First and foremost, I would like to make it abundantly and transparently clear that I am not happy with this proposal either, but it had to be made.

You may choose not to believe me, but this was the lesser of all evils, all things considered— whoever disagrees with this, I formally invite to propose an alternate solution. I assure you, whatever you offer, I can give you five reasons it would not work.

This is the only way.

From my vantage point in the high seats, I see grim resignation and unhappy acquiescence from the members of the Union. We are all waiting now— waiting for the inevitable—

“This is _preposterous_!”

As the window of shock shatters, bellowing voices cut through the echoing silence.

“How can you even _suggest_ that?”

“It’s completely inhuman!”

“How _dare_ you—“

As voices rise in crescendo to bellow their righteous discontent, the Council waits one, two, three seconds.

Quite suddenly, outraged proclamations become gasps and cries of pain as the Neutralization Protocol runs its course— one of my better ideas, if I do say so myself.

Dissenting units hold their hands over their ears, trying to appease the supersonic screeching blasted into their inner ear by their Pieces. Their writhing is short-lived, as today it is Councilman Jeffords who holds control over the panel, and he can be rather soft in these matters.

In a second, the dissenting representatives of the Union who cried out their opposition are left gasping, eyes unfocused as they try to regain their composure.

Most members of the Union remain still. Their discontent is clear, and their desire to protest evident, but they pick their fight correctly, and this is not one they will win.

“We understand your dissent,” Councilwoman Sterling says. Her voice is clear and empathetic, but her tone brooks no argument. She spreads her hands in front of her, as if she could present tangible evidence at will. “But it is either this or have the whole population starve in five years. It is the only solution.”

“Choosing a household member to execute is not a solution, Councilwoman Sterling,” a man’s voice from the middle of the room, amidst the myriad of leveled tables with pointless, representative flags their right corners, speaks. I cannot help but swallow a sigh.

Representative Stark stands as well as he can, given his severe scoliosis. Far from the choice the Council would have assigned for the country of Firalyne— what used to be Argentina and Chile, years ago— he holds tremendous sway over his people, although his participation in Union matters has become far more problematic as of late, so a change will be in order soon enough.

He walks the narrow aisle between cramped tables, pushed together precisely to discourage this behavior, and he has no choice but to help himself on chairs and shoulders until he makes it to the center of the room, right in front of the Council.

Councilman Jeffords hesitates on the panel.

“Each family is offered the possibility of choosing by themselves,” says Councilman James. “Should they forfeit the decision, it will be made based on the least productive member of the household. We simply cannot make it more accessible,” he finishes reasonable, folding his hands in front of him.

Representative Stark meets Councilman James’s gaze, unwavering.

“Are we to assume the Council is exempt from this declaration?” Stark asks, and once again I resist the urge to sigh. It is clear my turn has come.

“The Council offers it’s support in every matter,” I declare solemnly. “We are offered the same privacy as any other family, in regards to choice on this matter.”

“You will inspire a revolution with this.” Stark’s voice is sure, unwavering.

I must really replace him sooner rather than later.

“Rest assured, Representative, that the Council will behave according to the people’s best interest,” Councilwoman Sterling insists. “But in the spirit of transparency and goodwill, we allow the first Choosing— as it shall be herefore be known— to come from us.” A pause. “Councilwoman Drake.”

My breath stills.

I know what she is about to say before she says it, but she can’t—

“As spearhead of this solution, you will be the first to Choose.”

It is now that I realize I cannot.