It took him twenty more minutes to do it, as he pontificated over details in the same way as someone doing a long book report or writing assignment. He marked off things with a line through them, swore a few times, and then crossed off a whole paragraph as he went through the computer's files and his own handiwork, with an efficiency I imagine I could summon up if I really had to. During that time, I felt rage build up inside me. 'Go away, Rage.', I told it inside my head. 'You're not needed now. You can't help me. Getting pissed off is not going to get me out of here.' That's what the burrowing was. Digging, as if an oil well, for the rage within. But hatred means nothing here. It did not reply. It only started to seize me- seize me in its fierce grasp, like a fist of frozen stone. I found I was near-paralyzed with fury. I wanted to kill- not just Howard, but whoever let him in his position. For he didn't get here by himself. Someone- several someones- had to help him, and I wanted to kill them all.

"Billy, wake up.", Howard said, shortly after he finished his work, detailing the finer points of world-controlling bureaucracy.

"I am awake." I realized how monotonous my voice sounded. I sounded like a robot. I did not show anger. I just spoke in a steady, unchanging voice. He'd probably just laugh if I got pissed... of course, it's emanating from me and he probably knows it anyway. I'd know it, and he's me.

That pisses me off more than anything else. What the fuck is wrong with these people to do something like that? Did they sit down with one of them saying, 'Hmm, what's the most evil thing we can do? Control.. yes, control. But let's have them- twins!!', with the rest of them applauding? Well, guys, if it's ratings you want, you got em. I give you a 10 for the idea, a 10 for execution, and a 10 for overall implementation, style, and performance. Now let me out of here, okay? Of course they won't.. and they can't let me go, not now. I have a death certificate. Billy Bohecker is dead meat.. and I can see all the assholes at school, all the teachers, saying 'Gee, Billy's dead, he was so strange-looking, too.. oh well, class, today we finally learn how to spell our own names.' Well, Mrs. Bitch, screw you hard and in the ass. Didn't you know I was world-controlling material? Damn it all.. I figure it would have been much better for everyone concerned if I simply grew up with him, but noo.. they had to give him his world-exposed servant.

"Billy, are you still sane?", Howard asked. Am I? Technically, yes.. I haven't gone off the deep end.

"Yes, Howard.", I found myself answering in the monotone again. Instead of looking at myself to see what was causing the rage- which should be fairly obvious- I looked at the rage itself. It was a primal rage, an anger that transcended the self. I had hate. But I knew that giving in to the hate would gain me literally nothing- there's no one I can kill, that's the fact of it. And maybe there is no way out, or a way I haven't even remotely considered, or a way that hasn't made itself available to me yet. I prefer the third option. It keeps the opportunism flowing while admitting the naked truth- that there was no immediate way out and that I just can not even begin to break his commands at all. So I turned to the rage and told it to seal its pie hole firmly shut, using it against itself, trying to clear my mind to look for opportunities that would not present themselves any time soon.

"Billy, have you really lost something up there or are you only pretending to act like a machine?", he asked. Well, I have to pretend, because his command also makes sure that my words are intelligible, and if I let go of the mechanical voice, my words would come out as unintelligible primate slobber-speak. Also, I subconsciously knew, if I let this rage take any of my physical faculties, I literally would go crazy, and he'd eventually just chuck me into a meatgrinder or something.

"Pretending."

"Why?"

"Because if I allow my soul to resurface, I'll go insane."

He did the unexpected. He put his arm around me, hugging me a bit, and said, "Billy, I severely doubt you can make yourself stay this way for a couple of days, much less a couple of millennia. And believe me on this one, you're not going to go any more insane than you already have." Maybe he's right.. I'm exaggerating because this whole situation is exaggerated. And he's even more right by saying that I can't stay like this. But I know that I'm really starting to lose it. Maybe reality will come back to me in a new form, with different clothes, replacing its old appearance with a new one.. given the disparity between my current situation and the one I used to live in, that's probably going to happen. New situations require new thinking, and I can never be the same. So maybe I'm just disassembling for the time, and going to come back a new Billy.. yes, that would be nice, because then the pain and the rage would end. That'll happen anyway... I can adapt.. even to this, I can adapt, and he's smart, so he'll give me the materials (information, mostly) I'll need to adapt with and the time I'll need to adapt in. He's cold, calculating, nice, and happy. Exactly what I'd be if I had the position... wait, that does make a good deal of sense, doesn't it.

"I guess I'll end up joining the Mad Hatter for tea after all... but I never heard of Alice getting thrown down the rabbit hole by five bodybuilders in the middle of the night." It was somewhat humorous, but even I didn't find it funny after I said it.

"Oh.. the Enforcers? Oh yeah, those guys do just about everything. Muscles, training, implants. No personalities at all. They're like normal special forces agents, only they're a lot smarter, stronger, faster, and kick more ass." Ah. Who needs regular servants when you can have effective robots? Hmm, that means he'll be using them instead of me for certain things...

"They're basically lobotomized, Billy. Born without souls.", Sarah said.

"Sounds like my old gym teacher...", I said without thinking. Howard laughed, and pressed a button under the seat. Immediately, a long footrest came up, and the chairs reclined slightly. He fidgeted a bit, then did something more unexpected- he threw the weapon out of his coat (whatever it was) and laid down on top of us, his head in Sarah's lap and his feet on my chest. Why does it fucking figure that he'd use me as a footrest.. then, he sat up, pressed another button, and a screen like the one he has in his living room swung together from the sides of the plane, the halves becoming a whole (I've never seen a monitor of any sort swing together before, either..), and he pulled up windows of all sorts in it, finding what he was looking for.


*LEVEL THREE INFORMATION ONLY*

Type: Weapon Name: Micro-2025

Last updated: 4/1/98

Development source: I In use by: limited I Public Release Time (est.): 2025

Development cost: approx. 44 MU Production cost: approx. 170 KU ea. (I'll have to ask Howard what a U is..)

(history, history, who cares.. but it looks like these guys have a long line of superweapons they've never shown the public.)

Fusion-based weapon may release up to 500 Mcal/sec, for an indefinite period of time, in a variable-size beam of high wavelength energy.

Restrictions: The Micro-2025 may overheat. Its internal components must not be allowed to reach temperatures over 300\'ba C, which it may achieve after one minute of regular use at room temperature (27\'ba C). A heatsink is in production; approx. release date 12/1/98

Ammunition/Energy Source: Hydrogen hydroxide (HOH); other non-acidic hydrogen sources usable

Operating life: 5 years, regardless of use, at which point the fission "pilot light" becomes inactive. (Fission pilot light? Hmm.)

Training required: none, other than that on very powerful weapons.

Wait.. Hydrogen hydroxide? HOH?! That's the same as H2O - which would make this thing run on fucking water!! That figures... it just takes the hydrogen and makes it into helium through the process of fusion, throwing the oxygen away. Making this thing run on an indirect conversion of matter to energy. Which makes five hundred fucking mega calories a second not so unreachable.. I stared at the weapon in shock. Yeah, that's it all right, the same thing that Howard had so carelessly chucked on the floor.. oh, it's not going to go off on its own, the Illuminati design better than that. But the way he chucks that kind of power around... oh man. I realized that if I owned something like that, I would treat it with the greatest of reverence.. but he's much more used to power than I am, which should be fucking obvious by now.

Howard then yawned, as if to punctuate that point. "Billy, what was it like going to school, anyway?", he asked in a completely curious tone.

Needless to say, I told him the truth. "It fucking sucked. We sat around all day slowly pretending to learn crap it would have taken me one minute to figure out on my own. And the rules were such gay shit. What a fucking waste of time. Howard, if you control the world, can you tell me why the hell does it have to be so damn boring?"

I didn't actually expect him to answer me, but he did. "Billy, do you really think any of us want the masses to learn quickly? If they learned quickly, we wouldn't be able to keep them in there as many years as we need, or we'd have to teach them more. And then we wouldn't be able to do the college shuffle with them, keeping them working hard doing the repetitive things to even get into college, doing the things they need to practice to be good employees in the future. Oh yeah, we teach em the intellectual stuff they'll need to actually do their jobs in college, but as for that repetitive mentality to keep em working an eight hour, five day week for years on end with a few vacations? All in the public schools. Not to mention, intelligent and educated people who don't believe in the system are so much fucking harder to control than their stupid counterparts. So it has to be boring." That makes perfect sense, Howie... perfect sense. It's not for us to be educated, it's for them (assuming I'm still one of 'us' and not one of 'them'), to keep the sheeple in line. And, logically, all other social programs are the same way; not for our purposes, but for theirs. Of course it is.. when they're through throwing us bones, they get down to business. The business being, of course, stupefying the people so that they can't fight back. Good job, guys. No fucking wonder I thought those assignments were a waste of time... they are exactly that, an intentional waste of time, time that he's obviously used to actually improve his education. Forget mere genetics.. genetics plus education make the intelligence gap even wider. And now I know why they can make him the ruler of the world so young.. that, too, makes perfect sense. As my brain realized that things, in fact, were not so crazy as I perceived them to be, I calmed down. Good. Get rid of some of this fucking anxiety, it's not helping me any.

"And you have ways of controlling people who see through some of it, of course.", I replied.

"Naturally. Seldom with implants, although sometimes for their technical skill if they have it. Usually, we just kill them."

"Which is where she comes in." Sarah chuckled darkly at my comment.

"Only in emergencies.", Howard said. "Like I said, we need to let em believe they're free. So far, anyway."

"Yeah.. so far.", I muttered. So far until they decide the time is right to start kicking ass and computerizing names. Howard doesn't really care how long that'll take. It might take decades or it might happen this month. Who gives a shit? He's immortal... he can wait. And he'll have me waiting right beside him... fuck a duck.