"Thank you for your patience everyone," a speaker calmly said into the podium. "We will begin the press conference in about 5 minutes. Please remain calm, and we ask you to maintain press decorum. Thank you." The speaker walked behind the podium and down the hallway.

The pressroom was a buzz. Cameras were flashing and television recorders were already in zoomed in on the hallway where the speaker had disappeared. Reporters were busy talking with executives and directors, telling them of the situation and giving comments about what the horrendous news they were about to receive. Terrible, terrible rumors had been circulated throughout the press and internet chat rooms. Panels had been formed and have not stopped bringing forth up-to-date information on what was happening.

The year was 2042. The grand White House Press Conference Hall was packed. The air was thick with anxiety. Doom was in the air and with good reason. US President Oscar Valdez paced about, trying to clear his head and remove the tension from his face. He was the first hispanic US President. The 5' 11" 45-year old had faced several dire situations, mud slingers, and scrutinizers during his rigorous campaign that had started since late 2040. The road had been long and paved with so many rumors of scandals and even an incident in which his integrity was questioned because of a teenager claiming to be his son. He and his team had somehow bested the situation and proved him to upright and moral. He had gained the trust and respect of the American people and had gained the honor of representing the nation.

However, his first six months in office had not given him much time to breathe. The world itself was crumbling and had slowly been doing so for the past 5 years. It had reached a boiling point, and scientists everywhere were reading the signs. They had no other choice. It was either that, or face extinction.

President Valdez was sweating. The makeup he wore was running. A woman came to his help. "No," he said, putting his hand up to keep her away.

"But Mr, President," said his young aide.

"No," he stated solidly. "If I'm going to talk to the country, I'm going to do it as myself."

"Mr. President, with all due respect, now is not a time for moralistic semantics. You need to look calm and in charge of the situation."

President Valdez stared at his aide. His wife, a trim and vibrant Latino-woman, standing at 5' 10", could no longer keep silent as she was along the wall. "How can try to look in charge when the world is falling apart?!" she almost shouted. She was shaking in her heels.

The President embraced his wife, trying to calm her. "Honey, it's alright."

She clinged to him. "No. No Oscar, it's not alright," she said, slightly weeping.

He gently kissed her, "I love you, Lisa."

"Oh, Oscar…" she said kissing him back.

"He is right though, Lisa. We have to be strong. We need to give the people hope, because there is a plan. If anything, I'm gonna make sure that you survive."

"Don't you dare try to throw yourself on the sword, mister; otherwise, I will shove it into you myself." she interjected.

"Et tú, Lisa?" He laughed, and she started to laugh right back. Her tears soon dried, though her face was wet. "Mi corazón."

"Mi corazón."

The President rubbed the hands of his wife. "We'll get out of this. We'll survive, and we'll make a new home for ourselves.

"Mr. President," said the female White House Press Secretary. "We're live in a minute. We need to make our way out if we're going to time our announcement with the rest of the world."

"Yes, of course." He looked to the make-up artist. "Hand me a wipe. I do intend to let the people see that we're not sugar coating things. It's best that we be honest with them and tell them what we know. The American people--no, the world--deserves to know the truth."

"Very well, Mr. President," said his aide.

President Valdez cleaned off his face, and the lines on his face, showing his age, could be seen clearly. He was then offered a dry towel to dry his face.

"Remember," said his wife, having regained some of her solidarity, "keep your shoulders back. You need to look as tall as possible. You're the President of the United States, you know."

"Yes, and I'm the last one who will ever be."

"Mr. President, we need to go now," said the Press Secretary.

President Oscar Valdez pinned his shoulders back and held his head erect. He relaxed his face and kept it plain, making sure to remove all fear from his eyes. "Just give them hope," he muttered to himself. He straightened his jacket and stood at the entrance to the hallway.

He heard from the microphone, "Thank you again for waiting. Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."

As the President stepped out, the world leaders around the world walked out towards their microphone stands in their respective countries. All the world was silenced, glued to their television sets or portable streaming devices. Breathes were bated, and no one would dare bat an eyelash for fear of missing this moment in history. President Valdez took to the mic, "Good evening: ladies and gentlemen of the press and my fellow Americans. Many of you have heard what has been on the air for the past two days, and I am here this evening to inform you that all the reports are true..."

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Hey! Something new from me! Yes, I'm alive. I have been doing things, but they've been a bit...private. I've made some gift works for some friends, and I'd like to put them up...if they ever give me the go ahead. However, this here is inspired from a friend as well. He wanted to see me do something like this, which you'll get to see more of in the future. Don't be fooled by the humans though! This is indeed an anthro story. It's sort of a fantasy/post-apocalpytic type of story. Enjoy. Love to hear how you like this.