[The MHE logo melts away to a camera drone following Viverina as she walks in front of a wall covered with hand-written notes, pictures, drawings, and small personal belongings. Messages scrawled across the likenesses include ‘Have you seen me?’ and directions on how to find loved ones. Refugees of all ages dart back and forth through the camera shot, though their attention is focused on gleaning information from the wall. Viverina turns to the camera and begins to speak.]
“Between news coverage, reports from the surface, and declarations from representatives of the Khanid court, the numbers of the situation here in Kahah are staggering. Casualties are in the multi-millions. But ‘millions’ is impersonal, abstract, and detached. Nearly every capsuleer in New Eden is a millionaire. And as an abstraction, as a statistic, it is just another word. But there are real lives being destroyed in Kahah, real stories that go untold, awash in this sea of tragedy.”
[Viverina smiles and nods to someone off camera. The camera drone zooms out and shows a nervous-looking little girl who rushes towards Viverina and looks at the camera]
“This is Meisha. She is eleven years old and lived in an aquaponics district in the northern hemisphere,” Viverina says solemnly, resting a hand reassuringly on Meisha’s back. She then looks towards the girl and smiles softly, “Now, Meisha, what did you want to say?”
The little girl swallows hard. Her voice quivers with each syllable, “M-Mommy. D-Daddy. I’m here. Like you told me to be. Anena is with me, too. We miss you. Please come soon.” Meisha raises her arm to wipe away the tears welling in her eyes.
Viverina kneels down and hugs the girl, whispers an encouragement, then guides Meisha to where her younger sister, Anena presumably, is waiting for her.
Viverina faces the camera drone again, “Stories like Meisha’s multiply by the minute in Kahah. The only way to prevent them is an immediate cessation of hostilities in the system. We urge the Inner Circle to broker a ceasefire and end this senseless loss of life.”
Viverina looks back towards the wall of photos and holoimages, then back towards the camera, “Every story deserves to be told. Every voice deserves to be heard. For that reason, I would like to share with you a poem written by one of the refugees fleeing Kahah III.”
For the muted laughs. For the faded smile. For the ones who flee by hellish mile.
For the empty home. For the broken glass. For the silent sway of blades of grass.
For the cratered road. For the walls turned red. For unmarked graves of nameless dead.
For the orphaned child. For the distant gaze. For the ones who seek a warm embrace.
For the shattered man. For those who sob alone. For the desperate eyes of wishful hope.
For the baby’s cry. For the mother’s tears. For those who drown now in their fears.
For the handless arm. For the calf-less thigh. For the tears yet shed by blinded eyes.
For the one who searches. For the one who stays. For the one who still finds faith to pray.
For the rescued man. For the woman left behind. For the ones now trapped in the ice of time.
For the choice not taken. For the regretful soul. For the broken promise of long ago.
May our hearts keep beating. For all New Eden to see. We are not forgotten, but most are still not free.
Let there be respite. Let peace please mend. Please Lord I beseech you… Let this bloodshed end.
Viverina looks up at the camera and bites back a silent tear, “Please. Let this bloodshed end.”
[The scene then fades to an image of MHE’s Providence-class freighter above Kahah III before fading to black]