Chapter 107

Pearls Before Swine

November 24, 2059

“You are all dismissed for the day,” Damien said from the other side of Leo's cell door. “Don't worry. I take full responsibility for Leo's behavior.”

“What do you want, Damien?” Leo asked, as a tentacle pulled his prison door open.

“I want to show you something and have you over for dinner.”

Leo felt sick. It was time.

“I hear your pulse racing, Leo. No, I'm not going to eat you. When I say dinner, I mean I will serve you some decent food and wine. I enjoy bringing culture to the uncultured masses. Probably a wasted effort in your case, but one must try. Now come.” A tentacle beckoned Leo forward.

Leo followed Damien as the large Boss squeezed through several smaller hallways to a large balcony looking out over the desert.

“I wish I'd developed a flying skill,” Leo said. “I've always wanted to fly.”

“Many implant wearers did gain a flying skill. Why didn't you?” Damien asked.

“I was always held back as support. I didn't get as many Demon Tears as I would have liked,” Leo answered, a partial truth. The other part was he'd given most of his Demon Tears to the late Mr. Osmond.

“I'm curious. Before you chose Guardian, you had the option of Paladin/Epic. I allowed a Paladin to attack me. The attack was strong, but not that impressive.”

Leo shrugged. “Let me put it this way. Even at a high level, a Paladin/Epic could not kill you in a fair fight, but if you were distracted for a minute, I could have killed you. Paladin are the heaviest implant-wearer damage dealers I'm aware of. But I knew as a Guardian I could bring people together. Give them hope.”

“How's that working out?” Damien asked.

Leo didn't answer.

“I'm going to fly you to the top of the mesa, Leo.” Damien wrapped tentacles around Leo's waist. Leo repressed a shudder. “Perhaps this will be some consolation.”

Damien floated them off the balcony, flying upward until they reached the top of the mountain-sized stone. They landed on its flat surface, facing the setting sun. “The sunset over the desert is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I promised to show it to you.”

Leo looked out at the desert. He had to admit Damien was right. The sun setting over the red sands of the barren desert was insanely beautiful. They watched it until the night set in. The stars were the brightest he'd ever seen them. The night grew cold and Leo couldn't help shivering.

“Come,” Damien said, wrapping his tentacles around Leo and floating him over the edge of the mesa and downward. “Tonight, we are having a special banquet for the implant wearers to give thanks for completing our new constitution. Of course, you were not invited, but I decided to make you my plus one. Our new constitution is a beautiful, enlightened document that will bring joy to the world population, and we're all very proud of it.”

“I see,” Leo said.

The wind rushing past the two of them as Damien flew him to their next destination caused Leo to shiver uncontrollably, but he didn't complain. They were greeted by warm air as Damien landed on another balcony.

Damien led him to a room that looked out over a dining hall. The dining hall wasn't as large as the amphitheater, but still huge, and packed with men, women, and children. At least ten thousand, possibly more. Bosses were floating over the long tables, using their many tentacles to serve food to the humans.

At the end of the hall stood a ten-foot-tall statue of a human and Boss, size scaled down. The human was holding a Boss's tentacles in an obvious gesture of friendship.

“A human designed that statue,” Leo said.

“How did you know?” Damien asked.

“It lacks something, a cynicism. It's far too hopeful to be designed by someone like yourself. Or maybe it was just a lucky guess.”

“The statue was made by one of the first elected human representatives to our New World Government. We have three-dimensional printers printing out more statues as we speak. It is to be a symbol of Human/Ascended One unity.”

“I see,” Leo said, feeling sad.

“Every implant wearer in Zabadule and their immediate families have joined us for the banquet. Twenty thousand, one hundred and fifty-three humans. Not counting you, of course. It would be best if you avoid the edge of our eating area and remain in the shadows. Other implant wearers may not appreciate my bringing you here.”

“I see.” Leo moved back into the shadows, but not before noticing documents written in different languages hanging on the dining hall walls.

Damien saw where Leo was staring. “That is the New World Order Constitution, written in ten different languages.” Damien handed Leo a piece of paper. “Here's an English copy. Why don't you read this while I bring our food?”

Leo read it, curious. He was no expert, but it seemed a very enlightened document. Why these creatures had taken the time and trouble to write it, he couldn't begin to imagine.

Soon Damien was back with food and a bottle of wine which he placed on the table along with good china plates, napkins, and far too many eating utensils. “This is Beef Wellington, the chef specialty, served with a 2029 Domain de Chateau.” He poured Leo a glass. “Try it.”

Leo did. It tasted like wine. “It tastes exactly like the 2028 Domain de Chateau.”

Damien somehow looked outraged. “It does not. The 2029 is far superior.”

“I'm kidding. You could be serving me a five-dollar bottle of wine from the supermarket, and I'd believe whatever you told me about it.”

“Pearls before swine,” Damien moaned.

“I'm curious. Can you appreciate wine in your new form?”

“My senses are so much better now,” Damien said. “Words cannot describe how much more I smell and taste. I don't feel the effects, though. I drank a keg of whiskey and it did nothing.” Damien raised his wine glass and took a sip. “We got some of your alchemists to administer us with all known poisons and hallucinogens. That weakness you exploited to kill two of our people will no longer work.”

“As I expected,” Leo responded.

“Not being able to indulge in drugs and alcohol makes the world less fun. I'm wondering if we can temporarily suppress our detoxification system for recreational purposes.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Leo picked up one of his forks and used it to eat some squash. He was wondering what Beef Wellington tasted like when he heard screams.

As Leo jumped up, Damien pushed something with a tentacle and a wall of thick plexiglass came down, separating them from the dining hall and blocking the sounds of screaming.

Leo rushed to the plexiglass and stared out at the dining hall. It was a scene from hell, made all the worse by the thick wall of plexiglass blocking most of the sound. Hundreds of Bosses floated through the vast dining area, tentacles moving too fast to see, killing and eating their implant-wearing guests and their families. Children screamed, faces filled with fear. A frightened mother covered her child with her body only to have a Boss's tentacle effortlessly reach past her, grab her child, pulling the child into its large mouth.

The attack had been so sudden that only a few implant wearers could activate their skills and mount a defense, but against hundreds of Bosses, their attempts were futile.

A body slammed into the plexiglass wall, leaving a blood stain before a Boss's tentacle grabbed it and stuffed the body into its mouth.

Feeling sick, Leo turned away and went back to his meal. He was not going to die hungry. Not this time.

Air-Mage 87: Leo! Leo! Can you help! Please! I'm sorry about everything I said. I'm hiding in the bathroom! I'm fucking terrified!

Future Man 10/16: You should be, Liam. It would seem the Bosses are tired of their diet of blood products and are going off it in a big way.

Air-Mage 87: What about you? What are you doing?

Future Man 10/16: I knew I was dead the moment I got captured. If you can get away, go downward. They'll be expecting you to attempt an escape by air and they'll be waiting for that.

Air-Mage 87: Why? Why did you let yourself get captured?

Future Man 10/16: Because by killing the Guardian, they'll win the war.

Air-Mage 87: Why would you want them to win the war?

Future Man 10/16: Because if they win the war, there's a very tiny chance they'll lose the war.

Air-Mage 87: That doesn't make any sense... Shit. One of them is at the bathroom door! Tentacles are coming in. I'm going to try my air-blade skill and escape. Not liking my chances. I'm sorry, Leo. I'm sorry.

Seconds later. Air-mage 87: became Air-Mage 87:

Sorry Liam. Leo thought, sitting back down at the table. “Bringing a brighter tomorrow into today, I see. When you said you were having me for dinner, it is what I thought, after all. I'm beginning to think I can't trust you, Damien.”

Damien let out a loud sigh. “Let me assure you once again, Leo, I'm not going to eat you. We are sitting down together for a nice, quiet dinner. The way you always think the worst of me and my kind is getting tiresome.”

Leo grabbed a knife and fork in shaking hands. He cut off some of the Beef Wellington and took a bite. “This is quite good,” Leo said, chewing his food with difficulty. The truth was it tasted like sawdust, and his mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. He took a gulp of wine to wash it down.

“You see, Leo, my people's food procurement committee had a discussion, and decided that human blood and blood products were all well and good, but no substitute for fresh human protein in the form of meat. The fresher the better. As a result, we've made a few minor changes to our food procurement policies.”

“Well,” Leo continued. “Your world constitution does say food is a fundamental right of all intelligent beings. But it also says something about all intelligent beings having a right to safety and dignity.”

Damien picked up a fork and knife and cut off a slice of his dinner, his size making it look like he was performing watch repair or surgery on a small animal. He put the food in one of his smaller mouths with surprising delicacy, taking a sip of his wine to wash it down. “No country or government in existence follows their constitution. The constitution is there to look pretty and give their country or government the illusion of legitimacy, so their people shut up and pay their taxes.” Damien took another bite, tiny for a being so large. “I didn't want to eat the elected human representatives, but they were already causing problems, and it's my job to identify liabilities and eliminate them.”

“I'm not a liability?” Leo asked, forcing himself to keep eating.

“Not yet,” Damien said. “The other implant wearers, however, are the only beings on this planet with the power to hurt us. I don't want to exterminate them, but we have no choice. At this time, the Ascended Ones are hosting many banquets around the world.”

“What I don't understand is why you waited this long.”

Damien took another sip of his wine. “We wanted to get the World Constitution finished. That took longer than we thought. And we needed to lure the world's implant wearers out of hiding so we could kill them all, and that also took time. Listening to accounts of your previous life, it was clear we were sloppy the first time around, leaving far too many of your kind alive to cause problems, and we didn't want to repeat that mistake.”

“I imagine the regular humans might notice all the implant wearers going missing?” Leo said.

“Well,” Damien said, finishing his wine. “My people, the Ascended Ones, had a few meetings about that, and we decided it is all your fault.”

“My fault? That seems far-fetched.”

“Far-fetched?” Damien said. “Really? My people convinced the human race we're kind benevolent beings, both before and after the Change. Blaming this massacre on you is a piece of cake. Have you finished your meal?”

“Yes.”

“Then please come this way.”

When Leo stood up, he couldn't help looking over at the dining hall. It was much calmer. The Bosses were floating peacefully now, relaxing after having gorged themselves. He saw a stray arm or leg here and there, and a lot of bloodstains, but no human survivors. All of Leo's contacts were dead, even the traitor implant wearers like Frank, who Leo didn't like and barely knew.

Soon Leo was sitting at a desk in a large room, surrounded by Damien and five other Bosses.

“We have decided you killed all the implant wearers in a misguided attempt to destroy the alliance and crush the enlightened world order. All very sad,” Damien said. “We want you to write and sign a confession.”

“I see,” Leo said, looking at the red pen lying next to a piece of paper. “And if I refuse?”

“I'm certainly not going to torture you, Leo,” Damien said. “I've always been a gentle pacifistic soul, preferring to pay others to do that sort of thing. But my friend Ong Pong, floating next to me, has personally supervised the torture and execution of thousands of political prisoners.”

Floating next to Damien was a smaller, more spherical-looking Boss.

“Is Ong Pong a real name?” Leo asked.

“Ong Pong means gentle, benevolent one in his native language,” Damien responded. “But, more importantly, I told him about my problem and he laughed and said, 'Let me at him. I crush his spirit like a bug'. I look forward to watching my new friend in action.”

Ong Pong floated towards Leo.

Since the implant wearers suppressing his skills were dead, Leo could activate his skills and fight. But he knew it would be a pointless act of futility. His skills might be strong enough to annoy the Bosses if he was lucky.

I'm sorry Lydia. Sorry friends. One way or another, I'll be joining you soon.

“That won't be necessary. Since nothing I write here will alter your future actions, I will write what you want me to.”

Ong Pong's tentacles drooped slightly, somehow looking disappointed.

“Very good,” Damien said. “I thought you might see it that way. Please write: 'I, Leo Edwards, wish to confess to the mass murder of all the implant wearing traitors. I'm writing this of my own free will and have not been coerced in any way.' How did you kill them?”

“I killed them all with my bare hands?” Leo suggested.

“That sounds slightly implausible. How about you used a secret organization of highly elite implant wearing assassins? Let's call them the Death... No. We'll call them the Lightning Death Squad. This will put fear into the hearts of the little people, which is always a good thing. For us, that is.”

“Fine,” Leo wrote, “I Leo Edwards, aka the Guardian, ordered an elite group of implant wearers known as the Lightning Death Squad to eliminate the traitor filth. Death to the traitors. Death to the alliance. Death. Death. Death.”

“Do you suppose three deaths are enough?” Leo asked. “I could put more in if you want.”

“I think three deaths will be enough,” Damien said. “Now sign it with your full name.”

Leo did so.

“Very good. Time to escort you back to your cell.”

“You'll tell me if you're going to eat me, right?” Leo asked. “You won't just sneak it on me?”

Damien let out an exasperated sigh. “As I keep telling you, Leo, we are not going to eat you. We are not some monster who eats every human they encounter. Now come with me. If I have to drag you back to your cell, neither of us will be happy.”

“I'm aware your skills are no longer suppressed, Leo,” Damien said as he tossed Leo back into his cell. “Don't even think of trying to escape.”