“Seth?”
“…”
“Seth?”
“…”
“Seth!”
A hand grasped his shoulder and spun him about. It belonged to a huge bear of a man, with red skin and glowing coals for eyes. His dark hair stood at an impossible angle from his head, and the outline of a thin gold circlet could be seen through gaps in it. As he spoke, he could see his teeth were filed to points.
*These guys are just trying a little too hard. And what’s worse, failing. Badly.*
They must have tried for an intimidating devil-like appearance, but all it did was evoke thoughts of an over-stuffed sausage with horns and funny hairdo.
“SETH!” Finally, the voice betrayed hints of impatience and the faint promise of violence.
“What?” Seth spit out, narrowing his eyes.
“You must choose your starting race.” A frustrated huff of air widened the overstuffed sausage devil’s nostrils. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. You have to remember, though, that your previous life is effectively gone. C’mon buddy, work with me here. Michael Lee’s gone bye bye. Poof. Kaput! You are no longer a citizen of the United American Federation, and all vital records have gone adios. Basically, Michael Lee never even existed. Aw well, who cares, right? I mean, you’re an F-lister. Dunno what you did out there, but if you volunteered, it can’t have been any..”
“Snooping in my personal files?” Michael interrupted coldly.
A few years after the Great War, slavery had been abolished, and the ranks of the citizenry had been reorganized, ranging from D, the lowest, to S, the highest. F-listers were people who had effectively surrendered their freedom and their rights to the Federation. Officially, they did not even exist.
“Ah, well, it’s part of my job.” Sausage-guy shrugged unapologetically. “Hey, listen, the point is.. well, the point is, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Your name is now Seth, and this is your chance to live out your darkest fantasies and fulfill your wildest dreams in the promised land, the holy guacamole, the whole enchilada.. Aeterna!”
The whole motivational speech would have been far more convincing without the matted blood staining overstuffed devil-guy’s chin. It certainly could have done without his hand constantly wandering under his pants to scratch away at some persistent itch - hopefully nothing contagious. Did they code that in somehow, a corner of Michael’s mind wondered idly.
Realizing he would not get the reaction he was hoping for, devil guy slowly deflated, and his hands spread out in silent acquiescence.
Then he crossed his arms belligerently as he glared down at Michael. “Hey, look. I don’t really care what you did or why you’re here. All I need to do is get you started. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner I get to herd another of you non-coms through the rotating doors and out of my hair.”
Non-coms. This guy was just an endless parade of derogatory terms, wasn’t he? Michael would like to see him call anyone a non-com to his face out there in the real world. Even odds that he’d get beaten, stabbed or worse, sold off to become a non-com himself.
Michael’s expression darkened as he recalled what the term really meant. Most thought they knew, but very few actually did. They would have had to have been there, experienced it.
The Great War.
The Great War had pitted evenly matched world powers against one another, inevitably drawing every nation on Earth into the conflict. It had been mercifully short, and spectacularly brutal. When nuclear weapons of mass destruction had been ruled out by the fear of mutually assured destruction and, well, being crowned as the winner of a heap of nuclear ashes, the great and wise leaders of the world had instead turned to the new flavor of the millennium.
Bio-chemical warfare.
With zero collateral damage to existing infrastructure and high lethality to all hostile populations, they had carelessly sprayed and splashed about in the deadliest viral concoctions known to man. As a result, the Great War, which had been predicted by all experts to last for well over 20 years, had instead lasted exactly 295 days. This was the exact lifespan of the longest-lived of all the pathological agents unleashed. When all was said and done, 97.4% of the world population had been culled.
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Of course, the figures did little to describe the horrors of watching all the people you’ve ever known and loved slowly melt and turn into puddles of oozing meat pulsing crimson with ever-slowing frequency, until at last - perhaps mercifully so - they finally ceased to be. It was far better than the alternative. Sometimes the pulsing never stopped, and people lived caged in a prison of flesh that refused to function except to draw one torturous breath after another.
The resulting trauma, whether physical or psychological, left a vast majority of the survivors unable to carry out normal human functions. These were the non-coms. Non-conforming individuals who could not adapt to modern society. The resulting debacle was that of a pristine Earth, suddenly overflowing with resources and infrastructure, but sorely lacking the human will to drive it forward. Artificial Intelligence could fill the gaps at the lowest level of labor, but any task requiring the slightest level of autonomy or complexity was hopelessly out of reach for current AI technologies.
This was solved by the passing of the highly controversial, and even more acclaimed, Non-conformity Response Act, also known as NCRA. It basically authorized the “readjustment” of non-conforming individuals to act as the engines quenching the desperate need for highly sophisticated AI. Simply put, they forcibly removed you from your family, friends, and former life - and inserted you into one of millions of AI Matrix cells. Inside these vast neural network complexes, mechanisms to feed nutrients and the disposal of waste material were attached, and highly sophisticated neural connections were patched directly into the cerebral cortex.
Humans are said to use under 10% of their cerebral capacity throughout their whole lifespan. What would happen if that untapped 90% were to be fully utilized for other purposes?
This was the principle behind the NCRA. Factories, farms, hospitals, schools, restaurants.. they could be operated by AI enriched through non-coms plugged into them. It saved the human race from slowly reverting back into the stone age.
Of course, mass protests took place, clamoring for the rights of the non-coms. However, along with the NCRA an incentive program was developed. It was code-named the “Deus Project”. Unveiled along with the passage of the NCRA, it was the unveiling of a virtual reality realm to far outstrip the most ambitious VR programs to date.
Near limitless funds and the greatest minds of the age were combined to create Aeterna, a virtual realm of fantasy and adventure where non-coms were allowed free rein. It was hailed as the best possible treatment for people who, due to either emotional, psychological or physical trauma, were unable to function normally in society. Instead, their memories were purged and they were inserted into Aeterna to seek their fates and live out their fantasies while their bodies rotted inside simulation pods and their brains were wrung out of all their humanity. To Michael, it was ironic that the name of the program was the “Deus Project”, or “God Project”. Purportedly, the ultimate goal of every non-com was to be reborn as a deity and reign over Aeterna as a member of an immortal pantheon.
Pitiful worms striving to become the king worm inside a can of crap.
And now, Michael.. no, Seth had been forced to become one of them. Well, if he was to become a worm, he would become the worm to devour all worms. He would not become just any god. He would become the God to end all gods. The Last God.
*I will have my revenge.*
Seth’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he growled his final acceptance of his fate.
“Fine, lets get this crap over with.”
Suffice to say, sausage-devil was delighted.
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