[Note: I just wrote this, I haven't edited it at all.]

“So I have the world in my hand.”

The man in the monitor bobbed his head, considering it. “That wouldn’t be inaccurate.” There was a pause. Communications delay or thought, painful either way. “I know what you’re thinking. Make your demands.”

Their head turned towards the camera enough to side-eye it. “But I wouldn’t be around to enjoy the results of my demands.”

The man frowned. Another person ran up and whispered into his ear, then he nodded. “Likely not. And if you made it, you’d still be dead in a month.” He rested into his seat and crossed his arms. “Die now or later.” A look of consternation poured over his face, before he belted out a laugh to the surprise of everyone else in the room. “That’s life, isn’t it? At least you know when you’ll go. You can make the most of it. A far better life lived than the rest of ours.”

They rolled their neck and shoulders, their jumpsuit getting a bit uncomfortable from sitting in the heat. “Well, let’s make the most of it then.”


They stood up, their clothes straining a bit from their not-average body shape as they walked up to the camera until everything above their knees filled the frame. “Universal basic income, a livable amount, with rent and food price control.” They lifted their head up, observing in the inset video on the monitor the way their sweat made their clothes cling to them.

A flurry of motion in the background of the video. World leaders, or assigned representatives, and their translators, for those that needed it. On call with their home country. Discussing with others. Are they really going to agree to this? Can they afford not to? “Easily done.”

“Free healthcare.” They cracked their neck. “All pharmaceutical companies must be non-profits or nationalized into public research institutions.” The now de facto ruler of the world reached overhead, grabbing a console to steady themselves.

More activity. The murmurs of the crowd started to become audible in the background of the video call. The man closed his eyes and adjusted his tie, undoubtedly listening to someone talk in his earpiece. “Of course.” He stared at the screen. Assigned to be the equivalent of CAPCOM for quite a precarious situation, he had expertise in understanding people. He knew where this was heading.

“Rapid decarbonization. End all use of fossil fuels. That’s what this was all for, right? Might as well make good on it.” They quirked their eyebrows and grinned.

Shouting could be heard, but audio wasn’t necessary to see the person who was upset. They were practically fighting with someone else. “Too true. I don’t think anyone will have a problem with that.” He smiled politely as more shouting was heard.

“Ah. Land back. Let’s make good on those promises, too. Should be quick to sign that into law. Plenty of attempts to choose from.” They rubbed their chin, their torso rotating a bit only being balanced by one hand now. They paused for a moment then pushed themself upright, grabbing the upper half of the safety suit off the wall, then slowly donning it, to them having all the time in the world.

The man smiled, slightly surprised. “Oh, back to the easy stuff.” He laughed at his own joke. “Done.” He looked to his side, talking off-mic to someone off-cam.

“Yeah. I mean while we’re at the easy stuff…” They pulled up the leggings of the suit and rotated the ring until it locked, making sure the latching sound was heard clearly on the call. “Why not a statue? A nice one. Not one of those 1950s ones. Make sure to capture all of my nuances.”

There was more off-mic conversations only briefly interrupted by a “Haha, gotta have a little fun. Not a problem.” There have been busy warehouses during the holiday season that didn’t see this much activity.

They checked the gauges on their environmental pack, giving one a completely unnecessary tap before turning slightly back to the camera. “Oh, one more thing. I almost forgot.”

Ah shit. Here it comes. “Of course.” He feigned a smile.

“Total worldwide nuclear disarmament.” They shrugged a little, helmet in hand, with the shit-eatingest little grin they could manage.

The audio was mostly noise. People were pointing at other people. Fists were being shaken, most at no one in particular. He pulled the ear piece out, his face scrunching at what was likely a lot of yelling. “I knew you would ask that.”

They sat down facing the camera, framed perfectly, helmet on their leg and arm on the helmet, like an astronaut taking a publicity photo. “And I knew you would deflect. But the clock is ticking.”

The room went silent as everyone scrambled to check the clock. There was anywhere from 31 minutes left for the most conservative estimate to a little over two hours for the most optimistic. This specific call started nearly an hour ago, when there was plenty of time. They had spent most of it going over what needed to be done, to reduce the risk of making things worse. The leaders were there to make sure no one was being kept in the dark. No one had planned for negotiations.

As the minutes ticked down, they continued sitting there. They knew it would take two to reach the containment wall, roughly 30 seconds to get through the door, three minutes get to where they needed, and another 30 seconds to do what they needed to do to avert the proverbial meteorite. That left another 14 minutes to put on their helmet and stand up. They started to adjust their posture but was interrupted by the complex shaking violently. After it passed, and some mental arithmetic, the discount astronaut sat up and drummed their fingers on their helmet. “I’ll give you seven minutes to decide.”

Lots of harsh whispering and assistants running around followed. The man on camera blinked as he smiled politely, occasionally glancing down to check at the clock. Six minutes after the ultimatum he folded his hands together and set them on the desk. He had also been chosen for his loyalty. Now, he wasn’t exactly subjected to a full background check with such short notice. It had been approximately five hours since the alert went up, so they had skipped the unimportant stuff, like credit checks and gambling problems. Which wouldn’t have made a difference, he wasn’t a gambling man. The most he ever did was a few pennies a hand when his friends wanted to play cards back in high school. After all, there wasn’t much else to use a penny for. But now, he made a gamble of a life time. “We agree to that condition.”

The room went dead silent, as people looked speechlessly at each other in wonder of who the fuck just said yes. A rumble built up, and they got to see the other side shake this time. What may be the most important phone call in human history, broadcast live to numerous institutions around the world and inevitably leaked to the world at large, just gave every person a promise they could force their governments to fulfill. Would it actually happen? Who knows. But they could see representatives start to uneasily shake hands. Some, likely from smaller countries, were more confident. Some even hugging. Well, right person, wrong place, might as well shoot for the moon.

They stood up and the crowd hushed again, focusing on the nearby screens to see what was happening. “It’s been a pleasure.” They nodded to the man on screen, then put on their helmet, speaking through its radio. “I’ll see you all in twelve minutes.”


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