“Have they proceeded to the final volcano?” Like the sound of a hot wind blowing over a bone-dry desert, the voice breathed out its question.

“They did, that fool thinks we are using the heat to power a gigantic refrigerator. ” The amorphous black mass of Crude shifted back and forth, filling the voids in the blasted concrete floor.

“Do not underestimate the power of human stupidity,” the voice breathed again. Crude spun around the space, attempting to fix the source.

“Oh, believe me. I don’t. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t be here.” Crude stepped back and lifted up a pseudopod, from it sprouted all manner of refuse. The flotsam and jetsam of human society spewed out like a boiling geyser blasting through a landfill. Some of it metals, some paper, most of it plastic and oil.

“They have always decided that quicker was better, they never could wait for something, or study the path that was before them. They don’t know the monster they created,” the voice said, its sound bouncing off the concrete walls of the parking garage that Crude was standing in.

Crude pulled all the garbage back into its body with a sickening sucking sound. “What would you have me do now? Chillwave and Snowstorm are going to make their move on The Foolish Felines. While we can use the distraction, they might succeed.”

The voice laughed, like the expulsion of steam from a locomotive. It gained in intensity, which would have been deafening to anyone with ears eavesdropping on their conversation. As quickly as the laugh started, it ended. “Let them try. Those cold misers will not be able to stop them. They serve me another purpose; once they have bumbled around enough human society will be convinced that the planet is cooling off, then they will think nothing of pumping greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere.”

“What happens when it stops cooling? What then?” Crude asked.

“Then it will already be too late for them to do anything about it, we will have been working long and hard enough that we will start to run away with the planet. They will show their true stupidity and be unable to stop us while they blame each other.”

“They are good at that. Look what they did with the ‘Crying Indian.’ Ha ha…. Ha... ”

“Yes. Yes, that was an inspired piece of propaganda, and they came up with that themselves. Some of their best ‘ad men’ have continued to pull the wool over the eyes of the people,” the voice softened to almost a whisper.

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Car tires squealed in the distance, and the sound of an engine echoed off the walls of the garage.

“Master, they are coming, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Thank you, Crude. You are thoughtful and loyal. My work is done here anyway. Return to Centralia when you are done here, my friend,” the voice said, growing fainter with each word.

“I will.”

The car turned and headed down the ramp to the lowest level of the parking garage, and right at Crude. In a flash, it pulled its mass together into a solid form. Plastic oozed out and coalesced around him, and in moments the black mass now resembled a man in a trench coat and fedora. Its face was hidden under the hat.

The car stopped in front of Crude, its bright light casting a dark shadow on the far wall, showing a ghosty image of the amorphous mass.

Doors opened on either side of the car, and two men stepped out, slamming the doors heavily. The engine, a V8, throbbed.

“Mr. Edurc, it’s good to see you again,” the first man, who stepped out of the driver’s door, said.

Crude reached his black-gloved hand up to the brim of the fedora and touched it; he bowed slightly as he did.

“It has been, Senator. I trust your tour of the refinery in Elizabeth went well?” Crude’s voice was smooth and without heavy breathing or bubbling.

“Absolutely, it was everything you said it would be. The oil we are importing from Canada can be processed right away and sold. Someday we will overtake OPEC as the world’s largest petroleum supplier.” The senator beamed.

“Good, I am glad to hear it, sir. Is there anything else you need from me at this time?” Crude asked.

“Some of my constituents,” the senator began, “have mentioned something called… global warming? A paper some scientists wrote, saying that we could be warming the planet up in the future. Do you know what this means?” The senator looked at crude, concern in his eyes.

“Think nothing of that. It snowed last winter, didn’t it? A lot. You know those scientists, how often are they right? Egg-headed number crunchers. They know nothing,” Crude explained.

The senator raised an eyebrow. “Scientists gave us the atomic bomb, the space program, and plastics. I don’t think they are that ignorant Mr. Edurc.”

Crude paused for half a beat longer than usual, then spoke. “They have an agenda, all scientists do. It’s how they get money for funding. I assure you, no one will listen to them. Did you get the package I sent you?”

The senator nodded emphatically, accompanied by the other person. “My wife loved them, but wherever did you get diamonds of that size?”

“Volcanoes, they are everywhere. Someday I will explain what kimberlite is.”

Another car squeaked in the distance, and the senator looked toward the front of the parking deck. “I’d better get going,” he said then stepped up to the door. The other person jumped in and closed it behind him.

“Good luck on the election!” Crude said, holding his gloved hand up.

The senator nodded from the front seat of the car, then promptly put it in reverse and pulled out of the level of the deck.

“Fools.” Crude relaxed, and the trench-coated form dissolved into the black, amorphous mass. “Fools,” he repeated.