A bit of Story

A bit of Story

"You know, I'm beginning to understand why all those raving lunatics in stories tend to dwell in mountains, active volcanoes or other strange and inhospitable places."

"And why is that, Mister Chauzer? Our operation is in the downtown of a major metropolitan city, we get all the benefits of urban living and the wonderful feeling of no one giving a damn because your are just another skyscraper that dots the landscape."

"You know, you carry a good point. But the real reason is, I think, most of them are slightly more sane then your organization. They contain a healthy dose of paranoia. They worry about what their enemies might do to them. They run. They hide. They do everything in their power to prevent those who could destroy them from reaching them. It just makes sense.

"Mind you, not that trying to control the world ever makes sense. It's far too much hassle. One will being expressed and imposed upon the population of a world. I'm not a freudian, but someone take a look at the cigar."

"Gods bother, Mister Chauzer."

"Do I have to reference point B again? Fine examples of people in need of a large couch and a healthy dose of psychological medications."

The woman laughed. "I can see why we haven't killed you yet. You are much more entertaining then television."

"Hey, I'm C-list. It's not my fault your organization turned all the programming to reality TV."

"You wound me. Not even we seek that level of banality."

"Void's dust. It's your end goal. Everyone watching everyone else, all of the time. Get people used to the idea that they are always being watched, entice them with the fact that it might be their ticket to 15 seconds of fame or a thousand views on Youtube, and they'll record themselves for you. They'll hand you the tape, a pathetic little prayer to the wonderful system you've tied them into."

"And that they do. But we can't possibly watch all of them. Any pantheon of Dieties would grow weary of listen to the endless stream of Prayers. But that's what the Directive is intended to solve, an endless series of digital overlords who will watch and police all the sheep. One watcher per person, and multitudes for those who the system decides are worth the effort. That is how we found you after all."

"You say that as if I made it hard for you people to find me. Hells, it took you people almost a year to find me once started fishing for you."

"There are so many people in the world, Nevin. And far too many of them need a couch and a bottle of little pink pills of their own. But we found you before you did any harm."

"I'm just one simple man, Ms. Warner. How much harm can I do to your great world-spanning network? What's one counter-example against an organization that spins governments on its fingertips?

"You're more then just one man, Mister Chauzer. You're an esper. You can control men's minds. And worse, you can convince your kind that they need not fear us, that they should stop hiding in the shadows and prove themselves to be the Übermensch that far too many of you deluded little cretins believe yourselves to be."

"And that's why I'm here. To serve as an example."

"Yes. We will show that any esper that shows his head will find himself cut off: friends, family, job prospects, oxygen." The woman finally turned around from the skyline view, something in the prisoner's voice was off-place. He wasn't there. The table was there, shackles laying on it's surface dangling toward the ground. Closed and empty. In reflex, her thumb slammed on the panic button she held in her hand. She just had to survive now, thirty seconds more and the control team, the same one that grounded this monster in the first place would be here to finish the job.

"I think you might be wrong in what kind of example we plan to provide today." His voice came from so close. She wheeled toward the voice and saw the esper standing beside her at the window. One fist rested between his forehead and the glass. "But we've sidetracked ourselves. I was critiquing your choice for an organizational headquarters as opposed to a hidden chamber under the ground or some of great hidden edifice of stone."

"And I'm still not getting your point." She could feel it, something building up in the air around her. The tension, more then just the anticipation of the back-up, something was building in the air.

"Let me make it simple Ms. Warner." The door exploded, the control team streaming into the office. The esper remained with his back to them. "Today, my name is not Nevin Chauzer. You can call me Sampson."