Even at a leisurely mach 1.7, Howard's jet far outpaces Jeremy's helicopter. Howard had things to do anyway, and did them both in the jet and on the big screen- allocate resources, decide what stuff of Dave's was worth taking (so much of it, like that cult shit, was marked for toast-dom). It's a careful balance of power. Howard can't be seen as playing any favorites- and indeed he wasn't, allocating by need and usefulness instead of names, and Jeremy got none of it- and the Levels could agree to distribute the resources some other way if they really wanted. But Howard's still the Dominator, and just by reading them I knew that his resource allocations would be accepted.

In a couple of hours, Jeremy and Joey arrived with a whup-whup-whup of helicopter blades, Howard having told the Enforcers in advance that they were cleared to land.

I didn't miss the similarities between their visit and Damien and Paul's, the key differences being that Jeremy was younger, weaker in the Illuminati, and much smarter than Damien- and also has the advantage of not being an asshole (I can't blame him at all for what he did to Dave). I wanted to talk to Joey without having to worry about commands on him in the middle of it, so I beckoned him upstairs to my room. Howard and Jeremy let us go; they wanted to talk to each other anyway.

Even though it was theoretically designed for one occupant, three people didn't make my room appear crowded at all. He looked at Paul, then at me- and he was looking for something to say to me, but he couldn't even find an idea to put words to, let alone the words to say one with.

"Billy..", he eventually sputtered out.

"Yeah?"

"I still don't get something. How the hell can.. you and him.."

"Well, 'how' is easy, they just put me as a normal for ten years until they pick me up again. The question you probably mean is 'why', and, if you didn't know, it was at the whim of the Day Operator of Northberg when he found two cells instead of one." After I said it, I realized what that knowledge made public might do to some of Howard's reputation, but he didn't consider it a real secret.. and besides, everyone knows what his reputation is really based on. Personal mudslinging and allusions to freakdom are simply not advisable when dealing with someone who is perfectly capable and willing to firmly kick your ass and carve your headstone.

"That's just fucked up. So you're...", he said, looking in Paul's direction.

"Paul Smith."

"And you're Billy.." 'Well, yes, I'm Billy', I was about to say, until I realized he was looking for my last name. Oh shit. What is my last name?! How the hell could I have forgotten, and how can I remember.. oh yeah, I wrote it on school papers all the time.

"Bohecker.", I replied, my fast thinking saving me the embarrassment of being seen to forget my own last name. That would, after all, be pretty pathetic.

"Joseph Freeman.", he said, slightly gesturing to himself. I found myself involuntarily cracking a smile and Paul broke out in a grin. "DON'T say it! I've already thought up all the jokes and none of em are funny." Paul was biting his lip with a grin, and I looked at him, wondering if Paul could resist. Actually, Joey was wrong- given time, the plot of Half-Life, and the technological insanity of Illuminated society, I could probably crack a couple solid Freeman jokes without resorting to the obvious.

"Oh, all right. Joey.", Paul said. "They're in bad taste anyway. So how did you get here?" Oh, yeah, I didn't tell Paul about that.

"Jeremy's my friend." For Jeremy to say that about Joey is Howardian. For Joey to say that about Jeremy is insane!

"Pff-WHAT?!", Paul exploded, as I said with forced echo, "Some fucking friend!"

"Joey..", I continued, "it's been said before and it is something of a cliche, but for general principle's sake, I'm going to say it again. With friends like those..."

"...who needs enemies.", Paul finished.

"Well, I don't have any enemies that mean anything to me anymore, remember?", he replied. He has a point. Even Eric and Dylan knew that tattling children can do little against shotguns.

"There is that.", I acknowledged.

"So how'd you get into this mess?", he asked Paul.

"I knew too much about Billy. The abilities and all that. I said the wrong things to too many people and ended up.. well, not here, I had that shithead Damien.. I won't tell details, don't want to get into it."

"Urgh, yeah, I read Damien's profile.. also I read about what happened to him." He laughed a bit. "That guy had it so fucking coming, too. You got lucky."

"Isn't there anything more pleasant to talk about?", Paul asked.

"Paul, where are we?", I asked rhetorically, reminding him that the topical subjects happen to be some of the ugliest possible.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Yeah, there is.", Joey said. "There's a new movie comin out, Illuminati-produced, Illuminati viewers only. It's called The Nights."

"Nights of what?", Paul asked.

"Well, let's just say they have a different sense of honor than most of the traditional ones." Huh? That didn't make sense. I ran that through my head, Paul seemed to get it.. Ah. The Knights, not The Nights. There's a new one.. the Illuminated version of a fantasy movie.

I'm almost afraid to ask... but I might as well anyway. "What's it about?"

"A really badass film. War, chivalry, women, the works. Chauvinistic as hell. They're not fighting for honor; they're fighting for land, basically. And no, it's not a power and control movie.. it's more like a really nasty version of King Arthur, only with different magic and definitely better-developed characters."

"You know about the characters? You've ruined it for yourself.", I said. Paul nodded and looked as if he was about to say something very similar.

"I know! I know! It's all CGI, though. One hundred percent computers and a lotta special effects. Remember, these guys got time on their hands." Oh, hell yes. Every piece of Illuminated technology or creativity I've seen so far has been optimized, balanced, and retouched to the point of insanity. And it stands to reason that normal media simply cannot produce Illuminated fare.

"No shit.", said Paul. "No restrictions on content either. Something tells me more than one 'fair maiden' is going to be.. ah, devirginized.. what was that..?"

"Deflowered is probably what you mean.", I told him.

"Yeah. Deflowered. Fucked."

"Sex and violence.", remarked Joey. "Even up here, the basic desires are the same. Sex and violence." I started laughing, and Paul joined in.

"No shit!", I exclaimed through my laughter. "You have no idea, do you. You're right, sex and violence are natural human desires. These people get what they want. I leave the logic to you."

"Already figured it out, my friend, already figured it out. That's the thing with this place.. everything kicks so much ass."

"With a couple of obvious exceptions..." said Paul with a sigh, "but like I said, I don't want to get into it. So what got Jeremy into this place anyway? I thought they'd be breeding everybody by now."

"Recruitment continues. Jeremy's a fucking MacGyver, Paul. The only reason he didn't use his problem-solving ability in that last raid was because you had complete overwhelming force on your side. He told me they took a sample of his blood and a.. what was that.. encephalogram to find out what makes him so good."

"Which means that he's.. no, that if that part of him were integrated with the existing DNA, the result would be even better than what they have.", I said. The best they have is presumably a slightly enhanced version of us, that they never produced.

"Possibly.", Joey said. "Intelligence and DNA.. you know it's a tough nut to crack. But they did say they're sure it's genetic and it goes beyond environment."

"Damn. How'd they find it out?", Paul asked.

"He got lucky. They heard reports from one of their randomly-placed agents.. a teacher, I believe.. went to his house, and gave him what looked to be an IQ test. Now, usually- I looked this stuff up- it's the side questions they ask.. like 'how are you doing in school' and then they get into that and see if the prospect understands human nature and has the capacity for real loyalty, et cetera, and the IQ test just becomes.." He searched his head for the word. "superfluous. But they decided to have some super-hard questions on there just to see.. turns out Jeremy figured out how to build a complicated electrical system after they told him what a transistor did. He put the circuits right and everything. And of course he can at least marginally manipulate the masses.." There's an alliteration for ya. "so boom. They walk out, say they'll contact him later.. he disappears from his school one day with unknown people in a black car with a stolen license plate. Half the witnesses say he was dragged in.. and the other half say he stepped in voluntarily. This is going to sound weird, but I just always knew he wasn't hurt, that he really did want to go to where they were taking him.. I just thought I'd never see him again." He was smiling, apparently glad he did get to see him again after all. "The cops, of course, are always slow as hell. No one found his body.. gee, where could he be."

"And of course everyone's thinking 'pedophile' and assume he's in a ditch somewhere.", I replied.

"Of course. The parents had their suspicions, but the testers called up again asking for him, and of course they pretended not to know what happened. So what's left is a lot of half-thought suspicions, raised questions, ad nauseum.." Jeremy must have been giving Joey something of a literary education, or Joey was simply much smarter to begin with. Name me a public-schooled, normal twelve-year-old who can go on like this, for this long, with this size of a vocabulary. Of course, shock and fear make great teachers. "the parents track down the testing organization and find out it's just a recruiting station for MENSA members and their gifted and talented program. Since nothing like this has happened before in the area, it's reported in the newspaper in the crime section, quickly forgotten.. you know how it goes."

"They always do their jobs well.", said Paul. "Believe me, these guys always do their jobs well when it comes to secrecy."

"We're pros. Yes, I'm one of the guys doing spying."

"Who do you spy on and why, anyway?", I asked.

"I spy on everybody from thousands of miles away.", he said with some pride. "Wiretapping, mostly. 'Our enemies come from all walks of life.', they said a bunch of times. It's true, dude. I've only been here two days and I've found myself spying on everybody from some Russian mafias- they got executed like fish in a barrel, Jeremy was laughing his head off at that- to some butt burglars in Africa. Just one faction against another sort of thing, with maybe some guys who want to challenge us along the way."

"'Guys who want to challenge us', what?!", Paul asked. The look on my face certainly said the same.

"Oh, just idiots. You know all those television shows about guys trying to conquer the world through some local takeover? Silly, yeah, but sometimes they partially succeed with the local part. Doesn't happen very often, I haven't really seen anyone interested in taking down the current system whole. But those factions all wanted whatever kind of power we didn't want them to have."

"You sound like a fifth level.", I noted.

"I fucking should. Jeremy's been telling me everything." The way he said his friend's name denoted a certain amount of love.

"Guys, I don't know why, but I gotta get some sleep.", I told them. "If I wake up screaming, just ignore me."

"Wake up screaming?!", Joey asked incredulously.

"Yeah, he.." I didn't catch the rest of what Paul said because I passed out on the bed immediately.

"Hey, Billy. Get dressed, not a bladed suit, and come down. We're going to play some volleyball.", I was woken up with by Howard over the intercom. I was dressed from neck to toe (I hate sunlight) and down in two minutes.

"Why aren't you wearing your usual, anyway?", Sarah asked us as Howard and I stepped outside, where they had already set up a full volleyball court, with the poles spiked into the ground and the

"Because he doesn't want to tear open the ball if he ever punched it, remember?", Paul pointed out.

"Oh. Duh. Forgot about that." She wears her weapons all the time and never accidentally cuts anything open with them.

"Yeah, he'd spike the ball all right. Howard, why do you wear so much, anyway?", Jeremy asked.

"Jeremy, the Sun and I are not exactly on good terms. Although I do reflect a good deal of UV rays, being albino does leave me open to some of it. And although it does drastically shorten its effect time, regeneration does not protect from the pain of sunburn." I hear that. I'd play outside on a sunny day at recess, deal with burning eyes for a bit in class, and go home and peel off layers of skin. It was cloudy now, though.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. All right, simple version of the rules with no stupid shit. 7 foot 6 high net, 20 foot wide by 25 foot long playing squares, ya have to hit the ball (it can't come to rest on your hand), have to hit it over the net, one hit at a time per player, that means the same guy can't hit it twice in a row.. ahh.. three hits in a row per team, no intentionally touching the net, team members take turns doing serves, serves are done by the team that got the point, feet have to stay in bounds, play to 21 points, serves are done behind the back line..." He tried to keep going. "balls hitting the post are out, you can use any part of your body, and you have to hit the ball, not the players.", he said, grinning slightly. Howard chuckled a bit- there's no way he could accidentally smash Jeremy's head when spiking it over the net. "You know how to play, I assume?"

"Saw it a couple of times on TV." Although I've seen it on TV myself, I found it odd- us watching normals play sports is like watching a three-legged dog fetch the paper.

"All right.. teams?"

"I can't play for shit, Jeremy, remember?", Joey said.

"Oh, yeah. I remember. All right.. we should probably use Enforcers.", Jeremy said.

"I can already tell this is a height-based game. But.. hmm. All right." There was only one remotely balanced team conceivable. "Me, Paul, and Sarah against you, Billy, and an Enforcer."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking.", Jeremy replied.

"Billy, Sarah, Paul, you already know." Yep, we do. "Enforcer! Did you hear the rules being spoken?"

Like the antithesis of a normal cop, there's always an Enforcer around when you need one. "Yes, Howard."

"Follow them while playing on Jeremy's team, which you are now on. If you're unclear on any part of the rules, watch us and learn as you play." We were ready. Howard hit it first, aiming it directly to the middle of the court on our side, and then ran up to defend against what he knew would happen- I slammed it. He jumped up and put it into the air with a backhand, Sarah slammed it in the Enforcer's direction, which put it to me- I arced it above Howard's head, Paul hit it up, Howard put it to the back of our court, Jeremy managed to get it into the air, the Enforcer hit it to the left near Paul, who hit it out of bounds. Jeremy served it right to the middle of the court, I was expecting Howard to slam it as I had, but nope- he hit it into the air instead. Way up... way too far up. The wind got it and it landed far out of bounds, and all the sentients except Howard laughed. He swore, muttered, got the ball, and tossed it to the Enforcer, whose serve was exactly like Jeremy's in style.

As the clouds drifted away, back and forth the game went, engineereds hammering each other at the front and normals staying back to return the high-arced ones. It's exhausting, but that's part of the fun. Paul and Jeremy were hyperventilating, and we engineereds were simply breathing hard as we always do. The Enforcer had about a foot of height on Sarah, making them a fairly even match. The score went to 3-2 in our favor, my turn to serve this thing, so here you go- I hit it, Howard returned it close to the net, the Enforcer put it in the air... and then I rushed and jumped with a grin, slamming it down with folded hands, aiming for a spot of ground without any hominids near it. Whack-crack! Howard returned it with a solid punch.. sort of. The ball lay in two barely-connected pieces on our side of the court. Howard looked stunned for a second, then realized what had happened, and we all laughed. I've heard of baseballs being obliterated, but I've never seen a volleyball destroyed.

"Howard!! You killed the ball!", Jeremy said between laughs. "It's dead, dude! May it rest in peace- or is that pieces? Heh, heh.. I was worried about this. Joey, go get the other one."

"You predicted this, then.", Howard said, as Joey fetched the spare ball.

"Yeah, didn't want to use this other ball though, it's a little heavier. But it's reinforced, Illuminati style. You shouldn't be able to break this. All right, 3-2 still, do-over on account of destroyed ball." And we did it again, slamming the ball back and forth. Yup, it's not going to break no matter how much we try to kill it.

The next different thing to happen was when Jeremy tried to do exactly what I had, grinning and slamming the ball down with folded hands. Um, that's not going to work against Howie. For a moment I had a vision of Jeremy's head flying away, its place on his neck juxtaposed with the ball. Of course, that didn't happen, but Howard did send the ball flying into his hands with a smack, turning them red and unfolding them, and sending the ball into the air. The Enforcer whacked it hard and to the side, Paul got an arm on it, Sarah punted it into the air, and then Howard sent it crashing down directly at Jeremy's head. Fortunately for him, he got his palms on it, put it into the air, and the angle was such that I could send it into their court where neither Howard nor anyone else could get it.

"Damn, Jeremy, it's a good thing that thing's soft!", Paul said, rubbing his arm.

"Oh, of course, I knew it would be like this.", he said, opening and closing his hands, which must have hurt. "But I like it! You aren't pulling punches, are ya Howard?" Howard pulling punches?! It's a good thing he likes you, Jeremy, otherwise you might not want to have said that!

"Jeremy- am I known for pulling punches? It's just that I've never played this before." We continued whacking it back and forth. The Enforcer made a mistake, whacking it off the post. Sarah took Jeremy by surprise and tied it up, 10-10. The round after that, Howard and I got too close together with our whacks, and it was going to sit on my hand- I let it go, it rolled on the net, and Sarah smacked it- Jeremy got it this time, sending it back up to Paul, who happily and unexpectedly spiked it to the back-middle of our court. The Enforcer sent it to Sarah, who aggressively sent it to Jeremy again- this time he didn't make it and skidded into the grass trying to dive for it, his white Illuminatus clothes turning light green from the chlorophyll.

Similar, entertaining things happened until it went to 15-17, their lead. Howard expertly put it to the back, I popped it up, the Enforcer slammed it into a back corner of theirs (hey, it's getting good at this), Sarah got it, Howard slammed it, Jeremy managed to pop it up and set me up for the spike, then Sarah hit it and it went to the side of the Enforcer's head, who was moving and couldn't react.

The weird thing was when a similar situation happened next round and the Enforcer failed to react in the exact same way.

"That, gentlemen, is a bug.", Sarah said, sneering and pointing at it. Bug.. oh, she means technical bug.

"They better not have that problem in combat.", Jeremy said, shaking his head.

"Oh, it's that.. Yeah, I remember hearing about that. That shouldn't work in combat.. but Murphy's Law dictates that it probably does.", Howard said. Good. If we find ourselves in Enforcer combat again and we find a bug, and it's common among all Enforcers of that type, we can continuously exploit it like a normal hacker in a badly-programmed game. Better get the patches going, guys. The 15-19 lead they had over us cinched it- despite my repeat hammering, it ended in their favor 16-21. Jeremy was a bit better than Paul, being obviously somewhat experienced at the game, but the Enforcer's no match for Sarah.

"Well, Jeremy, I was thinking... how much of that was actually regulation?", Howard asked, grinning.

"All right, Howard, I admit. Both balls were softer, the court was a bit smaller, and the net wasn't quite so high as it is in regulation. And I bet you can figure out why." Heh, let's see.. other than the fact that it would hurt like hell if he did, there's no way in hell he could hope to react to engineered (or even strong normal) hits on a hard ball, he couldn't move far enough fast enough on a large court, and if that net was higher than his jumping height, he'd be completely unable to play any real offense.

Howard summed it up. "So that you'd actually get a chance to play without getting your ass too kicked." Jeremy smiled, laughed, and nodded. "I'm not surprised. I would have done the same." Our bodies hurt, but

Sigh. All that fun and we get to deal with an asshole when we go in. Howard turned on the screen, hoping to hear some sense from whoever was on the other end, and got some crap from one Jack Butcher instead. Butcher indeed- this lardass looks like he eats a pig every day with his normal metabolism. "How... dare... you.. you have disgraced your position... you... you've shot a messenger.." If the message is bullshit, the guy's not a 'messenger', he's what we call a 'liar', a 'useless scumbag', and 'Dominator bait'. "Howard, you can't just run us and control us by killing who you don't like!!" Isn't that what he's been doing this whole time? Damn, I'm glad Howard's doing this and not me. My eyes are starting to itch.

"Why not? It's worked so far.", Howard said, annoyed. Of course, his eyes are itching, too. Damn sun. "Did you even bother to find out what happened, or are you just annoying me for the fun and the suicide?" In this case, I'd have to say 'the suicide', definitely.

"You killed the man trying to save your life!!"

"Bullll...shit!", Howard said, grinning. I don't think the Illuminati have life insurance, but if they did, it would be a good time to cancel this guy's policy. "Now, I don't know what's going on with all you idiots trying to delude me, and I don't really care if you're all unified or separate. It really doesn't matter to me. I'll kill you all anyway. But, if you want me to spare this miserable life of yours, you'll tell me who's been letting these people in and why, and why you are trying to delude me as to who's trying to kill me. Dave had no place here. Several people I've met had no business in the Illuminati- they couldn't figure out a conspiracy if we all beat the shit out of them. Neither, I imagine, do you. Who let you in??" It's the $64,000 (x 10^6) question. Howard's force of threat broke the man's facade like a hammer on cheap glass.

"I... I... he swore he'd... it wasn't supposed to.. oh please Howard, spare me!" Not unless you give him a very, very good reason to. But, although Howard's realizing that someone else has designs of getting people he wants in there, it wasn't a direct answer.

"You will speak the truth or I will torture you to death.", Howard said, his way of getting hard evidence. Truth or dare? Nah. Truth or death? Sure, let's play.

"Howard... all right!! But I seek asylum for telling you what I will!" Loony bin asylum, maybe.

"Granted. Now speak!" Howard's telling him to speak like a normal would a dog, because this guy is Howard's bitch.

"His name is.. his name is McCough. A-Andrew McCough, he's a third level. Howard.. you weren't supposed to know." Um, asshole? He's Howard. Y'know, Dominator of the Illuminati? He knows. It's his job. "He started this when you started the tests." And here we thought nobody was going to try to do things to piss off the future Dominator then. Silly us. "What.. what he's trying to do is to promote people he wants into the ranks. He wants to have more power, more clout.. he even gave me the answers to some of the.. the questions." I smell death in Andrew's future. Or this guy's, if he's lying. Or both, even if he's telling the truth. Maybe we should beat their heads together and see whose breaks first. "Howard.. he thought.. he thinks.. that you won't notice it. He told me that, and I quote.. 'Nah, the Dominator isn't going to pay any attention to us, he's got his young head too into the clouds.. your position is secure.' That's what he said! Howard.. the reason for all the delusion.. and Dave's fake shit.. is because we've been committing one of the highest sins." 'Highest' would explain it. Don't conspire when on the bong. It doesn't work.

"Say it."

"We've had a conspiracy inside the conspiracy." I was half-expecting Howard to kill this guy and rip the information out of his computers right away, then go to other people and rip them apart and jump from place to place to place until they were all bloody carcasses. "Dave read you that list under Andrew's orders.. we had some proof of those guys talking... he didn't know that you had.. relationships with any of them.. those guys were getting in our way and rejecting our offers, making things harder." And now some guys (or maybe just one girl) are going to reject your lungs, making it harder for you to live. Howard started laughing.

"Hold up. This Andrew is a third level and he's trying this shit? What did he think, that Illuminati could just be pulled around like normal puppets?" Maybe he got confused and thought that Illuminated genetic normals were the equivalent of sheeple. "Now I'll be honest with you. I don't understand what's going on. All I've been getting is assorted obvious lies and lots of bullshit about guys trying to stab me in the back. I don't understand. What did Andrew hope to gain by this? He couldn't get power from a lot of fifth level idiots, people around him would figure it out sooner or later." How long would the Illuminati last if they let people invite just anyone to build their petty empires with? Sooner or later they'd get someone stupid enough to break secrecy, and there's only so much real control to be done in the world anyway. Trying to think of what Andrew had in mind is a pointless, headache-inducing experience, because it assumes that Andrew has a capable mind or it has anything in it. Just another dead dumbass. There was another slight buzz- someone's on hold.

"Howard.. the idea.. was eventual rebellion."

"Then he's dead. And you may remain a fifth level." Howard may or may not be lying- if he's not, I'm surprised. "But I want you to study, to become more than just a pawn. We are the Illuminati. The next time someone tries anything like this- you hear about it, see it, even if it looks like something small or just a couple of guys- you go directly to me."

"Yes, Master Howard. Th..thank you."

The next caller was Andrew McCough. What the hell? This better be good. He tried to stammer out a sentence, and I heard Paul humming Taps at low volume. This.. guy's dead... yes.. he is...

"It was lies!! All lies!! Howard, you can't believe a word he said! I didn't tell Dave to send you that list! I didn't invite people! I didn't do any of that! He's trying his own manipulative games! Howard, please!" What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck?

Howard actually bothered to tell him the reason this was bullshit. "Andrew, has anyone told you you're a fucking idiot? And that if you weren't listening in on him, you wouldn't have known what he said, and I don't think there's a reason for you to have bugs on him unless you're trying to control him? You can't listen in from my side, pal." Howard waited for an explanation; none was forthcoming. "I'm glad to meet you. It means that I can put an end to this annoying shit. Sarah!!" Get the shovel, we've got buryin' to do. Although I'm sure it doesn't mean much, I'm surprised Howard warned him.

"Yes, Howard?", she asked, a slight grin on her face, relishing the next command.

"He is still alive.", Howard said, calmly, and pointed to the red-flushed face of Andrew McCough. It's okay, it'll be devoid of blood soon enough. "That is a bad situation. Rectify it."

"Yes, Howard." She went upstairs to get her killing gear. He didn't want to bother going himself- we're tired and we just did a raid, after all. Let the professional handle it this time.

"NOOO!!! NOT HER!! NOT SARAH!! PLEASE, HOWARD, PLEASE..", the desperate man screamed. If this were a movie, this guy would get his Oscar nomination taken away for excessive melodrama. Howard answered his pleas by turning off the screen, blocking his calls, and sending the conversation to the public logs. Ah, yes. He warned him as a warning to everyone else. This one is going to get a lot of yuks among people who read it. Howard then completely removed the man's access to everything, preventing him from going out in a blaze of spite by breaking secrecy on a major scale.

"Howard, did anyone ever tell you you had a way of dealing with things that everyone envies?", Jeremy asked, awe in his voice.

"How so, Jeremy?"

"Well.. all right. Most people would have pointed out to others of us that something was wrong, and started something to expose what was going on. You.. you don't even care who's in their sub-conspiracy. Every time someone tries to lie to you... you just kill them." It makes an excellent precedent, doesn't it?

"Because I don't care, Jeremy.", Howard replied. "I really don't care. Human relationships come and go, especially among these idiots. They might be conspiring together one minute and having a power struggle the next. It's just my job to make sure that these bugs don't infest the greater scheme of things. In fact, I'm going to start some hard testing of every Illuminatus to make sure that they aren't involved in shit like this. A kind of cleanout, if you will. Although I will be discussing this with the first and second levels, you're invited to watch, and I want everyone's help making a plan." As he was saying that, Sarah came down the stairs wearing normal clothing over her assassin gear, carrying a large purse full of what I'm sure was folded-up equipment. As she looked interestingly beautiful in normal clothes, we all watched her leave.

The next few hours were spent brainstorming and developing ways to implement ideas, as we munched on snack foods. We can't regularly test- it'd be a pain in the ass- so we focused on initial tests that would mean more, would better weed out people. The thing was that the tests had already been developed, by people more experienced and willing to spend a lot more time than we were. So instead of reinventing the wheel, we simply tried to put a better tire on it. A lot of the tests were developed before various spying and technological innovations, and we (Paul and Joey were actually able to help) swiftly developed ways to use this. Before you get to be on the giving end of the serious spying, you have to be on the receiving end.

I wondered what a normal conspiracy buff would have thought of this intellectual labor, as if we were a bunch of preteen corporate leaders trying to hammer out a business plan. Well, of course it's difficult and time-consuming! Conspiracies don't just exist on their own, guys! Although it usually isn't done by the Dominator, it takes work! You need elbow grease, careful planning, and rigorous enforcement of certain rules (and sometimes judicious lax enforcement when you need to make exceptions) to be able to keep it running. Although we wouldn't be dealing with this particular problem if we were all engineered, there would still need to be lots of discussion and planning until the End of Secrecy- and more after that as the Illuminati start the direct management of the world. Although the attitude and methods are completely different, like a normal bureaucracy, the job of the conspiracy is to make sure the conspiracy exists tomorrow. I idly scratched my face with my gloved fingertips.

Loyalty, an absolutely necessary attribute (remember, it only takes one asshole breaking secrecy to ruin things), is always hard to test for. To become an Illuminatus, you usually have to be disloyal to something or other- freedom, your country, your loved ones, everything you've ever been taught, et cetera. Furthermore, Illuminati are supposed to be good at lying. What we tried to test for, then, were people who would be loyal to Howard and the organization while able to stab everyone else in the back. Courage was another thing- we need people bold enough to act on their own and make hard decisions, but not foolhardy enough to act against the Dominator. It's impossible to be perfect, but we can try anyway.

Of course, there was the issue of people being artificially helped, and Howard instituted careful logging of records and monitoring of recruits to put a stop to that shit. Sorry, fucktards, this organization won't belong to you simply because you can manipulate some lamers. It's Howard's organization, and he's going to keep it. You could have asked me- I would have told you that.

Eventually we finished it, turning it into a suitable object for Howard to present to the Illuminati. After a bit of thinking, he decided not to present it to anyone else- instead, he just sent it up as policy, and if they don't like it, they can complain. (Yeah, right.) Now that that was finished, I still had thoughts about the asshole who Sarah was out killing.

"I still don't get why he did something that would hurt him like that- did he really not know that he'd get found out sooner or later?", I asked, and my mouth moving kept making my skin itch.

"I don't understand it either, Billy. It's a silly thing to do. Damien was silly and now these guys are silly. I guess it's just a really bad case of overinflated ego and wishful thinking. Or maybe he has some psychological problem that the testing didn't catch. This goes beyond the thing with the Bastards. They had a plan. These guys..", he began, scratching his face. These guys don't have a plan, or their plan is so close to nonsense that they might as well not have one. And those guys with mass implanted servants..

"I'm glad you're starting these tests. Imagine if people like that got world implant power..", I said.

"People like that with a million implanted people. The blind leading the blind... no, worse than that. The stupid, dimwitted, and self-destructive leading the blind off a fucking cliff. I've told you before, this is my planet, and I'll eat shit if I'm going to let imbeciles like that wreck its people." Of course, Howard ultimately decides who 'its people' are, and who is cannon fodder. "I hope we just stop recruiting from the normal population. The kids who came over were..."

Compared to the idiots we've been talking about protecting the organization against, they were gods. "Quick, brilliant, understanding, and had control over their own egos, right, Howie?", I asked. They weren't all superior, and some of them were considerably better than others, but the difference was remarkable. They're kids- they don't have experience on their side. How much better will they be (and us, for that matter) when they do?

"Bingo. And they knew what they were doing. These guys don't know what they're doing. They're trying to play a role that they can't fill. They can't live it, they need to pretend it, and so they are destroyed by their own real selves. I wish they could just rise to the challenge, you know? They need to learn to accept that they're part of a greater whole, that we run the world, not just me, not just them, but that it takes more than one person to really have a handle on the chaos that is this planet." Howard, I noticed, is trying to strike a balance between being a micromanager and a figurehead, but finds that hard to do with retards. "But no, they need to play politics and ignore real problems. Their resource portfolios were in tatters.." My facial skin is in tatters. Were we really out there that long?

"Yeah, I saw that. Someone should have got them on that too. Howard.. why?", I asked.

"Why what?"

"The same question you're asking. Why are all these guys doing all this shit? Why would people in the best organization on the planet add people who would fuck it up, just to pretend they're cooler when they know what those people would do?" Howard wasn't able to answer, but I was ranting, and he didn't mind. "What the hell? Look, when I first got here, I got the impression that the eye in the pyramid was literally unstoppable. Now this shit? Yes. Make them all locally. Damn it-" Okay, this facial skin business is really starting to piss me off. I grabbed a corner of it and peeled; so did Howard. And I peeled, peeled.. peeled it all the way from the collar of my shirt to where the hair began on my head, and Howard had a similar shedding of skin, like we'd just peeled off plastic wrap.

Jeremy took the skin from Howard's hands and held it onto his face like a mask. "These guys don't know what they're doing!", he exclaimed in a very bad imitation of Howard's voice. After all that serious stuff, it was hilarious, and Joey, Paul, and I all cracked up.

Joey held out his hand and I put my shedded skin into it. "Now this shit? Yes. Make them all locally.", he said, holding my skin to his face. It was a different imitation that Jeremy's, but it was just as funny- Joey and Jeremy started giggling, and Howard started laughing with us.

"You guys- Jeremy, you- Damn!", he said, slight indignation peeking out from his laughter.

"Okay, now that you've taken advantage of our dense skin, can we go back to being serious?", I asked, laughing. I wanted to finish this shit.

Jeremy and Joey quietly pocketed our skin- I knew they'd play with it more later. Howard started talking seriously again. "Well, as much as I hate to admit it, these new ones are sheeple. They don't deserve the name Illuminati, they don't deserve anything, really, except bullets sent air-mail. The good thing about detecting them is that they usually work for the idiots who let them in, so we can get big clumps of them at once. The problem is, in this case, they sometimes start in a different place, and because we're supposed to be ubiquitous and unified, the people who initially contact them aren't written down on principle.." Not a thing changed in the plan.

"Yeah, and they get there through Illuminati swindling other ones, saying 'here, have this new recruit, you said you needed one..' when the recruit will just do the recruiter's bidding like a good nescient. I know that part. And I can also guess why this isn't usually a problem.", I replied.

"The same reason it's not going to be a problem now." Because Howard solves problems the violent way. Which is interesting..

"You know, thinking about it, I'm getting the impression that these guys are just put here for the three of us.", I said.

"Why's that?"

"Cannon fodder. Come on, Howard, you know how much a good- or even a bad- fight invigorates you. And when you just send her, she's almost licking her lips in anticipation of the pure slaughter."

"You know, you're right in that the meatgrinding is nice. It reaffirms my power, gives us all something to do, sends a message encouraging greater local creation.. there are benefits. But you know I'd much prefer it if the sheeple were kept out, which is why I am doing something about this. But another nice thing is, although there's lots of details, the principles aren't all that complicated."

"Thank God, like this place needs any more intrigue..", I said. I hate dealing with conflicts between normal asstards, and although he's been trained from birth in it and related subjects, so does he.

"Speaking of intrigue, one of the games I used to play a while ago and got sick of was expanded-board Illuminated Net Monopoly, with unseen players. Not only could you cut the plotting with a knife, you could also spoon it up and spread it on your bread. We're talking absolute free-for-all. I realized mid-game that two guys were in cahoots from the start, right? They're at each other's throats by the end. The trading is insane, and I learned something else about this organization. Not only do we plot for what we want, a lot of us also plot because there's plotting to be done, plotting for just the sheer sake of plotting." On a rational level, how could you expect much else from an organization that thrives on it?

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out. Howard, remember, this is the place that everyone thinks plotting is to be done. And so when they get here..."

"That is why, as much as I hate to admit it. I'm not sure how many of them really get it. Maybe they can't. The way to real Illumination is to ignore your preconceptions, quit going on stereotypes, and fuck, look around! Damn these people. Plot against the fucking.. oh, hell, you know all this shit, I'm ranting again." It's okay, Howie. So was I.

"You do that a lot."

"It could be worse. I could be doing it in Latin." He chuckled and I broke out laughing. He'd very literally sound like Caesar if he started doing that. "But I'm going to enjoy getting indignant and angry while I can."

"Because once they're all dead and the rest of them get the fucking hint, you'll be bored again."

He nodded. "In a way, I'm too good for this. It just makes me happy that we're engineering the brains for real jobs, like sheeple manipulation, even more genetic engineering, and better computers."

"Well, come on, you already know this, if they didn't have you, who else would they have to keep the idiocy in check?", I asked rhetorically.

"That is my purpose in life, isn't it." In a way, it's a big waste. If people didn't need a Dominator, wouldn't our brains be put to better use in advanced science of some sort? "To be a guard against something we shouldn't even be talking about. I always knew that I was making much less work for myself when I did certain things effectively, but I didn't actually consider phasing myself out."

"Howard, you won't be phased out.", I told him.

"How do you know?"

"Because if you do lack things to do, your own boredom will just catch up to you and the next thing I'll hear is 'Hey Billy, help me finish this guy's research.'"

Howard nodded. "Point taken. And I'm bored now." He had sent Sarah because he didn't feel like going, but he was probably wishing he hadn't.."I think I'm going to do some research and maybe later see about taking the axe to some of the new recruits if they can't toe the mark."

"Good, I can't wait.", I replied. Nothing like a gory massacre to get that good buzz going again.

The whole time, Jeremy, Joey, and Paul were quiet, listening to us. I wonder what Jeremy and Joey will really have to say about us on their flight home? Howard generally doesn't treat me like a slave, and similarly, I don't act like I'd separate his head from his body at the earliest available opportunity. Jeremy looks up to Howard- with good reason- and is probably going to imitate him in many ways.

Howard's research was on Andrew. He looked for evidence, there was no tracking the guys Andrew'd invited (no tracing of resources or manipulation on Andrew's public records, damn), and they were sure as hell not going to show themselves now. Actually, the guy was mostly smart, just did really stupid shit once in a while. He knew intentionally inviting inferior Illuminati was a capital crime (so many things are, here), he just thought he could get away with it. He had a superiority complex, which is beyond idiotic with Howard at the helm. He simply had no idea what he was really up against, and thought he could make it to the top. Now he's going to the bottom. Say hello to Satan for me, Andrew. Howard stopped doing research and decided to have some fun instead- hey, five computers in the house (the people who do Howard's upgrades don't give any thought to his guests), five people. FFAs with both me and Howard in them always end up with us at each other's throats; since we play to win and he would never command anything less than that, being the most powerful opponents, we go after each other rabidly in order to have any chance of winning.

The gaming was interrupted by Sarah reporting in from Andrew's computer; she'd killed him (he'd tried to stop her with various forces, but all she said was that she got a bigger gun), and the logs showed that it was indeed him who did the stupid shit, but he stored his contact information for his nescient Illuminati on a second computer and melted the hard drive before she got there. Why'd he have to be smart in doing that and stupid in other decisions?

Jeremy went to sleep on Howard's couch that night, and Joey slept on the carpet next to him.