The Utten MissionBy Steph Wolmarans
Namiu did his best to walk upright, unaccustomed to the pull of a planet’s gravity, on his approach to the table in the center of the chamber. He was physically alone, but he knew millions would be watching virtually, some so close they would see the beads of sweat gathering on his face, threatening to drip onto the dark shades he wore for comfort. Those would be his greatest critics—the wealthy, the powerful, and most importantly, the ones in charge. They would decide the fate of his people. This, and the countless spectators, tuning in to get a glimpse of his strange physical appearance, to find amusement in the form of a drinking game, or to channel their anger toward someone besides each other, was enough to make his heart race.
The chamber around
