It was the television event of the year – if the months of teasers and trailers were to be believed. As the day approached – the hour! – anticipation mounted. The country was in a feverish state of excitement. The internet was abuzz with prattling from the fans. The chat rooms and blogs were crammed with theories. How would the cliff-hanger of the last episode be resolved? How could the protagonists possibly survive what would be (to anyone else) a life-ending catastrophe?
The power companies were prepared for a surge in use. Kettles up and down the nation would be filled and boiled in the lead up to the transmission. Canny supermarket managers had laid on special offers for a ‘night in with the telly’ – ready meals and champers had flown off the shelves. Pubs and clubs had secured special licence to show the broadcast on the largest screens they could fit in. Someone was making a fast buck from T-shirts bearing the hero’s face and the legend, “Where will you be watching?” It was the must-have fashion item. No celebrity or public figure would be seen without one, or a badge or a baseball cap…
The country was on tenterhooks. The people stared at their clocks, willing the digital displays to move faster.
The continuity announcer’s voice quivered as he heralded the long-awaited programme.
And everywhere, people were on the edge of their seats as the familiar theme music began to play. It had been a number one hit for most of the twelve months since the previous series ended.
And quietly, while no one was looking, government forces rounded up those who were not watching and shot them for the dissidents they were.