“You all ready?” Atlas said as the final Ange’s Angel clone was turned on.
Atlas stood in front of a sea of Anges, forty-five of them in total. Angelique had a lot more worlds than she let on.
Angelique had changed her tune about hiding colonies when she’d realized anyone with a powerful enough telescope and enough time could quickly identify them. And now that there was an alien out there actively trying to attack them, they needed the benefits of sharing knowledge between everyone’s worlds. That was the only way they were going to survive.
“You all look like backup dancers or something,” Trillion said, teleporting into the room.
The Ange’s Angels in the room pretended not to react to Trillion’s remark, but Atlas saw the collective eye rolls around the room.
“Let’s take the photo and get out of here,” one of the Ange’s Angels said.
Atlas had to hand it to Trillion. She had made this scene happen. It was something he thought he’d never see. All these clones in one location at the same time.
This system and all its resources were Trillion’s. Building forty-five spacecraft, all with their own Starnets, required a lot of material. Not that much compared to what she had in the system but still enough that Angelique felt obligated to go ahead with Trillion’s request.
Everyone gathered around in a semicircle. Atlas noticing he’d never been surrounded by that many red heads before. All three of their Ships jumped into the group, too, before Trillion stepped forward and placed a camera on the bench in front of them.
Atlas knew she was doing this all for theatrics, playing with her old friend. But he also knew Angelique had a bit of a god complex, especially with the way she was adored on her worlds. So having Trillion treat her like this was the perfect cure for her ego.
“Lex,” Trillion called out before the orb. Five of the orbs appeared floating above them all. Trillion patted hers on the head.
The camera flashed, and Trillion ran over to look at the photo. She smiled. “Everyone looks good.”
“Okay, see you in a bit,” all the Ange’s Angels said at once as they teleported out of the room, leaving just Angelique, Trillion, Atlas, their Ships, and their Lexes.
“Did you have to make me do that?” Angelique asked while slow clapping in a gesture that said, Did you have to make me look so silly?
“Nope,” Trillion said. “But who else is going to keep you humble?”
Angelique smiled at that remark. Trillion, Atlas, and the other beta explorers were the only people who’d known Angelique before she’d ventured out into the stars. Before she’d become probably humanities most powerful person—with access to more colonies and technology than anyone else.
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Like all old friends who knew someone before they got famous, Trillion knew something others didn’t. Atlas knew Trillion was impressed with what Angelique had accomplished. But because she’d known Angelique before she’d amassed that much status, she was able to bring her down a peg.
Atlas approved of her strategy. “So what now?”
“I’ll visit all my planets again, bring this new version of the Starnet to all my colony worlds.” Then she paused for a moment. “Well, my Ange’s Angels are going out to visit the colonies. I’m going to stay here. I’m enjoying exploring your world, Atlas. It’s all new to me. Normally I’m visiting worlds I built. This is like discovering a long-lost culture. The people are so different from any of my worlds.”
Atlas understood what she meant; their culture had changed a lot since he was last on their planet. They had developed in isolation for so long, going through a number of struggles because of the filter virus that had impacted their crops. It had brought their civilization to the brink of destruction through starvation—which was arguably the worst possible way to go. Out of that struggle, the people of Neuropa became a hard people that didn’t trust technology. They didn’t complain much, and above all else, they valued hard work. Even though his people had access to robotics and a lot of automation, they took pride in doing things with their hands. Having rugged hands had become a bit of a fetish—a sign of someone’s attractiveness and worth.
“They worship you, Atlas,” Trillion said.
Atlas blushed because she was right. After he’d appeared on their planet once more after years of being gone, he’d saved them from starvation by removing the filter virus. Then, because the Atua had destroyed the Starnet, he’d disappeared again.
He’d once again become immortalized. Stories were told of him coming in to save them, then leaving again without needing a thank-you, like a god solving a famine—deus ex machina.
Every time something happened on their planet, many of their people would pray to Atlas asking him to come back and save them.
It made Atlas question how humanity got to the level of reaching the stars when so many were quick to deify another human.
Atlas had to constantly remind himself that it was only a few of them making those proclamations—he really didn’t want to get a god complex. “That’s only a vocal few of them.”
“I’ve been visiting most of the cities,” Angelique said. “It’s not a small minority. A lot of people on the planet look up to you as if you’re some kind of god.”
“Don’t you find it fascinating?” Trillion asked. “Even though they know you’re a human and you came from Earth, they treat you as if you’re something more. Something bigger. One once told me you’d turned water into wine.” Trillion cracked a smile. “Although I’m not sure if he was joking or not.”
Angelique projected a halo around Atlas’s head. “Somehow the less time you spend on the planet, the more they look up to you.”
“Groupthink,” Atlas said, seeing confused looks on both of their faces. “It’s something we humans evolved to better get along with others. We couldn’t have everyone in the village disagreeing with one another, so we evolved to be agreeable.” His palms faced up in a gesture that said, Therefore. “Groupthink.”
Angelique looked about to question what he had just said. “But why don’t I see that happen on my planet? Even Earth had countries that thought differently.”
“It’s because there’s only one real country on Neuropa. Their population got so small they all congregated around one city. So they became a bit of a monoculture. I’m guessing once they started to expand again, they kept a lot of those cultural aspects.”
“By aspects you mean they kept worshipping you,” Trillion mused.
Atlas didn’t want to nod, but that was what he meant. He didn’t feel comfortable with his people worshipping him as if he was worthy of that. He didn’t want to be an empire. Then he considered it a little more. Emperor, he didn’t want to be an emperor. Or a king. Or any sort of lord. He wanted to be an explorer. He thought there was so much more in the universe to discover, and he hoped that he’d one day live long enough to discover most of it.