The Sweet Sound of Death

Dante woke up from his sleep as if someone had sent a sharp electric current through his body; his heart was pounding, his lungs felt as if he just ran a marathon, and sweat trickled down his back as the first thought to come to his mind was the terrible thing he would do tonight.
      	Slowly, he calmed himself down. Not yet, he thought. You’ve still got some time to prepare yourself.
      	He put his hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. Tiredness weighed him down. He felt sluggish, as if moving through a tub of molasses. How many times did he jolt up like that last night? Three, four, maybe five? And what about the two nights before? Will he even be able to sleep at all after tonight? He shook his head to drive these thoughts away.
      	He looked around his room. Everything was as it should be; the jacket he wore last night lay on the knob to his closet door; the windows were closed with the blinds down; and the alarm clock on his night stand read 9:24 AM.
      	And lying on the side of the night stand was…
      	Dante rose out of his bed.
      	He lived in a two-2 story townhouse about six6 miles away from the nation’s capital. As he ate breakfast, he could hear a great cacophony of music coming from outside. This was not an unusual occurrence – it was something he heard every day. Music, of course, was the number one choice of entertainment. Sure, there were still movies, video games, and television – but music came first before everything else.
      	Not Dante, though. He didn’t care much for music. Not after he learned the truth.
      	As he brushed his teeth, he took a look at himself in the bathroom mirror. His dark, smooth hair never rarely looked messy, so he didn’t comb much. His eyes were a light shade of blue. His beard wasn’t big (he had recently shaved), but it was enough to cover the small scar he had on the left side of his chin.
      	He dressed in navy blue pants, a gray shirt, and his jacket. Before leaving, he took one last look at the object by his night stand. The object that would change the course of history after tonight, the object that would fix the problem happening in the nation, the object that would end the madness…
      	Then he saw the earbuds by his alarm clock. He couldn’t forget those. He took them, put one in each ear, and closed the door to his room.
      	He then grabbed his cellphone, keys and wallet, and headed out the door into the world. He got in his car and drove towards Washington, D.C.
      	And throughout all this, his mind kept thinking back to the terrible thing he would do tonight. And each time it happened, he tried to stop thinking about it, but couldn’t.
      	For tonight he would take the life of another man.
      	But not just any man. This man was someone in very high power, the boss of all the other bosses, the face of the entire nation.
      	Tonight Dante would assassinate the President of the United States.



      	He stopped by a popular coffee shop in the city. He took a lone seat by the window of the shop. It wasn’t a place you would find peace and quiet in, for music was playing from every nook and cranny. The wall speakers were blasting all kinds of genres, from jazz to country to heavy metal. And everyone had their own personal tastes playing from government-issued earbuds, much like the pair Dante was wearing.  Had this been a month earlier, he would have suspected nothing of these earbuds.
      	That was until they caused a neighbor to try and kill him.
      	As he looked out the window, he saw a billboard ad floating around in the air. It showed a picture of the president, accompanied by an orchestral piece of music, saying:
      	“President Aaron’s Re-Election Speech Tonight at 8!!! Don’t Miss It!”
Dante closed his eyes. He, too, would be attending that event. But not to hear his speech.
“Is this seat taken?”
He opened his eyes.
Fiora was standing there, one hand on the seat across from him. Her long, brown hair was evenly draped upon her shoulders. He could see his reflection perfectly in her sunglasses. She never wore makeup, but she still looked amazing without it.
Dante gave a small smile. “If it were, you wouldn’t be asking.”
She sat down and put her purse on the table. After a brief moment of silence (between them, at least - music was still blasting from every corner of the coffee shop), she spoke. “Do you think you’re ready for tonight?”
Dante knew that she was talking about the assassination, and replied, “I have all the stuff back at my house.”
“I know that,” she said, with a hint of annoyance. “I meant if you were mentally ready.”
Dante looked down. “I’ve tried not to think about it too much, but it’s not helping. It’s only making things worse.”
“Well, you’ve got 9 hours to fix that.”
He didn’t say anything. He just kept thinking about the past few days, and how they had changed what he knew about his world.
About a week ago, Dante was recruited by a resistance group known as Anti-Sound, “for lack of a better name,” Fiora said. It consisted of about 150 members, all of them spread out across the United States. They had not done any large scale operations, so to the rest of the country, they might not have existed at all. They had one goal, though, and that was to stop all music.
As Fiora had explained to Dante, the government started issuing special earbuds for every citizen to wear in 2094, 10 years ago. These earbuds were connected to a large database that would play any genre of music that a person desired. The president claimed they did this to appeal to the increasing appreciation in music. That was a lie. The real reason, Fiora explained, was to control the public.
While these earbuds played music, they also emitted segments of static that distorted a person’s way of thinking. With enough exposure, they would be under the government’s control, doing their bidding without a second thought. The ones both Dante and Fiora were wearing right now had been altered so that they wouldn’t be controlled, because the government was using the brainwashing static to make people  commit murder.
The government’s reason, Fiora said, was to stop the earth’s overpopulation issue. She told Dante that the planet was becoming too populous. Many countries outside the U.S. were in poverty and famine because of the many mouths they had to feed. The government decided that the best solution was to kill the excess amount of lives. So, by use of the brainwashing, they could get rid of “needless” lives without protest from the people.
The goal of Anti-Sound, then, was to stop the brainwashing music. They figured that if they could take down the president (who was also using the music to get himself re-elected for a third term), then the problem would be solved. They had already planned the assassination long before Dante had joined, but he found out two days ago that they wanted him to carry out the job.
He looked back up at Fiora. “I just don’t see why I have to do it.”
“We already told you why. Our original shooter got into an accident and broke his arm. And you happen to have a very sharp aim.”
“That still doesn’t mean I have to shoot him down,” he vented.
Fiora took off her sunglasses and looked him in the eye. While her face and posture showed little emotion, her amber eyes revealed her understanding and empathy.
“Look, each one of us has had to kill someone in our time, whether in self-defense or because they’re a problem. You have to deal with that. Besides, like I said, you’re the only good option we have left.”
Dante said nothing.
Fiora put her sunglasses on and stood up. “You need to calm yourself. The fate of many lives rest on your actions tonight.”
She left.
Dante just kept sitting there. Even if it would save many lives, he still didn’t like it. It wasn’t just the thought of killing a man that got to him. It was because of who he was killing….


It was almost time for President Aaron’s speech. Crowds of people were gathered around the large podium stand and the regal red carpet leading to it from the street. There was music playing from all over the place, whether from the oversized speakers placed in the area, or from the multitude of earbuds in everyone’s ears.
Dante was perched on a balcony about 50 yards from the podium. He had a clear sight of where the president would be standing. In his hands he held what had been lying on his dresser earlier - a sniper rifle. The bullets were a special kind - they would explode on impact. If a shot to the head didn’t kill the president, the explosion would.
Fiora was talking to him through his earbuds. They were connected on a certain radio signal. They had Anti-Sound members around the area for backup in case something went wrong.
“The president should be arriving any moment now. All you have to do is wait until he gets to the podium, and then you strike.”
A large black car stopped at the red carpet.
Speak of the devil, Dante thought.
The president stepped out of the car, and the audience erupted in cheers. His suit was dark black, as was his pants and shoes. His smile was a  bright white, contrasting the rest of his appearance. He had the look of a celebrity, and everyone treated him as such.
But Dante knew that behind that perfect look, was a man hellbent on destroying the world.
The president was at the podium now, already speaking about how grateful he was to the nation for agreeing to let him serve a third term. He claimed that he would make the U.S. even better than it was now. And the crowd kept cheering even louder.
“Now’s the time, Dante,” Fiora said.
Dante put his eye against the scope of the rifle, and aimed towards the president’s head. One shot, and it would be over. He put his finger on the trigger and started pulling back on it.
From behind, he heard a click.
He immediately swung around and threw a punch, and he felt it connect with flesh and bone. The unknown attacker behind him was caught unaware, and fell to the ground, unconscious. A pistol clattered to the ground. Upon closer inspection, Dante realized that this man was an Elite Police member, or PoLites.
Fiora spoke up. “Dante, I heard a noise. What happened?”
“A PoLite tried to attack me. They know what we’re doing.”
“What? We kept this completely under cover! How could anyone have know?”
“I don’t know,” Dante replied, “But I doubt he’s the only one around. I’m gonna try to move somewhere else.”
He slung the rifle over his back and then took out a portable grappling hook, and aimed it for another building.
At that moment, a shot rang out.
Dante felt a sharp pain go through his left shoulder. He looked around wildly, but saw no sign of the shooter. He had to find some cover, quickly. He aimed at another building, one that had a tall post on a balcony that he could hide behind, and fired the hook. It caught on the railing of the balcony. He pushed the retraction trigger, and he was swiftly carried over the alleyway.
When he reached the building, he immediately hid himself. He looked at his left shoulder, and saw it was bleeding. It didn’t seem to be fatal, though.
He heard noises down in the alleyways below. He took out a portable mirror and, while still taking cover, angled it so he could see what was happening. What he saw only worsened his growing fears.
Into the earbuds he said, “Fiora, there’s a group of PoLites coming to my building. We have to bail out.”
“Alright, rendezvous to the metro station by the--”
She suddenly stopped speaking.
Dante started to worry. “Fiora?”
He heard noises that sounded similar to fighting.
“Fiora!”
Another voice spoke, but it wasn’t one he recognized.
“You’ve run out of luck, kid. We’re coming for you next.”
And then, nothing.
I’m not safe anywhere near here, Dante thought.
Down below in the building, the PoLites were slowly making their way up the building to his location. He put away the mirror and brought out the grappling hook again. He looked at another building next to the one he was on before, and aimed for a window. He fired. The hook crashed through the window, but grabbed onto a wall inside. He pushed the retraction button, and again was carried along.
He was mindful of the broken glass as he stepped inside. He seemed to be inside someone’s apartment. He would have tried to clean up the mess he made, but there was no time to waste. He walked over to the door, and noticed that it was unlocked on his side.
That’s odd, he thought to himself. Then he realized why.
He turned around, but wasn’t fast enough. The PoLite had kicked him right in the jaw. Dante almost lost consciousness, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He swung his arm around, but missed by an inch. The PoLite went in for another blow, but this time Dante was ready. He stepped to the side of the PoLite and delivered a kick that hit him square in the stomach, throwing him back against a couch in the room. Breathing heavily, he still managed to speak clearly through an earpiece he had.
“Suspect is in Alpine Apartments, room 204! Requesting immediate backup!”
Dante delivered another kick to shut him up.
He snapped the earpiece he was wearing to make sure they wouldn’t hear him through it. He took one last look at the man, to make sure he was knocked out. He noticed his hand was clenched around something. Carefully, he opened his fingers to see what it was.
It was a sound bomb, just about to detonate.
Dante wasn’t able to get very far. The explosion of sound waves that came from the bomb threw him against a wall. The PoLite’s body was ripped and torn like a piece of paper; his blood and organs spilled out all over the room. The wall opposite of Dante was blown apart as if a wrecking ball crashed through the room.
As the explosion died down, he looked around and noticed he was on the floor. His sniper rifle had fallen off, and was in front of him, resting on some rubble. He crawled towards it to pick it up, but noticed where it was aiming at.
It was at the president, who was by his car, presumably about to leave. He was facing the audience, his back facing Dante.
Dante didn’t waste any time. He put his eye to the scope, and aimed it towards the president’s head. He could hear the other PoLites making their way up the building. If he wanted to save the countless lives that might soon be lost, now was the time. He put his finger on the trigger and started to pull back.
And then the president turned around.
He may have done it just to wave goodbye to the rest of the audience, but he was looking right at Dante. The president’s piercing glare taunted him, saying, “What are you going to do?”
A voice inside Dante started to speak out. This is your chance. You can end all this senseless killing, you can find a more humane way to fix the overpopulation, you can be a hero, just take the shot!
Dante closed his eyes and grimaced.
…
…
…
…
… He did not pull the trigger.
The door burst open, and the PoLites spilled into the room.


He was now in a police car, being driven to the police station. The cop that was driving was very talkative at the moment.
“That was a really dumb move you made pal,” he said. “Trying to take the president’s life? Very dumb move. There’s been plenty before you who have tried this kind of stunt and failed. You ain’t the first, and you ain’t gonna be the last.”
Dante said nothing. He just looked out the window.
“I gotta ask, though, why didn’t you kill him? The PoLite captain said they found you in that room, ready to take the shot, yet he wasn’t dead. So why didn’t you kill him?”
“I don’t know,” Dante replied. “An angel must have persuaded me not to.”
That’s a lie, he thought to himself. You know damn well why you didn’t take the shot.
“How did you know what we were doing?”, Dante asked.
“Hell, we knew about your whole group for a long time! The government knows when a pair of earbuds have been destroyed or tampered with. But instead of busting you all immediately, we were told to wait and learn what you were about.”
Dante didn’t speak.
“Well, here we are at the station. Hope you’ve said your prayers, because you’re about to have a long interrogation with the president himself!”
Dante didn’t know how to feel about that.
The car stopped, the officer opened the door, and he stepped out. Standing in front of the doors to the station was President Aaron. And though anyone passing by may not have known, the reason Dante couldn’t pull the trigger was revealed to him up close and personal.
For the president was Dante’s own brother.