In the middle of a dazzling and futuristic metropolis, full of wonder and opportunity, there was a news studio. It was a simple affair. Broadcasting technology and menial jobs had all been compacted, improved, or altogether replaced by technology in recent centuries. It only had a handful of rooms, with the only one of any importance being the stage. A desk of mahogany and silver stood proud in the middle of the room, with small trinkets and mementos meant to make it seem personal, even if they failed.
A high-backed chair sat behind it, grand and imposing. A throne to all that was relevant and new. Plush leather, with strong support and deep cushions. the kind of chair you could simply sink into as if it was swallowing you whole. A warm spotlight fell onto it and the desk, illuminating everything in a soft glow.
More light came from the windows behind the desk. Floor-to-ceiling, curved along the edge of the building, the glass strong enough to act as a wall without any support or frames. It let in the image of a busy main street, chock full of all the latest hover cars and bikes. Stunning buildings pierced the sky, towering over the street without a care. The sky was a clear blue, free of any smog or smoke, with only the occasional fluffy white cloud.
Interspersed between them were smaller businesses, simpler things. A family bakery, instead of an industrial giant. They were bustling with people going about their days, chatting, meeting up, or simply enjoying life itself. A few intersections down an observer would be able to see a few trees around a bend, hinting at the beginnings of a park.
The city was a paragon of perfection. Not a single citizen went hungry. The crime rate was so low that it could be rounded to zero. Housing was affordable and comfortable. Luxuries were treated as commonplace, and everyone had the chance to do or be exactly what they wanted.
But the cameras weren't focused on the people, or the park, or the bakery, or anything else outside the window. Nor were they focused on the desk or the chair that sat behind it. All attention was on the woman who occupied the seat. Anything else in the room was just a prop.
She was, in a word, beautiful. Height is just slightly above average, accentuated by the latest heels. A suit that screamed sophistication. Platinum blonde hair cascaded down her head and stopped just past the shoulders. Icy blue eyes that held a knowing glean, as if she was in the middle of playing a trick on the audience. Smooth skin not marred by a single blemish. Her posture was so perfect that you might think she was a mannequin at first.
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Her name didn't matter. But the news she had did.
"Gooood morning Starlight City!"
Her voice was laced with cheer, fake, but still infectious. Convincing, tempting, and sweet, it did its damned best to lure in all who listened.
"Today's weather is clear and sunny, with a high of seventy-nine for the heat." She spoke as if this information was new and exciting, just as she had told the news for the past seventeen years. "Now, I'm sure you're all excited to get to the city news, but first we've got something else we need to air. Something on the galactic level."
Now this was new. For all that society had spread itself around, reaching for even other planets when its first wasn't enough, news tended to stay local unless it was truly important. Important, or tragic. A small, fake, but still convincing frown made its way onto the woman's face. It pulled at her skin in a way that made evident that this wasn't a normal expression. Starlight City rarely had to hear sad news.
"Unfortunately, this news is about a tragedy." She took a deep breath, letting the tension build in the air. "Last night, just over the city of New Egypt on Mars, an inter-continent transport ship was shot down by a fledging terrorist group, who have yet to be named. Two-hundred-and-sixteen were found dead, with eighteen injured. The weapon used was a yet-unseen version of phaser technology, that not only destroyed a large portion of the transport ship, but also had a profound effect on the passengers."
As the news broadcasted, a set of names and faces was pasted next to the woman. Those who had died in the attack, reduced to nothing but a statistic.
"The weapon infected all those onboard with an incredible amount of mental contamination. Two-thirds of the deaths were from passengers being rendered brain-dead, and six of the survivors have shown signs of crippling memory loss and reduced mental faculties."
A new name appears on the screens of millions of televisions, phones, and other devices. One that they all had heard, at least in passing.
"Among those killed in the attack was the retired veteran Davis Andromeda, a Chief Master Sergeant of the United Planets Space Force. Andromeda was galaxy-renowned for his exemplary record of service, totaling forty-two total years of service. During that time he earned many merits for honor and bravery, and a personal commendation from the Council of Leaders for his work in 2789, when he almost single-handedly sabotaged the efforts of the Neptune insurrection."
"Andromeda was also well known for his extreme skill with a ship, with many organizations and fans having titled him, the best pilot in the galaxy. It is truly a shame to see such a bright life be snuffed out. The galaxy as a whole thanks you for your service, Sergeant Andromeda."
The woman gives another soft smile, the first genuine one she had aimed at the camera in years.
"And may you rest in peace."