“Buenos dias Mexico City!” I repeated the familiar news greeting. My father owned the hologram telecast, shown in each household, along with a hologram publicly displayed in the morning sky. Getting ready for school, I listened to the headlines in English. Though we were in Mexico City, the reports were in English, then Spanish, to promote English to the population of over 34,000,000 people.


“Today is December 5th, 2032. I’m your host, Carlos Mendez, with your day’s headlines. Wealthy Mr. Martinez recently purchased the city’s hovercraft transportation, raising all fares by 50 pesos.” At the mention of my father’s name, I glanced up. It’s hard to keep track of all my father’s investments. My late grandfather told me our family hadn’t always lived in this estate, sharing his struggles rising from poverty as a child. “This sparked anger in the eyes of the growing LCC, or Laboring Class Community, as the price increase makes affording transportation difficult. In other related news, Mr. Martinez purchased more land for landfills. Small scale, peaceful protests have erupted, to vent feelings of neglect.” The last bit didn’t matter. The LCC was always complaining. Why couldn’t they support themselves like everyone else?


While slipping into my private school uniform, I sent a pick-up message to our robotic hovercraft driver. Within seconds of pulling my long, chestnut hair into a ponytail, the hovercraft was outside my bedroom window.

“Hola Maria,” the robot chirped. After pressing the preprogrammed location of my school, we zipped past the neighborhood. Briefly, I viewed the city’s slums, but the craft’s blinds automatically rose. Better that way. I didn’t want to see the poor areas. I’m sure no one there wanted to see me.



Everything at school went as usual. Classmates arrived in their hovercrafts. Walking in for my last class, I sat next to Adriana Vega. We aren’t close friends, but our parents are very important in the city, so we must get along.



A familiar news alert interrupted our integrated future tech class.

“I’m Carlos Mendez, and this is an emergency newscast. The LCC has released a statement saying they will engage in a mass protest immediately. Protests have grown to hundreds of thousands of people, becoming violent in some areas. Marching to the Martinez and Vega estates, they’re chanting requests and threats.” I could feel every eye in the classroom on Adriana and me. My face heated up. At that moment, a vibration came from my messenger and my hovercraft was outside the window. The teacher dismissed the class for our safety, and we climbed into the craft. Everyone moaned over the inevitable virtual school awaiting us, to make up for the disruption. Silently, the robot flew the hovercraft home at lightning speed.

“Why can’t those poor people leave us alone?” Adriana whined. Rolling my eyes, I caught a glimpse of the protesters assembling outside our families’ estates.


Upon arriving home, our mothers embraced us. They mumbled furiously in Spanish about how the needs of the poor didn’t matter. I was surprised. Sure, the LCC caused us some inconvenience, but we should care to some extent...right? The news alert rang for the third time.

“I’m getting real sick of the news,” Adriana complained.


Excusing myself to the bathroom, I watched the news privately. Rather than Carlos Mendez’s familiar face, I saw a girl who looked about my age. Dangerously skinny, as if she hadn’t eaten in a long time, she wore torn clothes, had matted hair, and a fatigued look on her face. It was strange to see her on my father’s news telecast, considering the situation. Surely my father would fire whoever let her on the air.

“Hola people of Mexico City, I am Nina Torres. Every morning, fear is my family’s alarm clock; hunger and uncertainty fill our stomachs. As construction workers, my parents work hard for every peso they earn. Still, our big family lives in slums, without enough money for food, clothes, clean water, or heat. Our little living area easily floods and is damaged by buildings during Mexico’s many earthquakes. Water-borne diseases pass through our large, yet fragile communities, lacking sanitation and proper sewage disposal. We live next to overflowing landfills! Mexico City is a small place, with many people. The majority of us belong to the lower class, even if the glamour that surrounds the rich portrays otherwise. Our voices need to be heard, and we are tired of being ignored by the rich and the government. Put yourself in our shoes. I...” suddenly the projection disappeared. Someone must’ve taken it off the air.


As I gathered my thoughts, tears welled in my eyes. They were tears of sudden emotion: shock. Remembering my grandfather’s stories and his family’s struggle, I felt like I was there with them. In a quick moment I felt their pain; their fears became mine. Nina was strong; standing up for not only her situation, but for the people of the city. Another newscast interrupted my thoughts. I could just picture Adriana groaning in the other room. This time, it was Mexico’s president. The setting behind him looked like my house’s conference room.

“Protests in our capital are growing as we speak. Protesters are advised to leave the streets immediately, or we will send in armed troops.” Armed troops? The government would really resort to violence? I had read about events like this happening before, but never thought it would happen while I was alive; in my city. A vivid image of Nina and her family being shot flashed through my mind’s eye. Startled, I ran into my bedroom.



“Where’s father? Something needs to be done!” I exclaimed.

“He’s discussing troop arrangements with the president,” my mother explained.

“No!” I shouted. My mother shot me a questioning look. I didn’t care; this was too important. Rushing down the stairs, I saw the president, my father, and Mr. Vega sitting around the table. They looked startled to see me. Unprepared, I stood in the doorway blankly.

“Go Maria, can’t you see we’re busy?” my father scolded. Clearing my throat, I stepped into the room. The unplanned words began to spew from my heart rather than my brain.

“Have you noticed the conditions many people of the city have to endure? Just because we’re living comfortably and don’t see worse, doesn’t mean it’s not there. My grandfather was once suffering like them. Fortunately, he was given a chance, an opportunity, a helping hand. We need to provide help for our people, not hurt! Please don’t send in the troops. Calming the crowd takes strategy and a plan to help. The city should be close together. I know I’m just a teenager, but please hear me out.” The look on my father’s hard face was frightening. I started to back out of the room, when the president spoke.

“The girl is right. I’ve never seen the situation that way. We should come up with a plan to use the government’s money to help, rather than wasting it on troops against our own people,” he smiled at my father, making his face glow, while Mr. Vega nodded in approval. The three men talked late into the night.


Later, the president announced a plan to provide more jobs for the laboring class. My father even pledged not to increase transportation fares, and to cancel landfill expansion. He and Mr. Vega offered to donate money to new housing. Before the end of the announcement, I stepped in.

“Hello, I’m Maria Martinez,” I began. “I’d like to say, I really care for the city. I didn’t pay much attention before, but Nina Torres, if you’re watching this, you need to know that your speech was very inspiring. Thank you for changing not only my view, but also the view of the president. Thank you for your courage.” At that moment, the camera changed view from me, to Nina Torres somewhere outside. She grinned from ear to ear, with her family and other members of the community.

“Thank you for taking steps to improve,” she thanked the president. “We understand it may take time for this plan to work, but we are grateful for your effort and attention. Maria, thank you for speaking up, in our defense.” As I smiled and listened, the view changed to Carlos Mendez. He, being one of the other members of the rich community, must have actually cared for the lower class, otherwise he wouldn’t have let her speak. This sense of community made me feel warm inside.

“With that, we’d like to end our newscast. We would like to keep Mexico City a proud place, that ensures the community will support one another. Buenas noches Mexico City.”

“Buenas noches Mexico City,” I mouthed silently to myself.