I was almost jumping up and down as I got ready for the victory rally. I loyally donned my marroon scarf and marroon LMM rosette on my jacket. Marroon is the official colour of the Liberal Marxist Movement, and I just loved wearing it. It was on my clothes, on a bracelet round my wrist, on the posters of Marcus Radivorski which surrounded my bed. I loved that man's politics.
Mum sighed as she saw me leaving.
"So you're going to that rally then?" she asked.
"Yep," I chirped, "it's gonna be amazing! Just think, the new Prime Minister'sholding his rally right on our doorstep! How awesome is that?" Mum nodded. She didn't totally agree with everything the LMM stood for, but we never argued about it.
"Just make sure you're home for tea, yeah?" she said as she hugged me, "I'll have it on the table by six." I smile, then stepped out onto our landing.
The ironic thing about Darke Street is that the name actually suits the street. It's almost an alleyway, off the High Street, so not much light ever filters in from the main road. But it was my street, and I liked it.
Anyway, I'd started running down the stairs, the sound of my footsteps echoing round the stairwell, when I beumped into Mitchell from downstairs. He was the same age as me, sixteen, and he'd been my neighbour all my life. He was tall and skinny, with really icy-looking eyes and floppy, mousy hair.
"Aw'rite Mitchell?" I asked.
He looked me up and down, in my marroon garb, and snorted.
"What's so funny?" I asked him, my eyebrows raised.
"You're freaky!" He said.
"So's your face," I replied, and went to keep walking. But he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me.
"So's you mum," he grinned, "but she's into that sort of thing!" I elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and he doubled over. But he still laughed at me. I laughed too, partly because it had been a really good comeback.
"So," he said, straightening up, "you off to the rally?"
"Yes," I said. That question was getting a bit repetitive.
"Well, rather you than me, Laura," Mitchell smiled again, "See ya!"
"Bye..." I mumbled as he dashed past me. But I went on my way again, out the lobby door and out into the crisp November air. A crowd had already gathered on the corner of the High street. Members of the LMM, in spotless marroon blazers, were setting up a mini stage for their leader to stand on. People were chattering away to each other, greeting fellow supporters of the party. More joined us, until we spilled right out to the High Street. I had been on the edge of the group, but I felt myself getting pushed further into the middle by the newcomers. I had got there at half two. By three o'clock, there must have been about three thousand people there. The crowd exploded with noise as a van from the BBC turned up and cameramen got out the back with huge TV cameras. It was all hotting up.
Suddenly, one of the party members got up onto the stage. It was Lydia Harper, the new Chancellor. She coughed as the crowd cheered.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "I am announcing with great pride and joy that, as you all know, he Liberal Marxist Movement have won the general election of 2032." She paused as another cheer erupted from the front. I joined in, whooping and clapping.
"Thankyou," Lydia said, "and although it is a huge honour to talk to the public on behalf of our glorious party, I'm going to hand you over to the man of the moment... Mr Marcus Radivorski!"
Right on cue, Marcus stepped onto the stage. We went absolutely mental! We screamed, whistled, jumped up and down. I waved my hands and gazed up at the man who could save my country.
"Thankyou, thankyou, and thankyou!" Marcus shouted into his microphone. "Thankyou for giving me the oppurtunity to stand in front of all of you not only as a citizen, not only as a comrade, but as your Prime Minister!" The mass of people fell silent as the leader spoke. We were hanging on his every word.
"I am extremely proud to call you my comrades," Marcus began, "for that is what we all are. Do not think for one moment that, just because I am the one on the stage in the fancy suit, I am superior to any of you. Don't think that I have any more right to a good quality of life than any of you, or that my children have more of a right to a high-quality education than you do. Do NOT think that we are just going to let the bourgoisie get away with keeping us down, the way they have from the beginning of time.
As another well-known politician once said, "Change has Come". And that is true. For no longer shall those born into the houses of Lords and Ladies recieve acres of land and mansion houses just because of their parents. No longer shall those who sit on their backsides and call themselves workers be paid the same as the honest binmen and shop clerks standing in front of me."
Another cheer. It was just this sort of stuff that got us all going. The thought of liberty, of equality. Of justice. Marcus raised his arms in the air in triumph.
Then fell down. Dead. There was a loud crack of gunfire in the air, and a spot of blood emerged from Marcus' chest onto his shirt.