Rebellion

The city had once gleamed with the promise of unity. The main boulevard Speaker Theron now walked was lined with broken, flickering streetlights, casting erratic shadows over crumbling buildings. Ash swirled in the wind, remnants of the fires that had erupted during the most recent uprising. A rebellion that shouldn’t have happened—not under the new system.

Speaker adjusted his coat, trying to block the sting of the cold, but it wasn’t the chill that unsettled him. It was the hollow sense of loss that pressed against his chest, like something fundamental had cracked beneath the weight of the revolution. This city, like so many others, had been a beacon of the dream he and others had fought for: the unification of the colonies. They had succeeded in forming a single, world-spanning government—an achievement unmatched in human history.

He’d thrown himself into the movement with zeal, believing that with one global direction, they could achieve anything. The collaboration of once-warring nations, the centralized systems of governance, the regulation of resources—it was all supposed to bring prosperity. And for a time, it had.

But now, looking at the ruins of this city, it was hard to ignore the signs of unrest. The riots had spread faster than anyone expected, and the cracks in the system were widening.

Speaker had worked alongside key figures to build this new world. One of them had been his old friend—the man he was about to confront. He had never suspected that this man, so quiet and capable, had been working against everything they stood for. Not until the day he stumbled across the coded message, hidden in a meme on one of the encrypted networks.

It had taken him weeks to unravel it, but when he had finally decoded the message, Speaker felt his heart stop. The report wasn’t just any tactical summary—it was from the operative, the very man he had trusted.

Now, gripping the hidden recording device in his pocket, Speaker felt his stomach tighten. He had to know why. Why would someone so involved, someone so skilled, tear apart the very foundation of their success?

The small building at the edge of the city loomed ahead, untouched by the destruction that surrounded it. Speaker hesitated outside the door. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before he knocked.

A familiar voice called from within. “Come in.”

Stepping inside, Speaker was immediately hit by the contrast between the chaos outside and the calm in this room. The operative sat at a simple desk, his back turned, as if none of the recent upheaval even registered.

“I need a word,” Speaker said, his voice tighter than he intended.

The operative’s body stiffened ever so slightly at the sound of Speaker’s voice. He turned around, surprise flickering across his face for just a moment before his usual calm demeanor returned. “Speaker,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Speaker didn’t sit. He closed the door behind him and walked toward the desk, pulling out his data pad. His grip tightened on the hidden recording device in his pocket. “I imagine you weren’t,” he replied coldly.

The operative tilted his head, studying Speaker. “You seem upset. Has something happened?”

Speaker’s blood boiled at the question, but he forced himself to keep his tone steady. He brought up the report on his data pad. “You tell me,” he said, holding it up for the operative to see.

The man’s eyes flicked to the pad, but the cool facade remained. “What am I looking at?”

Speaker took a breath, his heart pounding as he read aloud. “Authoritarian centralization has surpassed the ability to be limited by bipartisan politics or media infiltration. Rebel support had to be implemented to decentralize power.”

He dropped the pad onto the desk. “You sent this. It’s your report.”

The operative’s eyes widened slightly, the only sign of surprise he allowed himself to show. For a long moment, the room was silent. Then, to Speaker’s utter amazement, a slow smile spread across the man’s face.

“You figured it out,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

Speaker blinked, thrown by the casual response. “You’re impressed?” He couldn’t believe it. This man had sabotaged everything they’d worked for, and now he was sitting there, smiling? “You destabilized an entire government, and all you can say is that you’re impressed?”

The operative spread his hands, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. It’s not every day someone manages to track me down, let alone decrypt my communications. I didn’t think anyone here would figure it out.”

Speaker could feel the heat rising in his chest. “You—” His voice caught in his throat. “You’re not denying it?”

“Why would I deny it?” The operative stood, moving around to the front of the desk, his movements unhurried. “You’re smart, Speaker. You’ve seen the evidence. I don’t need to deny anything.”

Speaker stepped back, suddenly aware of the distance between them. The operative was close now, too close. His hand brushed the recording device in his pocket again, a nervous instinct. “I’m recording this,” he said, his voice tight. “There are people listening.”

“Of course you are,” the operative replied, his voice calm. “And that’s fine. Let them listen. There’s nothing I’m ashamed of.”

Speaker’s heart raced. He had expected anger, fear, maybe even an attempt to silence him. But this…this nonchalance was unsettling. “You’ve betrayed everything we worked for,” Speaker said, his voice shaking now. “Everything. And you think this is fine?”

“I think,” the operative said softly, “that you’re asking the wrong question.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Speaker shot back, anger flaring.

The operative smiled again, this time with something sharper in his gaze. “It means you’re smart enough to know that something’s off. You came here because you sensed it, even if you don’t understand it yet.” He took a step closer. “I know you feel it, Speaker. The cracks in the system. The way things aren’t holding together like they should.”

Speaker’s heart pounded in his chest. “I came here to stop you.

The operative chuckled. “Did you? Or did you come here because deep down, you know something’s broken, and you want to understand why?”

Speaker’s breath caught. “This is madness. I won’t join you in tearing down everything we’ve built.”

The operative’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “No, you’re not there yet. But you will be. With a mind like yours, you could be invaluable. You should join us, Speaker. You could be a real asset.”

Speaker shook his head, feeling the weight of the words pressing against him, threatening to unravel everything he believed. This man—this old friend—wasn’t trying to kill him. He was trying to recruit him.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

Speaker stood frozen, his mind spinning as the operative watched him with an unnerving calmness. The reality of what was happening weighed heavily in the air between them, but before Speaker could speak, the operative broke the silence.

“Listen,” he began, his voice low but confident, “I’ve already destroyed any credibility you and your government have. There’s no exposing me—it’s far too late for that. Let’s just have a conversation. As for that recording…” He waved his hand dismissively, “No one’s going to care. They’re too busy believing they’re fighting for their cause.”

Speaker’s hand instinctively tightened around the recorder in his pocket, but the chill of the operative’s words seeped in. “How can I trust you? I feel like I don’t even know who you are.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “Do I even know your real name?”

The operative smirked slightly, almost as if amused by the question. “Yes, you know me. And you know my name. I’ve never lied to you, Speaker. You just never thought to ask what my help was really intended for.”

A sickening realization washed over Speaker. His whole life, his vision for a unified government, and the unwavering support he thought this man had given him—all of it felt like a lie. “You never told me you were—” Speaker struggled to form the words, his voice cracking with disbelief.

“You never asked,” the operative cut in, his tone neither condescending nor cruel, just factual. “Speaker, I don’t hate you. In fact, I quite like you. I admire your idealism, I don’t even hate your government. Many of the ideals you believe in are admirable. In the right circumstances, they might even flourish.”

Speaker shook his head, trying to keep up with the operative’s unsettling composure. “Then why destroy it? Why destabilize everything we’ve worked for?”

The operative leaned against his desk, folding his arms. His voice softened, but there was an intensity to his gaze. “Because, Speaker, you’ve created a regional hegemony. And while that’s fine for now, while the founders—your founders—are still in power, there’s a problem with the way things are structured.”

“What problem?” Speaker shot back, feeling the pressure build in his chest. “We had built something good here. Something that could have lasted.”

The operative’s smile was faint, as though Speaker’s protest was something he’d heard many times before. “That’s exactly the problem. You see it as lasting, but history shows us that no such centralized government lasts without becoming something far worse than it started out as. The power you’ve amassed, it attracts those who would abuse it. Sooner or later, your well-intentioned government will start to stagnate, overregulate, and suppress the very genius and deviance that drive human progress. And from there?” He shrugged. “It leads to war, and corruption justifying more and more power. People like you believe they’re protecting something good, but in truth, you’re locking the doors of a cage that hasn’t been fully built yet.”

Speaker’s face twisted in frustration. “That’s not true. The entire purpose of this government was to avoid exactly that kind of abuse. We built safeguards, we’ve—”

“You’ve built illusions,” the operative interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “And I’m not saying that to insult you. I’m saying that because I’ve seen this happen before. Repeatedly. The moment you consolidate too much power into one place, no matter how noble the intentions, it always ends up the same.”

Speaker clenched his fists. “So what? Your answer is to tear everything apart? To sow chaos?”

The operative’s smile faded, replaced by something more serious. “Not chaos, Speaker. Balance. In order to preserve human progress, my society—those I work for—have long encouraged the limit of overly strong governments. Our goal isn’t to destroy civilization; it’s to prevent power from being hoarded, to limit the tyranny of consensus.”

“Tyranny of consensus?” Speaker echoed, incredulous. “You’re telling me that collective agreement, working together toward a shared goal, is tyranny?”

The operative shook his head. “It is when it becomes dogma. When the consensus becomes so overwhelming that it leaves no room for challenge, for innovation, for freedom. Your unified government has the potential to become exactly that. It’s already showing signs of it.”

Speaker felt a deep sense of disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” the operative said quietly. “You see, in the hope of preserving human progress, and limiting war on a planetary scale, we’ve been actively dismantling systems like yours. We encourage the end of centralized power. We don’t aim to rule, Speaker. We aim to keep the doors open. To make sure that no one entity—no government, no corporation, no ideology—gets strong enough to try to win it all.”

Speaker’s mind raced. “You’re advocating for anarchy.”

The operative shook his head again. “No, I’m advocating for reasonably sized governments. Governments that are just large enough to maintain stability but small enough that they can be challenged. So that competition remains, so that new ideas can rise without being smothered by bureaucracy or conformity.”

“This is madness,” Speaker muttered, shaking his head.

“Is it?” The operative leaned in, his voice soft but insistent. “Or is it the only way to ensure real freedom? To keep the gears of progress turning? Your system, as it stands, will inevitably rot from within. But if we break it apart, create smaller, more agile states—ones that can evolve independently—you’ll find the freedom you think you’re protecting.”

Speaker stared at him, still processing. The operative continued, eyes locked on his.

Speaker felt a wave of nausea wash over him. “And you think I would ever join you?”

“I think you should consider it,” the operative said softly. “You’re smart enough to know something’s wrong. You’re already questioning, even if you won’t admit it yet. You could be an asset. Together, we could shape the future.”

Speaker felt the weight of the words pressing down on him. The man he thought he knew was a stranger, offering a path that both intrigued and terrified him. Could it be true? Could everything he believed in be a mirage, slowly crumbling beneath the surface?.

Speaker glanced at him, uncertain. “You want me to join your cause?”

For a moment, silence hung between them. Speaker’s mind raced. The words were difficult to accept, but he couldn’t deny the truth of them. Everything he had built was unraveling. And deep down, he knew it couldn’t be stopped.

The operative stood up and pulled a small communicator from his pocket. “We’re leaving tomorrow. If you want to come, meet me at the spaceport.”

Speaker looked down at the communicator, the weight of his decision pressing in. “And what happens if I don’t come?”

The operative’s eyes glinted. “You stay, watch it all fall apart, and live with that choice.”

That night, Speaker stood on his balcony, looking over the once-vibrant city. The fires of rebellion had scorched its streets, and the people, once hopeful, were now divided. The ideals he had fought for had failed. Unity had become a battle for control, and the future he had believed in was now ash.

The communicator sat in his hand, the operative’s offer lingering in his mind.