time, but today I’m impatient, as there’s one story in particular that is sure to be up for grabs, and I want it. The harsh overhead light buzzes above me, its yellow light washing out even the color of the walls. My boss slowly ambles over to the podium in the front of the room. I sit at attention.
“Welcome, valued employees of the Frusa Forum. Today we will be going over the big events for this week and delegating stories.” Our boss begins in his agonizingly slow and monotone voice. A weak metal fan creaks in the corner of the room, not really creating an actual breeze.
“First up, the Green Star Project has its big launch this week. Run by Dr. Rayley Taiana, this is sure to be big news. Who wants it?” A fly buzzes around his head as he talks.
I shoot out of my seat before he’s even halfway through his sentence. My chair topples backward.
“I WOULD LIKE THIS STORY.” I say firmly and loudly. Perhaps a bit too firmly and loudly, as my boss glances up from his papers.
“Susan? No surprise there.” He looks back down. “The story is yours. You’ll have to go to the launch. I’ll get you the clearance for it.” He moves on, listing off the other stories. A cat up a tree, a water main leak, and a minor power outage. But I can’t hear the details, my mind is working overtime. Some may question my near-obsession with writing about Dr. Taiana (looking at you, Mildred—mind your own business, bitch). But how could I forget my middle school rival? Yes, this connection is personal. Before the fame and success, I knew Rayley Catalea Taiana. I remember sharing that table, never escaping the curse of the seating chart. Three torturous years that I will never forget. Perhaps middle school was a while ago, but everyone knows that the middle school years are *THE* defining years. People will lavish praise on the revered scientist, but I know the truth. I will expose Rayley Taiana, even if it takes my entire career to do it.
THE GREEN STAR LAUNCH
I need something juicy to happen, something that will make a good story. I sip my water impatiently, legs crossed and clipboard balancing in my lap. Blah blah blah, successful rocket launch, scientific advancement, I don’t care. I’ve been here all day, and all I’ve gotten is two successful launches. A minor issue with a loose fin, that’s all I have to work with and make a story out of. I’m the only one who didn’t clap when the rocket launched. They’re almost ready for the third launch, and I’m looking forward to this whole day being over, especially with the delay in the third mission.
What a waste. I think as Dr. Taiana finishes talking at the podium for all the reporters gathered to report on the launch like I am. More applause, more cheers, the rocket is positioned. The countdown begins. Thirty seconds. I drink more water. Twenty seconds. I click my pen. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. I check my watch. Seven. Six. Five. Someone behind me coughs. Four. Three. Two. Almost there. One. Zero. Liftoff. The rocket launches.
And then it explodes.
An earth-shattering boom vibrates through the air, a harsh flash like lightning lights up the sky, smoke fills the air, some people scream.
I just sit there, mouth open. I can’t believe it. The great Dr. Taiana actually made an error. A miscalculation, a misstep. And a real consequence actually happened. I start writing frantically, noting the time.
4:46pm, 12kH compressed air, Mission Penalty: 3rd launch, 300.000.000 tz fuel.
DR. TAIANA RESPONSIBLE.
People are running around, an alarm is blaring, lights are flashing, voices can be heard over the speaker system. But I smile to myself in spite of the chaos around me. This is going to be a good story. This is valuable. At last, I can begin my revenge.
