Easter Island, Fall, 2050
His son didn’t quite believe his words.
Alin’s confidence and belief in himself ebbed and flowed like the tide.
“I had an idea. In case of emergencies that might pull me away. What if I put a series of prerecorded, so to speak, training sessions into your head. They’ll cover each step of your progression. You’ll have to complete each one and pass a test to move on to the next. Obviously, I’ll put time limits in place since I know you’ll be tempted to try to get through them as fast as possible. Everything will be tied in to your safety. Mind and body. I’ll give you the ability to start it.”
Alin asked detailed questions like he had been taught.
It took another half hour to hammer out the lesson plan to a level that was satisfactory to the two of them.
“So, with your consent I’ll get started while you sleep.”
“Yeah, sounds good. And, um, what about putting in the other safeguards we talked about the other day?”
“No. I think that complete mental blocks are potentially more dangerous than not. It could create a situation where your psyche is split. Your power is a part of you. On some level your subconscious will always seek to use it. Like you said before, it’s like breathing or blinking. Attempts to deny it will only make that part try harder to be seen and heard. You’d be at war with yourself.”
“And war doesn’t leave anyone that fought it better off than before.”
“Not necessarily. What is better and what is worse is a matter of perspectives. That individual’s and those around them. It’d be more accurate to say that the person will be changed by the experience.”
“I don’t want to turn evil monster, Dad. Can’t you just make me safe?”
“I can’t. If I try I might just bring about exactly what you don’t want.”
“Yeah, Uncle Eron said the same thing. That it was better that I knew that there was a tiger in the jungle stalking me than not.”
“Ignorance in that scenario isn’t bliss. Although, death by tiger sneak attack is perhaps the preferable way of dying to a wild animal. You don’t want a bear. Big bastards will just plant a paw on your chest and start eating you alive. They just have good PR.”
“Not helping, Dad,” Alin said flatly.
“What’s even better than knowing there’s a tiger is knowing exactly where it is… or maybe putting it in a cage. Or a large enclosure. Wild life sanctuary park. Just don’t be in the jungle with a tiger in the first place.”
“Okay, that last analogy doesn’t really apply to my situation, does it?” Alin rolled his eyes.
“Yeah. You’re basically the prey, the tiger and the environment. Splitting it up where the jungle is your body, while the prey is the part of you that doesn’t want the power and the tiger is the part that wants the power… doesn’t really work since it’s all the same being. Oh. My. God. You’re the Holy Trinity. Three in one. Separate, but the same… at the same time.”
“I’m telling grandma about your blasphemy.”
Cal waved a hand.
“She was used to it long before the spires showed up. On that note, are you ready to rest?”
Alin nodded.
He floated a few magic pills from the small bottle next to the bed along with a glass of magic water.
Alin would sleep while they worked to repair the brain damage. He’d wake with only a slight headache.
Mindscape training sessions didn’t usually go as long.
When Alin woke in about a day there’d be a special recovery meal prepared by Chef Alex. In fact the chef had put every once of skill and Skill into all of Alin’s meals for the next two weeks. They needed to be eaten right away for the most potent effect, but he couldn’t justify taking the chef all the way out to Easter Island for a week. The man was too valuable back home even if Alin had been okay with other people being around.
Cal took a few minutes of real time to insert the training sessions into his son’s head. He had taken inspiration for the idea from a classic movie. It had been about a city in space, shrouded in perpetual darkness. An experiment run by aliens on humanity. Incidentally, he and the aliens had quite a bit in common when it came to their power set. Though, he had more and was a lot stronger.
After he finished he took a moment to step outside the structure.
The island’s landscape was barren aside from soil, grass and rocks.
Moai stood where they had for who knows how long.
Silent sentinels gazing out into eternity.
Alin was right.
Stone withstood the ravages of time better than what they used to build their structures.
Even the tallest skyscraper would crumble to nothing long before the alien visages surrounding him.
Wood rotted. Iron rusted. Glass shattered. Plastics?
They too broke down. Sure, it was into microscopic bits that then spread out into the environment to basically remain there forever.
But, some morons believed that didn’t really count if they couldn’t see them with the naked eye.
People of the pre-spires modern era had been filled with the stuff straight from the mother’s womb.
Turning superhuman solved the problem for him.
Those initial physical scans back on the Threnosh world had told him that.
A few doctors and scientific-types were working on it for the rest of the population.
Everyone working together could’ve turned the world into a paradise within a generation if they didn’t have monsters and invaders to deal with.
Then again, the classes and powers that could make that happen came with said evils.
“What’s the solution?”
No one answered.
Except for the crab monsters.
They came out of the ocean. Big as cars. On scuttling legs that could spear right through a steel chestplate. Claws the size of a man clacked menacingly.
He killed them all with a thought.
“That’s a lot of meat.”
Monster flesh tasted bad at best and could killed a person at worst.
It took levels and Skills to make it edible. And the cook-type needed to be high level to get anything worthwhile out of the dish.
These crab monsters weren’t found off the California coast, which meant it was worth bring some back for experimentation.
He did have a chest of holding with a lot of capacity.
He began breaking down the crab monster corpses with a sigh.
Well, he didn’t have much to do besides keep an eye on the reports coming in from everywhere. Butchery didn’t even take up a fraction of his power and attention.
Truth be told, most of it was dedicated to monitoring his son.
He sighed again as Alin began to dream.
The same one every time.
The Manila Fog Quest.
He was tempted to shield his son from it, but stopped himself.
Alin needed to face his fear. To hide from it was to give it control.
And that couldn’t happen.
Cal dreaded what lay at the end of those paths.
----------------------------------------
Washington, D.C., Fall 2050
In a white house, inside an oval office a fat, red-faced man sweat with worry and despair.
Kerkestis, Eidolon of Sunor had been to the place many times in the past, though she had distanced herself over the past year when it became clear that the current president was not long for his position.
To be fair to the man, despite a steady diet of cheeseburgers and deep-fried potato strips, he had yet to drop dead.
Sadly, for it would’ve made the transition smoother.
“Please, can’t you do something? Use your influence. I don’t deserve this. I’ve served honorably and with dignity. I’ve shepherded our nation to our Rightful Destiny over my terms. Why can’t they just let me finish my last term?”
“I believe the senators and congress people were upset by your behavior with several of their daughters and wives.”
The Eidolon of Sunor debased herself even entertaining such banality.
She was above mere mortals.
Such drama should’ve been beneath her.
Unfortunately, greater powers outside the America forced her to assume a more humble posture.
Had she taken the reins in her hands openly the Cruces would have all the excuse they needed to crush her like an insect.
Over a thousand years of rarely challenged existence only to present herself as lesser at the hands of mere children.
“It’s not fair,” the fat president wailed.
Yes, she thought, it is never fair.
“I do not see what troubles you so. Yes, you have one year left on your term. Why not think of this impeachment as an early retirement? You have earned ease and leisure in your final years.”
She continued to refuse the magic to extend the man’s life despite his pleas.
He was useless to her.
Not so the younger or more competent members of this nation’s ruling class.
For them she’d dangle a year of added life at a time.
A few drops of rejuvenation in a bottle for great deeds and loyal service.
She had done this on other worlds.
The slow feeding kept most of them obedient and pliable.
To give the entire bottle would only mislead them into thinking they were free of her chains.
“But, don’t you think that the time isn’t right for transition. The Terminus Decree. The Bountiful Decade. They’ve shaken things up. We’ve had to pivot from reclamation to consolidation and defense. We keep losing settlements.”
“Far-flung and isolated. Evacuation protocols are working as planned. We’ve brought the majority of your citizens here where we can better keep them safe from the monsters and evil men. Now, I believe the meeting is set to begin.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
In truth they were five minutes late.
The president had wanted to beg, plead and wail.
Kerkestis rose.
She towered over the corpulent president, who trudged behind her like a petulant child into the office next door.
There were only a handful of people seated around the opulent wood table.
A few cabinet members and an aide each.
They were there to discuss a specific issue and each man’s responsibilities overlapped.
Naturally, they jockeyed for power.
Like children playing at governance.
That, much like the humble setting, never failed to remind Kerkestis how callow the humans of this world were.
She took her seat at the far end of the table in the chair crafted to her specifications.
A thousand hours from the highest-leveled wood artisan in the nation had gone into it.
She had deemed the man’s work adequate and added an appropriate reward on top of what he had received from the Quest.
Truth be told, she was going to kill him had he produced something beneath her standards.
The intent had to be true for the Quest.
None could fool the spires.
The president groaned as he plopped down into his own chair at the other head of the table.
“What new bullshit do you have for me today?”
The cabinet members eyed each other.
She saw no fear in them.
Only contempt for the fat, sweaty Earthian.
She knew that all of them were already looking to secure their futures after the transition of power.
Indeed, she had whispered into their ears.
She whispered in all of their ears.
The death of Sut’s Will and most of the other eidolons elsewhere on this world had left her the unchallenged leader. The others were too inexperienced or simply didn’t care to take charge, like Adras’ Will. Those that may have had the strength and intelligence to challenge her, like Salla’s Will, were loyal to their Gods’ commands. She would have no issues with them until that changed.
Treasury, Labor, Defense, Health and Human Services, Homeland Security.
Four of the departments were represented.
The Vice President was not present because he had fallen out of favor with the president.
She may have encouraged the man as a potential future president much like she had for the other front runners.
“C’mon, I don’t have all day!” The president slammed his fist on the desk.
No one flinched or even batted an eye.
The Secretary of Defense opened his mouth at the same time as the Secretary of Homeland Security.
The Americans had too many redundancies.
Kerkestis planned to remedy that issue with the next administration.
The president pointed to the latter.
Homeland Security was his man, unlike Defense, who thought of himself as the one, true leader of the combined armed forces.
Kerkestis was certain that a military coup would have already been launched had she and the other eidolons not been present.
“The Philadelphia riots have been stopped. We’re still waiting on word about the other ones, but they’re small and we’ve handled those in a day or two at most in the past. The criminals are being processed as we speak. Those that can walk will be distributed to hot spots within the day. The injured will follow suit as we heal them up.”
“Ungrateful shits,” the president muttered.
“Excuse me, Mr. President?” the Secretary of Defense said.
The president waved him on.
“Reports are coming in up the chain of command concerning those conscripts, specifically.”
“Of course they are,” the president sighed. “Let me guess. They’re useless. Well, so what? They’re there to take hits for our loyal soldiers. It’s a bonus if they do anything else. Unless they’re fragging our guys. It that case you already know what to do to them. The laws are clear. Treason in war time is death.”
“No, Mr. President. That’s not what’s happening.”
“Well… spit it out then!” The president scowled.
“They’re disappearing.”
“So? They’re running away and getting eaten by monsters. Sounds like they’re solving the problem for us. Maybe I’ll create an award for them.” The president laughed.
“We need them, sir. Even if all they’re good for is taking hits. My men are being run ragged trying to defend our citizens.”
“Okay,” the president shrugged, “where are they going?”
“We don’t know and we don’t have the resources to investigate. If they’re just running away, then you’re right. They’re in a monster’s stomach and we’ll never know. I’ve attempted to speak to intelligence, but they’ve been… uncooperative. If you—”
“Fine,” the president gestured to his young aide. “Make a note for my next meeting with the director.”
The pretty woman took notes.
Kerkestis remained silent. She was content to let the young ones play their roles.
The fate of the world’s inhabitants as a whole didn’t concern her.
There were countless of humans and other species across the endless worlds of the Pantheon to repopulate this one as necessary once they had control.
“Are you done?” The president glared at the Secretary of Defense.
The old man looked as if he had been chiseled out of stone. Unlike the others in the room, he had seen combat. As a young man in the pre-spires days, in the bunkers as a middle-aged man and back out in the sun’s light as an old one.
“Captain Patriot—”
“No. Same answer as last time.”
“She’s being wasted in her current posting.”
“She’s lucky to be alive, let alone free. She cost us. I want you to think about how much better of a position we’d be in today if we had ten thousand super soldiers rather than a few hundred. A number that is dwindling faster than we can replace. Plus the fact that without the Eidolon of Sut’s expertise those replacements are inferior.”
“I’m certain that if she were to be reinstated in her old position we’ll buy ourselves some breathing room. Weeks on the low end of our projections. Up to three months in the best case.”
“Not while I’m president. Next problem, you!” the president thrust a sausage-like finger at the Secretary of Treasury.
The old man was pale and thin with hair that didn’t fit the rest of his appearance.
It was too vibrant and full.
“Nothing new from me today, Mr. President.”
“Good man. So, be quick. That way we can tell them we’re doing something about it and they should just be patient. We are living in trying times after all. Constant monster attacks isn’t good for the economy.”
“Well, that’s just it. It should be… at least for those that survive and earn points. More points, more spending.”
“Still not going up?”
“No, sir. The owners are sharing their concerns with me. Their investments aren’t bearing fruit. In fact, other the last three years they’ve been losing points. It’s gotten really bad since the Bountiful Decade started.”
“Tell them what you always tell them. We can’t make people buy things from their stores.” The president glanced at Kerkestis. “Doing so would cause greater problems.” He turned to the Secretary of Homeland Security. “Are you not implementing the redistribution program? I signed it into law six months ago.”
“We are. Emergency stores of food, medicine and other supplies have never been more full.”
“And the people are still not spending points in our stores,” the Secretary of Treasury said.
“We’ve gotten a few reports of flying drones dropping off supplies,” the Secretary of Homeland Security said.
The president’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the kind of thing you lead with.”
“They’re still unconfirmed, Mr. President. We’re working on obtaining hard evidence.”
“I’d bet money those are connected. You two work together on this.” The president regarded each man in turn. “See if the timing lines up.”
Kerkestis would also bet gold coins that the flying drones delivered supplies shortly after the redistribution program was implemented.
She made a mental note to set one of the Eidolon’s of Ekra to discover the nature of these drones.
Although, it didn’t take millennia of experience to make an educated guess on the responsible party.
Nevertheless, she remained silent.
It would not be wise to prod the lazy gigant into anger. Vigorous action followed and that would’ve ruined her plans.
The Secretary of Labor raised his hand and adjusted round-rimmed glasses.
He was a tall man, lean and lanky. Half the age of the others, he had grown up in a world of the spires. Despite the privilege of wealthy parents in the bunkers, he wasn’t soft by the standards of the old world. He had shed blood. Unlike most of the old, fat men in the room.
“Mr. President, fellow secretaries. I won’t waste your time. Employment numbers remain terrible. It seems that the issue my department have been dealing with are tied into the same ones yours are. It would’ve been nice to have that information months ago.”
“Save the grandstanding. No one’s watching,” the president said. “Just give me your report and shut up, like always.”
The Secretary of Labor stiffened.
“Of course, Mr. President. In the broad sense… people don’t want to work. To get granular with it… people don’t want to work jobs. The jobs we need them to.” He nodded to the Secretary of the Treasury. “Our constituents are having difficulty staffing their stores, farms, ranches, everything. The workers ask for too many points and those that do take up the work are lazy and don’t last long. Our constituents are forced to use their points to replace human labor with the automatic spires services.”
“How much would it take to get them to shut up about it?” the president said.
“We don’t have it in the budget,” the Secretary of Treasury said.
“We raise the points tax. I can’t run again, so what do I care.”
“We lack the manpower to enforce that,” the Secretary of Homeland Security said.
“I agree,” the Secretary of Defense said.
“Well, shit,” the president snorted. “Did Hell just freeze over?”
Kerkestis would reinforce the idea that it would be mistake to raise taxes in private, if necessary. There were other nations the citizenry could emigrate to and several of them were objectively better situations all around than America.
“Well, we can’t make people work that’d be the ‘S’ word and that’s a big no no.” The president rolled his eyes.
“Not exactly,” the Secretary of Labor said. He regarded Defense and Homeland Security for a moment. “The 13th Amendment.”
“I object to this road. It’s a non-starter. Don’t you remember what happened to Florida?” the Secretary of Defense said.
“That’s because they went full slavery. Masks off or on.” The Secretary of Labor smirked. “What I propose is that we use the 13th Amendment. If the rioters are being wasted on the front lines, then wouldn’t they be more useful manning our stores, cleaning, cooking and all the other essential jobs that a functional society requires?”
“What’ll stop them from disappearing?” the Secretary of Homeland Security said.
“For one thing, they’ll be doing their jobs here and in our other largest cities. It’s easier to vanish out in a small, isolated town in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’d want to explore the logistics of this first, but I’m tentatively on board,” the Secretary of Homeland Security said. “I’d want something more solid to compel obedience.”
“Careful,” the Secretary of Defense said. “If you start talking about using magic and Skills for that. Collars? Chains? I know you know what happens to the people that do that. We’ve received plenty of evidence.”
“Yes, yes, everyone here has seen them. No slavery. But, the 13th Amendment is enshrined in the Constitution. Fully legal,” the president said.
Kerkestis knew that the Cruces wouldn’t share the same sentiment.
She would have a quiet word of warning with each of the men dancing on her strings.
Slavery was doom.
Some individuals out there didn’t care about the technicalities of words written hundreds of years ago.
She knew the mindset for she was one.
Power cared nothing for rules.
It made or unmade them as it saw fit
“That reminds me,” the president said. “I already know the answer, but I have to ask. The reintegration of the dollar?”
The Secretary of the Treasury shook his head.
“Fucking ungrateful fucks! How can we control the economy if we don’t control the primary currency?” The president slammed his fist on the table again.
The new world bothered him.
It bothered many of the old men.
They no longer had the same power they and their fathers and grandfathers had once.
The spires ruled.
“You’ve been quiet.” The president pointed at the Secretary of Health and Human Services.
Unlike the rest, the old man was of a darker complexion.
“Sales across the board remain low. Too low for projections based on the size of the population. They don’t line up with recorded deaths. Granted, those numbers aren’t reliable the farther we move away from here and other better protected centers. This also includes admittance to hospitals for things like chronic illnesses and diseases. The best example I can give you is insulin. Manufacturers are having to slow down production to almost nothing. Their sales in terms of percentage of product is in the single digits. It doesn’t match the number of people that we have on record as requiring it. We’ve studied the impact of Skills and healing magic over the past year and determined that they alone don’t account for the discrepancies.”
“Pharmaceutical sales are also very low at our stores. It’s one of our constituents’ bigger complaints,” the Secretary of Treasury said. “I personally don’t get it. Those were the biggest money makers back in the old days.”
“Your numbers must be off,” the Secretary of Labor said. “Are you still comparing it to those old days? The world’s different. People are a lot fitter and healthier now. Skills develop alongside challenges. If someone with diabetes survives long enough I’d imagine they get rewarded with something like a free insulin injection Skill. Or an alchemist came up with a cure and he’s keeping it quiet. Maybe a mage got a cure diabetes spell?”
“We've cracked down on a few garage chemists, but nowhere near the number to account for this issue,” the Secretary of Homeland Security said. “And if we find a mage that can do that then we can have a word.”
“A handful of people did gain Skills to fight off their diseases, however, again, not enough to account for such low sales. And they can only help themselves, not others,” the Secretary of Health and Human Services.
“Then it just might be over for the pharmaceutical industry,” the Secretary of Labor said. “It’s time to get out. My dad always said that you didn’t want to be the last one holding the bag when the company went under.”
“I agree, but they don’t and they’ll try to hang on until the bitter end,” the Secretary of Health and Human Services said.
“That sounds like a headache in the making,” the president said, “for the next guy. Let’s keep this moving.”
The meeting dragged on for several more hours.
Which was fine for Kerkestis. Unlike the inferior human mind, she could hold multiple lines of thought. So, as she listened, she was able to review several of her many plans.