Fight the Weather Power

The sun relentlessly beat down on Jeremiah's farm. Each day it shined with a fiery gaze, leeching the moisture from the earth. His fields, once fertile, were now a cracked expanse. His crops were withered and drooped. His whole property felt brittle and lifeless.

He stood at the edge of his domain with a weathered frown. The land all around him had become a desert, a sign of the Weather Authority's iron grip on the skies. He knew this drought wasn't a natural disaster. It was part of the Authority's political trade-offs. There was rain somewhere, falling in abundance, nourishing the fields of those deemed worthy.

It was a cruel irony, he thought as his hands traced the deep fissures that had formed in the ground. The very technology that had promised to solve weather disasters had turned into a tool of oppression. He had spent his time following the rules, hoping his loyalty and form-filling would be rewarded. But what had that left him with? Just ruin.