Sitting at a desk with pen in hand. "It's us against the world." "Watch out, America."

The circle of faces tightens. The air seems heavy. No one breathes. This could be the start of a new world era. One wrong word and it could be the end of this one, and it is impossible to say which outcome is worse.

Moonlight drips in through the window. "Just start it," someone whispers. A hand reaches in and drops the precious sheets of paper on the desk. Only two. One chance to mess up, and that's only if the writing is small enough to fit to one page. Another drops a pen and it rolls across the wood with the deafening rumble of fear. To be here, to do this, could ruin everything that's ever been fought for. It's all come down to this choice.