Presbyter

            The votes were placed in a glass bowl in the center of the room. The last remaining elders in the campaign were surrounding it, waiting for their fate to be called out. One of them would be the leader, the teacher, the father or mother of the nation. One of them, would decide the fate of the world.

            Kellog was forty-seven. Five feet and eight inches, thick brown hair that was speckled near the ears with grey, he was not an imposing man at a glance. But, his eyes were failing him, and with that, he could see the truth in a man’s heart. He could see the lies they buried deep inside of themselves and, if he won, he would bring The Public to its knees with mandatory home screenings. Privacy would be taken away and The Courts would be obsolete under his undying gaze.

            Miller was fifty. She had long blonde hair worn down her back in a French braid, the white making it seem like sunlight. She looked like she was in her thirties, she aged well, and she was in perfect health. If chosen, the people of The Public would see a decrease in the amounts of deaths. Diseases would cure themselves at her touch, life expectancy would increase, death would take a vacation as long as she lived.

            Essex was seventy-three. He looked as frail as stripped bark. He looked withered and like a corpse. He barely ate anything, living with the idea that the old should wither away and the young should grow to become ripe and pleasant for the world’s betterment. If chosen, The Public would see the elderly wither. From ages forty-five and up, they would decay no matter what they tried to do to expand their life. The young would grow quickly and become strong, intelligent, and would make the world a better place. Maybe they would no longer need an elder to teach them the meaning of life.

            Last was Ai. Ai was fifty-four. She was a ripe old woman, round, swollen with pride and life just waiting to be released. She was energetic, limber, and spry. Even though she was round, she could move as fast as a dog chasing a bone. If chosen, The Public would find harvests always fruitful, everyone would participate in exercise routines every day, and power would be fueled by the environment, and not by manmade chemicals.

            The votes were in. The votes were counted. And then . . . The Public rebelled.