Dominion

Daniel Ruppert left the steel-reinforced black dome of the GlobeNet, Los Angeles studio, and drove into the war-torn concrete hell of south L.A. The roads deteriorated beneath him as he travelled deeper into the Economic Reclamation Zone, where the Western Resources and Energy Committee now permitted up to four hours of electricity a day and as much as two gallons of water per household, a bid to stave off riots as the National Guard effected its latest withdrawal. Another intervention would likely follow within the month. Ruppert would report on it ominously, framed by footage captured by the triangular GlobeNet spycams gliding like tight swarms of black vultures over newsworthy sites.

On this evening’s newscast, Ruppert had described the new measures as a “bold initiative to increase prosperity and opportunity for the citizens of Southern Los Angeles.” Privately, he’d wondered whether “increase” was the proper word since it implied that those things existed in the first place. Like the overall positive tone of the story, the network had chosen the word, and a mere reporter had no place in suggesting revisions. Ruppert was just a face-man who could look trustworthy and reassuring regardless of what he said or how much he lied.

His new 2035 Ford Bluehawk stuck out like a golden thumb as it raced low and sleek along the shattered 405, picking up speed each time he darted under a wrecked overpass bridge. Scavengers sometimes lurked in the shadows beneath bridges, waiting to snare a promising target using a homemade explosive tucked into a roadway fissure or maybe an old-fashioned burst of machine gun fire. At least, this was what Ruppert reported for the local news. The boundary between the actual world and the one manufactured for the audience was slippery and porous, even for him, especially since he didn’t know when he told the truth and when he didn’t. It was all just script.

Garbage and earthquake rubble buried most of the ramps on this stretch of interstate. Up the ramps, behind the rusty barbs and chain link running alongside the highway, most of the old concrete buildings stood lightless except for the occasional red glare of an open fire in a window hole. The four hours of electricity was probably an exaggeration.