The flashing of the red cherry lights from police cars outside illuminated the white, pristine corridors and tight cramped office spaces. The 50 foot boxy structure, with odd metal tube and ventilation fan sticking out of it loomed over the small office building.
In side this building an old man, stooping over a desk staring intently at a monitor. The gentle radiance from it illuminated his face. Wrinkles and grey hair betrayed his true age. Too his friends he was a ‘bloke’, good friend and over all ‘good guy’. Though the decision he faced was monstrous and that no matter what he chose it would make a monster of him.
With a gentle creek from the wooden chair, he looked up out to the left to the source of all his problems, the burden of his pains and what will make him a monster or a murderer. Possibly both.
To the outside observer it would look like a giant concrete brick, with aluminium pipes lining the contours. It sat in darkness, seeming to enjoy it. There was no flashing of the police blinkers, no soft florescent lighting, only darkness.
Looking back down at the screen he was presented with two options.
Reactor ventilation override? (Y/N)
For a few more moments he thought what to do. To override would flood the local area with intense radiation, killing people in their sleep. Sure, it was bad, it would kill maybe fifty thousand in the local communities. They would die in their sleep, a few individuals might wake up vomiting but it would mostly be silent. It doesn't discriminate, men, women and children would die and he would be there murderer. The other option was to let the reactor simply explode, spewing radioactive dust into the atmosphere. Causing misconceptions, air born disease and destroy the lungs of anyone in the southern Hemisphere.
A warning has been sent out and anyone in a 1000 Km radius would run for the high hills, but it didn't matter. Most couldn't afford to leave, hell, most couldn't pay for food, let alone live. They would die whatever no matter what.
Both were unacceptable options. The live of the few or the lives of the many. Who was he to decide who died and who lived could he decide? Either way, he would know that he was the executioner.
Finally coming to a decision and tapped on the key board.
At that moment, the monitor flashed with light.
So did the sky.
