1Epilogue: Musgrove
The Informant tactfully walked out of her office, feeling relieved now that everything was cleared. The office was now in the same idle silence as it was when she first found it years ago. After locking the front door, she continued on her solo journey.
She clutched a single wooden crate tightly, her neutral expression hid the fear that churned within her. Nevertheless, she pushed her emotions down and strode forward with determination. Unlike most people who frequented the MARTA station for the vendors and stores within the common area, she chose a different path. Heading instead onto the tracks.
Resting on the tracks was a solitary store - The Carter Courier Service - which boasted of delivering anywhere in the former state of Georgia via rail. However, due to the absence of long-range communication, most people saw no value in it. Except for a select few such as those seeking a fresh start and shipping themselves out to a new location, traders looking to expand their business routes, and lastly, the Informant herself.
The Informant ignored the front desk attendant, who barely glanced at her before returning to their work. Instead, she made her way to a courier who was busy loading packages and cargo onto his hand car.
She approaches the boy, her steps light but purposeful, the sound of her boots echoing through the empty station. The air is filled with the scent of oil and rust. The boy's face is young, perhaps no older than fifteen, with a mop of unruly hair and a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He looks up at her with wide eyes, and she can see the flicker of curiosity and apprehension in them.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" The boy asked
She extends her hand, and he takes the ticket from her, examining it with a practiced eye before sliding it into the tin can. The can is rusty and dented, evidence of its long years of use. She hands him the wooden crate, and he hefts it onto his hand car with ease. He watches her, expecting her to walk away, but she stays watching him.
He ignores her, and continues loading his cart to completion. Once complete, she steps back, watching as he prepares to depart. He pushes hard on the rickety contraption. The hand car was held together with bolts and wire, and she can see the sweat glistening on the boy's forehead as he steadily pushes down on the cart, taking off. Informant just stands there and watches as he disappears down the horizon.
The courier's muscles strained as he pumped the cart southward. The rails are old and rusted, creaking under the weight of the cart as it rattles along. The landscape is a blur, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, as they pass through towns and villages, each one different from the last. She imagines the journey ahead, the courier passing the crate from hand to hand, each one a link in a chain until it reaches its final destination - the Musgrove Federation.
It was there under the banner of the Musgrove Federation, a military officer dressed in modern cotton garb opened the wooden crate to reveal the coveted Tesla Cannon. The military officer's smile grew wide as she rose from her seat to claim the powerful weapon. With a team of skilled soldiers and scientists, she made her way to the sandy shores of their capital city, Savannah.
She hands the weaponry off to one of the soldiers, who takes the weapon and slots in the liquid vial into its port. They all stand amazed watching the device power on, the soldier himself stunned at the sheer power coursing through his grip and into his arms.
With a single pull of the trigger, the machine unleashed its static fury in a brilliant beam that danced and sparkled against the ocean waves, stretching out into the distance. As the soldier removed the now hot vial and placed it carefully into a container, the officer reclaimed the weapon, a satisfied smile on her face.
A woman steps forward walking up to the officer and looking at the weapon, "Excellent work. This is truly a weapon that will change the tide and direction of our Federation."
"Yes, Madam Polk." The soldiers and scientists respond and, with a swipe of a hand, promptly stands in attention.
Picking up one of the vials, Madam Polk hands it to the head scientist. "Rickey, I expect to see this replicated by the end of this year." She calls out
Rickey nods, gripping onto the vial and motioning for his assistants to retrieve the weapon, "We will get it done."
Madam Polk smiles and stands in front of the team before her, "With these weapons and under the leadership of President Moon, we shall reclaim Georgia!"
LONG LIVE THE FEDERATION!
LONG LIVE THE FEDERATION!
LONG LIVE THE FEDERATION!