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by • 2021-07-21 • Flash FictionComments (0)

Party Line

The Chief of Persona was aghast as he watched one of his news anchors break from script and began babbling the truth while on-air. Yells went up from everyone in the Control Room as the Anchor went dead-eyed and, in a soulless monotone, began speaking the actual god-forsaken truth and announcing that the Administration had known about it all along. The Chief ordered the feed cut and the crew switched it to La Sal’s newest pop song, “Everyone’s a Refugee!”

It was already too late, though. The hyper-critics were waiting to pounce, recording everything they could as the Anchor blathered about facts and statistics, metric tons, number of households effected, the name of the party boss that had cleared the decision. It’d only be a matter of minutes before they posted it on every social feed, micro-blog, news aggregation and discussion site. It would take the censors minutes to clean it up. The truth, even just a little bit, would get out. Again.

Off the air, it only took a minute to discover the damned fool of an Anchor had been hacked, probably slipped a neural worm while out late partying. An excessive lifestyle was one of the few benefits of being part of the administration’s mouthpiece. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault, but someone was going to have to take the blame for this. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the Chief.

See the author’s published work here.

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