The global economy has been completely changed, every country is unified and we're governed by a unit named the Operitionists, an organization that contains 17 administrators, and is supremely governed by one woman - my mother - Clarisse Waldrow. They've created a world where all one has to do is utter the name of an item and it will instantaneously appear, neoteric technology has taken over every industry on earth.

    We live in a better world, life is not something that's expendable, everyone has the opportunity to make a difference, at least, that's what we tell the public. I know better, I see what's goes on in the system, the poverty that exists, the devastation that's been done to the planet, people've become cattle and are executed at my mother's command. Our perfect world is a lie! And I - Aria Waldrow - swear to demolish the system that exists in order to save the planet and the ignorant beings that inhabit it.

    Tomorrow is September 29th, the official 20th anniversary regarding the Operitionists rise in power and there will be a huge celebration. They'll all be there, even my mother and I must admit, I'll enjoy killing that hateful woman.

    Banners are flying, and the events are being broadcast in every home across the world on radios. There are millions of people in the square, creating a humans sea of rainbows, The Operitionists have been seated and my mother stands at the podium. "Thank you for being with us this afternoon to celebra-aargh" Clarisse was cut off by the sound of static.

    I got into position, walking to the podium as the voice came on every intercom. Soft but authoritative, oh-so-familiar voice said "Aria. . .Aria Waldrow. . ." endlessly looping. Each time it repeated a member of The Operitionists would die, only a trace of blood running down their noses as it happened.

    I made microscopic neurotic transmitters that were pre-set to shred each and every one of the administrators brains in sync with every repetition of my own name. I felt slight joy at the horror on all of their faces.

    I looked into my mothers eyes - a woman who was supposed to love me, be kind, create a better world - it became clear to all. The voice on the radio, it was mine and I was the one doing the killing and I wanted them to know. She looked at me with a look of appalled recognition, and it made me laugh.

    My mother was the last to die and as she hit the floor, the whole world was silent. I turned back to the crowed "Ahem" I began.