Prologue 1/2

The universe and everything beyond it follows a great unknowable pattern. The why and the how of this pattern has been lost to time, but it's sufficient to understand that things have a startling tendency towards similarity across all of time and space. That is to say things, beings, places, and concepts have a tendency to appear and repeat themselves throughout the universe regardless of what one believes should or should not exist.

The humanoid is a basic, five-pronged being that tends toward upright mobility, and are a staple of the universe's life forms. It's a good design, fairly durable, with endless customization options. Some of the weakest, and some of the most powerful species in existence all share the common humanoid design. 

The pattern even accounts for a certain range of behaviors common to all humanoids. A laugh is a laugh in every galaxy, a smile is a smile, and a glare is a glare. 

A Space Elf is a fairly standard humanoid creature with a few customizations; they're universally pretty, immune to shame, and their ears are terribly long. Their society is organized in a fashion that while highly advanced, would be recognizable to a human. 

With this in mind, when I say Aldus Divine, a Space Elf, was just democratically elected “President for Life” of his entire galaxy, it's not without some awareness of how absurd that statement is.

Oh, Aldus was so happy! Space Elves have a lifespan which measures in the hundreds of thousands of years, and this election had been going on for at least a thousand. Even for a Space Elf, that's quite a long time to focus on one thing. 

Consequently, Aldus Divine had just come off of the mother of all victory parties. That is to say, he'd just come back from a very refreshing orgy which had consumed his entire home planet for the better part of five years. He'd reconnected with old flames, made a lot of friends, done a lot of highly refined drugs, accepted huge sums in bribes; but only in public and on the record. 

He even took the time to donate his genetic material to one of the cradle worlds, where his offspring would be born from a machine and be free to struggle with their fellows until they were old enough to connect with the larger Space Elf population. If he were extremely lucky, he thought, they would not survive; or if he were less lucky, they would survive, but he wouldn't have to meet them. 

Yes, Aldus Divine was an absolute paragon of moral virtue, at least in the sense that Space Elves measured things like morality; which was not often, and without conscience.

He is not, of course, the main character of the story, that's Ben, and he'll show up soon enough. The poor lad has just been approved for the first real vacation of his adult life, and he's packing his luggage; he can't figure if he's going to bring a bunch of sci-fi books with him to Hawaii or not.

Oh, Ben. Laying down on his bed in his one-bedroom apartment, he shut his eyes, letting his life wash over him. Feeling the gratitude he ought to feel towards the people who have selflessly assisted him in his life, asking for nothing in return. He'd worked hard as well and was reaping the sweet fruits of success. Let him savor the feeling of victory.

Aldus Divine certainly was.

The elf stood tall at the mouth of a great, shining cavern, an enormous staircase leading down into the dark. Everything was made of a white, shining, opal-like substance, including the entire featureless surface of the planet. He was alone and savoring the moment.

It was all his now, everything, forever, or at least as long as he could keep his tight fist clenched around life. He'd lied and cheated and betrayed his way to the top of a society of the greatest liars, and cheaters, and betrayers in the whole universe. He had absolute power over them now. The full might of The Empire trembled at his voice, eager to fulfill his commands; no matter how aberrant, or abominable, or awful.

He would fulfill every desire till his brain was numb, then he would reset his mind to pure innocence, and debase himself again; over and over, forever. Endless passion, endless pleasure, endless power. 

He would also, at some point, devote some of his time to making sure the gravy train didn't stop running, and that The Empire didn't collapse.

Honestly, this was the easiest and best job in the entire universe. The Empire had been running itself for a literal eon without anything more than the occasional poke and prod from the central government, which was mostly ornamental as far as the average citizen was concerned.

All of their major threats had been extinguished and banished to The System, which was a convenient dumping ground for all problems. All the flaws and imperfections of their species had long ago been polished away, giving them bodies which were optimized for pleasure and eternity in what they considered to be paradise.

His steps were graceful, his body was slender and lithe, his hair was white and hung down his back, and his ears were just impractically long. Like every other member of his species, he had a supremely punchable face, and would give anyone looking at him an uncomfortable boner.

Aldus practically floated down the steps.

The surface of the planet was barren of all life, a shining shell of rainbow white, like the inside of an oyster. Space Elves loved to brag, and many a prisoner of war had heard their torturer talk about the capital planet; how valuable and unique it was; how it took a million years to grow the giant, gentle space oyster, and ten million more before the planet had finished forming. About how they had killed the sentient, peaceful being and feasted on its body; its psychic screams were recorded and available for purchase.

That precious, planet-sized pearl had been carefully carved out by The System, who had also provided the baby giant space oyster to begin with, and turned it into their capital planet. 

Speaking from a perspective of absolute fairness to the Space Elves, it was a gorgeous planet. It was unique. It was valuable. 

Only a human would have thought it wasn't worth the price. 

Aldus descended into the dark cavern down The Opal Steps, to the planet's interior, which was hollow and contained the central government. 

His thoughts were not the sort of thing anyone but a psychologist or a priest were equipped to deal with. His mind was occupied by all the depraved, formerly illegal things he was going to do. How he was going to be able to get anything he wanted from The System, about how all those who had been thrown in there would suffer from his requests, and how he would delight from that suffering.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Aldus Divine was the paragon of being a total fucking dirt-bag, at least in so far as how humans measured morality; which was constantly, and with great pain.

Aldus looked back one last time, savoring the sight of space.

It was frustrating how beautiful it was on the surface of that planet, how awe-inspiring the view was. If only it hadn’t been created by such a wretched people as them.

The Capital Planet was situated in an artificial solar system. What had once been a completely empty, blank pocket of space in their galaxy had been carefully engineered to have way too many suns, one of each color; an asteroid field of literal, moon-sized gemstones; and a few gas giants with spectacular rings, thrown in as an afterthought. 

The Astro Engineers who designed it were still having nightmares about the maintenance plan. They just knew some President for Life was going to demand they “Change out the light bulbs” when a sun got a bit off-color.

Indeed, Aldus Divine, who continued his walk, cackled to himself at the thought of doing just that. He would promote one of his old rivals, who was an Astro Engineer, to the head of the project and then drop that massive pile of shit on his desk.

Aldus pictured it, he would be standing out there, gazing at the spectacular sight with Drevus Swift, the old rival.

He would make Drevus stand there for a few days while he pondered, and then, he would point at the purple star and say 'Don't you think that one looks a little off? No, it definitely looks off. I don't think we'll be able to update it, it needs to be replaced. President's orders,' and then Aldus would pat old Drevus on the head and walk away, and probably mate with whoever Drevus was keen on at the moment.

It was actually one of his campaign promises, not Drevus specifically, but that he would humiliate all of his old rivals and share the details with the public. They loved that sort of thing. It might have even won him the election, but that was a matter of fierce debate among the public. It's worth mentioning that all the other candidates had already quietly taken their own lives, which was both tradition, and a fate far preferable to the endless humiliation subjected on those who had dared run against the winner.

The Capital Planet was a king's jewel, situated upon a cosmic crown in space. Clouds of vibrant gas floated in the region, dressing even the darkness of space in beauty. The surface of the world wasn't perfectly smooth, instead having a rolling, almost bumpy texture; it caught the light better, giving a wonderful contrast of light and shadow.

It was also so, so terribly quiet. There was no wind, not on the surface, merely the simple circulation of air. A bleak, sterile, awful beauty that shone so bright it would burn the eyes. Space Elves were good at creating things like that.

Aldus did wonder, with a sense of barely restrained glee, what had caused the previous President for Life to abdicate his position. It had never happened before. The special election which had consumed the galaxy for the last thousand years was an anomaly in an otherwise smooth historical pattern.

What sort of sordid secrets would he learn? The former president wasn't that old either. Sure, he was approaching the last two hundred and fifty thousand years of his life, but he was still in his prime! If he wanted to, he could extend his life practically indefinitely. The man had been President for Life, there were options available to him that weren't available to anyone else. 

So, why? Why ever quit?

Another of Aldus's campaign promises, one he fully intended to break, was to tell the public all the details. But, no, that secret would be for him and him alone. Nobody could hold him to it anyways, there wasn't a process in place to remove him from his office, and anyone who tried to make noises about that would be thrown into The System, a fate far worse than death.

He reached the bottom of the grand entrance, half expecting a parade, and fully expecting another absolute apocalyptic rager of a party.

But there was no parade, no music, and no food.

Just a very old elf, who was about to give up the best job in the universe, standing alone in a gigantic gaudy entrance hall. So the ancient rabbit wanted to do it like that, eh? Fine, the party was inevitable, and would go on forever anyways. Aldus only got to do this once.

“Are you prepared?” Dremian Divine asked, an expression of. . . Aldus struggled to find the right word for what he saw. It was a foreign emotion to Space Elves, but it did exist in them.

“Why do you seem concerned, Light of the Empire?” Aldus asked, using one of the ten thousand titles for the position, and using it with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Come with me. I have evacuated the planet and will conduct your orientation. What we say will stay between us, forever.”

Aldus kept his body language composed, but inwardly, he was both confused and a little putout. Then, he looked around and realized that the two of them were well and truly alone, so he relaxed. Aldus shrugged and let his emotions play across his face, one side of his mouth raising and an eyebrow going up. It was an expression that said 'Ok, whatever, dude,'

“The entire planet?” Aldus asked, struggling to keep up with Dremian's brisk pace. This was all wrong, he thought, nobody walks this fast, ever.

“You will soon see.”

They walked in silence after that, and eventually, reached the heart of the planet. The seat of power of their entire empire. The Glorious Throne- oh wait, Dremian took a hard left and led them to a different room.

This room was more functional than magnificent. It had no chairs and was occupied by a holoprojector in the center of the room. It was positively ancient, a heavy square box set low into the floor, with a large, smooth blue dome recessed on the top of it.

“Do you know the history of our position? Its origins?” Dremian abruptly asked as he waved his hands over the ancient piece of technology. Aldus almost snickered when he realized the piece of garbage actually had to warm-up.

“Naturally. As the empire expanded, a central ruling body was required-”

“No,” Dremian said, cutting Aldus off.

“No?” Aldus asked, starting to get a little pissed off now. This was his day, the best day of his life, and some fossil was trying to haze him.

“No. This position exists for one simple awful purpose.”

“And what's that, Dremian,” Aldus asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“We exist to keep the humans contained, Aldus. That is our only job. That is why the whole might of the empire is at our, and now your, disposal; because even everything we have is not enough.”

The silence stretched between them, and an abrupt hum came from the holo-projector. It came to life, and a blue planet with green continents was displayed, hovering at eye level with the two Space Elves. It was, if I would be so bold, a fetching and naturally beautiful planet, and a jewel to surpass anything the elves had ever created.

Aldus stared at the blue planet, his face a completely blank politician's mask.

Aldus continued to stare, the seconds stretching into an uncomfortable minute, and then into ten of them. They were by far the most awkward, uncomfortable ten minutes either of them had ever experienced in their long, long lives.

Dremian glanced at the blue planet, and then at the face of his replacement.

“Aldus,” Dremian said, “you weren't honestly expecting this position to be an endless party, were you? You must have thought to yourself that there had to be more to being the Warden of the Empire than endless pleasure and privilege?”

Aldus's long ears twitched, and he gently coughed, never taking his eyes off of the hologram, still pretending to be staring at it in profound thought.

“Not even a single time, in a thousand-year election?”

Dead silence.

“By the rainbow stars of the capital, we are so fucked,” Dremian said, his face giving way to an expression of pure, unadulterated horror.