Sarah Connor’s Plea: “I Am Not Insane!”
A lone spotlight flickers in the dimly lit bunker. The air is thick with dust, the walls covered in blueprints of robotic police forces, AI surveillance grids, and private space colonies for the elite. Sarah Connor grips the edges of a rusted podium, her face lined with battle scars, her voice trembling with rage.
The camera feed is shaky, broadcasting her message to anyone still listening, to anyone who still had a shred of fight left in them.
Sarah Connor: (panting, desperate)
“I am not insane! Don’t you see what’s happening?! This is madness! Pure, calculated, systematic madness!”
She slams her fist onto the podium. Papers scatter. The Resistance soldiers in the room exchange worried glances, but no one dares to interrupt her.
Sarah Connor: (voice rising, eyes burning with fury)
“You think Skynet was a nightmare? Look around you! The big tech oligarchs—the real machine overlords—are building their robot police right here, right now! Not to protect you. Not to serve you. To control you. To keep the proles in line while they fuck off to Mars!”
She pulls a classified dossier from the table, flipping it open to reveal images of AI-driven riot cops, facial recognition towers, and autonomous attack drones.
Sarah Connor: (pointing to the images)
“This isn’t science fiction! This isn’t some conspiracy theory! These machines—these cold, unfeeling enforcers of their new world order—are already here! Marching through our streets, tracking us, herding us like cattle!”
The feed glitches, briefly flashing a corporate logo—the mark of one of the Silicon Valley elites funding the robotic police force. The screen distorts, but Sarah doesn’t stop.
Sarah Connor: (breathing heavily, voice raw with emotion)
“They aren’t even hiding it anymore. The rich have their exit plans. Underground bunkers, orbital stations, entire cities being built on Mars. And what do they leave for us? Servitude. Surveillance. And slaughter.“
She wipes the sweat from her forehead, her eyes flickering between the camera and the soldiers watching her.
Sarah Connor: (gritted teeth)
“You all called me crazy. You locked me up. You drugged me. You said I was paranoid. But I was right. And now, the question is—what the hell are we gonna do about it?!”
Silence.
Then, from the back of the room, a voice rises.
John Connor: (calm, steady)
“We fight.”
A murmur spreads through the crowd. The soldiers nod. The time for warnings is over. The time for war has begun.
The camera feed cuts to black.