“I AM THE INFINITE. None other than you, Imp, can accurately confirm that.”

Ron was entranced in thought, staring at the floor while he murmured to himself. This was not his favored location. It lacked the amenities of his other bunkers. The bed was too stiff, the pillows were nasty, and the toilet paper was harsh on his ass. But it was the closest one to Austin and the most expedient place to execute his plan.

Besides, it was a good thing to be centrally located on the continent. He was within a few hours of a jet ride to his sister’s bunker, assuming she would survive the anarchy of the aftermath. And he liked the central southwest. Didn’t want to leave it. When he’d finally emerge, this location might suit him well to fight the good fight of dominating whoever and whatever remained.

He didn’t know how long this emergence might take. It depended upon a number of things. How effective was his decoupler? What factors might affect its transmissibility? How might it respond in rain or other weather conditions? Would the replication window close as planned after fourteen days? What demons might have been deployed by his enemies? Biotech agents? Nukes? Nanobots? Hunter drones? Hybridized animals, birds, or reptiles? Bugs? That one bothered him the most.

Ron knew every nation state had been experimenting with insects as lethal biotech, but he wasn’t sure how far it had gone. And the thought of having to defend against bugs always bothered him. Every encounter with a bug rekindled bad memories of his mother’s obsession with cleanliness and hatred of anything nonhuman.

One day in his childhood, she discovered termites had invaded their mansion. She burst into his room, grabbed him roughly by the arm, and hastily threw Ron and his sisters into the car. They were ordered to stay silent, seat belts buckled, until she reached their new destination at an expensive hotel. The four of them stayed for months at that hotel, waiting for their new house to be constructed from scratch to her exacting specifications.

The new mansion had no wood framing, and the spaces between each metal stud were filled with foam insulation, including all inside walls. Baseboards weren’t applied until the gaps between the drywall and flooring had been sealed. The mansion’s concrete pad was reinforced in layers and doubled in depth to avoid termites from entering through cracks. Electrical outlets were sealed. Window frames were thickly caulked, and his mother personally inspected every potential entrance into the home, from dryer vents to hose bibs, ensuring even the smallest ant would be challenged to find its way inside.

For Ron, this severity of precision seemed a reasonable extension of his mother’s normal insanity. She didn’t think and didn’t care that her discovery of these invaders forced him to leave behind everything he valued in the old house. Toys. Clothes. Stuffed animals. Baseball cards. The ceiling vidscreen that displayed the stars slowly moving in concert with Earth’s rotation

She promised he could get a replacement in the new house, but when he reminder her, she replied harshly, “you’re too old.” This was her same rationale for all he left behind – which was everything.

She threw out the clothes and shoes he and his sisters wore that day. She even bought a new car, as if termites might have been lurking in the underbody of the old one.

He couldn’t recall if that series of events precipitated the arguments and screaming between his parents. Until then, in fact, he had never really noticed how they related to each other. What mattered to him at that point was what he owned.

Yet, after a few years of continuous parental torment, what mattered most to him were the squabbles, violence, hateful words, and vengeance. Unwilling to deal with the emotional toll it was taking on him, he decided to turn it off, to disgorge any emotion from his system and force himself to care only about what he possessed and who and what he controlled.

Their insensitivity to his needs exposed him to an immutable fact of humanity. People were stupid, he understood. Innately, utterly, resolutely stupid and selfish, even apparently successful ones like his parents. Since he was the only human he knew who held this unique insight and vision, he needed to ensure his personal success and longevity in order to pull his straggling species forward. He believed that if he could succeed at his quest, this alone would bootstrap humanity. He could then drag the species along behind him while destroying threats from detractors who failed to comprehend the superior nature of his vision.

Ron felt the only way to set humans on the right path, or at least a nonthreatening path, was to carefully curate the bilge that went into their minds and manage the excrement that emerged ungraciously from their mouths. Controlling what people thought was the real power, he knew, and a righteous power at that. Maybe even a power that would save humanity from its own foibles and utter impotence.

Fool them. Coerce. Taunt. Make them emotional. Love Ron. Hate Ron. Repeat Ron. Repeat Ron again. Keep their minds busy with inane, topical candy, and that will mitigate the danger of them thinking too much for themselves. No amount of possessions or pleasures could ever exceed that kind of power. The world he envisioned must not have armies of termites with too much independence of thought.

Ron glanced up at the numerous vidscreens on his video wall.

“Imp, what the fuck?” he complained. “I don’t need these screens. You give me all this and more through my Vistachit interface. Why am I looking at these? We’ve done the deed, the genius of my decoupler.”

“They’ll see now. They’ll see what I’m capable of doing. And it’s all for the best, isn’t it? We had too much incompetence. Too many pigs slopping in the filth and muck they considered their lives.”

“I will be known from this point as the creator of a new generation of humanity. For whatever is left will come to know my generosity and talents, come to be managed by me, grow to love me as their visionary leader. Isn’t it true, Imp?”

“To think, I was forced for so long, so many years, to tolerate the maggots who swarmed around me. Ministers of bullshit ministries, industrialists, lobbyists, military, senators, congressmen. Those who claimed they could prosecute or punish or judge, as if they could ever judge me. Worst of all were those beasts who considered themselves oligarchs or demigods, when none of them could rise to the challenge of assuming such a grand moniker. None, except me. And none of them had you, Imp.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Shit-eating maggots they were, now suckling their just desserts. They failed to provide me appropriate deference and gratitude. They could never have paid me back for all I had given them. It’s proper recompense for failing to recognize my superior wisdom and cunning. Even with the AIs they had, the braggard bastards, none predicted their own end.”

“Do you recall the number of times the maggots tried to take me down? Me, of all oligarchs? The one who has you? Why attempt the futility of that task? We were, we are, the perfect marriage of perfect humanity, perfect machine, and perfect mind coalesced into one supreme understanding of all that is seen and unseen.”

Ron glanced back at his screens, noting the relative positions of his remaining drones as they continued to carry their lethal payloads to the designated locations. They were small and agile enough to evade most radar and defensive systems, but adequately ample to carry their intended pathogens.

Something was wrong in the bunker, though. He was breathing faster than normal, and the air was getting dank.

“What the fuck is happening to the oxygen in this room, Imp?” he spat.

Imp did not respond, nor had Imp responded to any query since Ron had unleashed his plagues and other warfare. He assumed Imp was too busy assessing the impacts of the growing potential for devastation and determining appropriate countermeasures.

“I know you’re working extra hard, but hurry up with your processing. We’re too far underground for any missteps, and I’m sure as hell not going up to ground level where clouds of genetic, robotic, or nuclear death might find me. No, I’ll wait here these days, weeks or months until we’ve determined it is safe to rise again from the ashes and sniff the fresh air.”

“Huh,” he chuckled. “Did you see the General’s face as my boys dragged him away? Did you notice the fear in his eyes? All too late, he finally recognized he should have been focusing on me and my needs; my commands. Instead, he and his worthless uniformed buddies listened to and felt like they were accountable to others.”

“Uninformed uniforms who failed in their mission to protect me and you. They forced me to shield myself from Southern and all those assholes who were trying to get a piece of me. Nobody can say Herr General wasn’t warned. And that goes for my pathetic team of half-assed ministers and their minions. Shit, they were useless, no-assed ministers.”

“Glad I didn’t give them the decoupler antidote. Not one of them deserved it, not even Ed-gar, the sharp-toothed sucker fish. This is payback to that fish and all like him. Thrashing their heads and fangs to and fro, inflicting pain on me in my moment of deepest empathy.”

The thought of the gar reminded him of that fishing trip with his father.

“I hated the fucker. The father bitch. Hated him with a passion for his abusive mouth. His condescension. Always trying to belittle me as if it elevated him to do so. He had the gall to assume I could never reach his level, that I was the ineffective bastard child who lacked his brain power and magnificence.”

“He was always taunting me. Teasing and arrogant, as if I was innately incapable. Called me a ‘sissy’ for crying at the gar’s stab wounds. Laughed at me and joked to his friends and my sisters that I should have been a girl, or that even a girl would be more of a man than me. And he was merciless. Constant.”

“Perhaps he sensed my future greatness, and it scared him. That must be the case. He saw in me what he could never become. He was jealous of my talents, of my latent potential that is now being fully realized.”

“But for all the money he made, for all the power he wielded, it pales to my own accomplishments. No human ever achieved what I’ve achieved and the advances I’ve made. The decisions. The respect and love from my many admirers. The leaps forward for the race.”

“The fucker taught me coldness, though. Harshness. How to perceive my enemies even before they knew they were my enemies. How to engender and enforce obedience. How to bully and bluster and strike fear in hearts. Out-yell. Out-insult. Berate and belittle. Maximum vengeance and innuendo. Turn every accusation back onto the accuser. Never give-in or confess. Use the media as my tool to control the worms and the damage they could otherwise cause. To employ a cadre of duplicitous minions in my stable, little shit-shorn mules I could ride and ride until they collapsed from my ponderous weight, adoring and loving me all the way as I whipped their asses harshly with my acid tongue. I loved their cowering duplicity and unquestioning loyalty. Indeed, that was my constant orgasm.”

“And I found so many willing participants in that regard. Those who’d belly up to the bar and buy me drinks, willing to play my game, on my board, under my rules, thinking they were getting so much in exchange. Ring-kissing suckers to use and abuse as my lackeys. The cowards. The gutless slugs. Gutless, but useful.”

“If only that anemic fucker were around today. Oh, I’d force him to watch as his concubines and combines and harvesters and golf buddies and boards of directors liquified before him. I would tie him on a stool and tape his eyes open to experience the power I wield. He would then know what true power is. Right, Imp?”

“He’s long gone, but it matters not. When the history books are written, mine will be the name that stands out, as it should be. His will be less than a mention, less than a footnote. Perhaps ‘one-half contribution of genetic seed for the Righteous One.’ That will be his sole claim to fame.”

“Ah, such a good idea, though, don’t you think? Imp, when you get the chance, begin the rewrite of history to include my substantial role in it. In our new future, I want complete power over the media and organs of all knowledge. All history. We must be certain the human story is cleared of the lies and deceit of those who were my detractors. We’ll come clean, for once. Finally, an accurate depiction and glorification of my being.”

“Admittedly, though, I will miss my Sara. She was as adept as they came, the owner of my many personas, the binding glue to my many cohorts. Like a steed at my command, I’d simply think a thing, and she’d deliver it in spades. Perhaps she’s alive? I know she flew away after her pukefest. Let’s not forget that girl, Imp. We must be certain to see if she makes it through. Damn, I should have chipped her. Should have.”

“But we’ve got tech everywhere, even if most of it won’t be working for some time. We’ll get it going again, and eventually we’ll detect her. It’ll be a face rec app on a phone or traffic camera. Maybe one of our nanobots, and I’m sure the satellites are mostly still in orbit. You and I will commandeer all that’s left and worthwhile of the information infrastructure, and we’ll find my dear Sara again.”

“I mean, who’s around to bark commands at any longer? She was the best, the funniest. To watch her placid face, ready to break. To see how she twitched and jolted backwards as I yelled at her. Pushing thoughts into her brain and having her reject them so adroitly. Stiff upper lip, gal. Tolerate my anger, my energy, my potency. She could sense my pheromones, I know. That was cuteness. I will miss Sara if she doesn’t make it through. Her loyalty was astounding, and she clearly loved me for all I am.”

“Odd, Imp. It’s odd. Now that I don’t have her, I want her. I can’t recall wanting a woman for anything more than the obvious carnal needs. But Sara. Something in her was different. She knew me. She understood my richness. Brilliance. Grandeur. Sara appreciated me. Even if she didn’t always agree, she was always agreeable. Dutiful. Compliant. Talented. That is one we must find.”

Ron’s breathing was increasingly labored. “Imp? Look, you little shit. It’s like whore’s breath in here. What the fuck is happening with the HVAC? Did something break down? Are your sensors not working? It’s ninety degrees in here now, and the air is shit! Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you responding? Are you just fucking with me? Trying to scare me? Did you finally gain a sense of humor?”

“Look, I don’t give a fuck about where your fucking AI cloud server shit processors are focused at this moment. I don’t care if the rest of the world is imploding right now or if millions are dying. I don’t care if a missile is detonating overhead. I only give a fuck that you respond.”

Ron collapsed on the floor, his mechanical components quietly whirring as his body twitched.

“What the hell’s happening Imp, you ass? Where did you go? You’re failing, you idiot! Nothing else matters here but me."