It was in the third year of the forty-fifth leader in the land of America. There were wealthy who flaunting their consumption while many workers and people of color suffered. Some of the officers of the law even killed those whom they looked down upon. Day after day, crowds gathered in the streets to cry out against their oppression. Instead of heeding their protests, the leaders sent men with sticks and shields to suppress them.

Pestilence was poured out on the land. Fires burned in the West and the sky was filled with smoke. Storms pummeled the Southern coast and a disease struck 200,000 down. The people hid in their homes.

Physicians instructed the people to make masks for themselves. By doing so they would protect themselves and others from spreading the disease. They were also urged to keep a distance of six foot-lengths. Many wore the masks, but others scoffed and thought nothing of the warnings. “Who are they to tell us what to do,” they questioned, “Are we not free?”

In the seventh month of pandemic, there was a righteous judge who came to the end of her life. She had but one wish—that the leader and the governing body would take the proper time to choose her replacement. The men in power were anxious that another leader might rise up to take office before the matter was decided in their favor. So they conspired to quickly find a judge who promised to continue in their ways. A new judge was chosen to put before the assembly.

To mark their decision, they called forth a celebration and invited many men and women who had aided them. They did not wear the masks nor keep the six foot-lengths distance as the physicians instructed because they had become prideful and boasted in their health. Unknown to them, the plague entered their midst and struck down many in attendance. The leader, his wife and many of their companions suffered in those days.