How would they know? He picked up his pace, hurrying to the antigravity monorail that would take him high over London to the Ministry of Intercity Relations at Whitehall. Staring out of the glass top of the monorail, Robert looked over the immaculate steel-and-glass city, glinting under the light of the Sun. A flash of light, searing heat, the ground thundering beneath him. He shook his head, as if to clear the images away. Soon. The click of leather shoes against marble echoed all around the Ministry hall as Robert calmly strode towards the great oak doors of the meeting room. He looked anxiously around the room, eyes darting towards the guards, menacing behind their reflective faceplates and body armour, the security cameras, winking high up on the ceiling. As he pushed the doors open, and looked around the room, he saw the sneers on the faces of the High London politicians, the badly-disguised contempt and mocking smirks etched into their faces. Robert only clutched the handle of his briefcase tighter, and set it down on the long table. Every day he took the journey here, sat in this room, debated his case, endured the laughter behind his back with a polite smile. A bell rung and the room quietened into a hushed silence. The Minister for Intercity Relations – Caldwell, Caldwin, whatever his name was. It didn’t matter now – took his seat at the head of the table. “Gentlemen, we are here today, once again, to discuss the issues of Mr. Melville, who represents Lower London.” Robert looked around the table and heard whispers, hushed laughter and nudged elbows, like children sharing in a classroom joke. He gritted his teeth and spoke. “As you all know, I have long been campaigning for the granting of a resource share and advanced technology instalments in the Undercity, sadly to no avail here at the Ministry. I would like to request this of you once again, one final time.” A man on his left spoke up mockingly. “Final time, eh? That’s smart thinking, its about time you gave up on your little ideals, Robert.” A quiet wave of snickering rolled through the politicians, and Robert shook his head. “I have come here, day after day, month after month, to beg and plead with you all. I have been nothing but reasonable, and yet you have been nothing but rude, contemptuous, scornful.” He inhaled sharply – a flash of light, searing heat, the ground thundering beneath him – and opened the briefcase, taking out a small black rectangle, featureless except for a small button placed at its centre. The politicians looked at each other quizzically, confused. There’s no better time than now. “Listen very carefully. Wired to this remote is a thermonuclear bomb in the Undercity. Give me, no, give the Undercity what it needs, or I swear I will press this button. If this goes off in the Undercity, you can be damned sure High London goes down with it.” Robert’s eyes swivelled manically around the room, meeting the shocked stares of the politicians. As his eyes fell on the Minister, an arrogant smile crept over the Minister’s face. “You don’t actually expect us to believe that, do you?” The Minister chuckled, looking incredulously at his fellows. “Someone call security. Mr. Melville here has clearly taken one too many lift rides. How dare you come in here and threaten us, Robert? After all we’ve done for you? This is the natural order; the Undercity will always be our trash heap. I’m calling your bluff, you wouldn’t ever–“ The Minister’s words faded into the background, and the ghost of a smile passed over Robert’s face as he felt the tension leave his body. He could hear guards burst into the room behind him – too late… far too late – as he gently pressed down on the button. A flash of light, searing heat, the ground thundering beneath him.