It was two weeks into it, about 10 PM. The peasants, long since beaten down and debased, were allowed to sleep now. I had completed the daily intellectual problem, had done all the calorie-killing physical exercise, and I, too, should be sleeping, recharging my underloaded batteries- but I'm not. Hanging upside down from a large tree, fifteen meters above the ground on a thick branch, in near-absolute darkness, hearing nothing but the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, definitely does wonders for your mind. And the suit definitely helps against chafing of skin by tree bark.

I once more thanked my luck that whoever designed this little test completely forgot the presence of a rainforest with fruit-bearing trees- which were running out. The island becomes very, very small when you start drawing resources from it. And the farmland was getting smaller and smaller- the planting had ended three days ago. Now it was time to harvest the rest of it, rationing the last of the food (my stomach rumbled at the word) then finally I can become the fucking Dominator and prove myself to these fuckers once and for all.

Or maybe not. I still had two more fucking tests. Ugh, fucking ugh, and more ugh. Damn it. Which one of those assholes designed this fucking test anyway? Probably the Bastard... but from all the assorted untruths Daddy's told me for a while, I imagine the "self-sufficiency" bullshit was part of the design specification. Probably along the lines of 'Here, do what you want with the tests, but include this.'

I heard a very, very slight snapping of branches below me- not the sound of a pig, but the sound of a person moving. Sigh. One of my covert ops guys had something down here to do, but even with my powerful hearing, I'm fifteen fucking meters up. Get with the program, you asshole, there is such a thing as stealth! "Okay, which one of you is it?", I called down into the darkness.

"It's me, Billy.", my young voice called from below.

"Billy.. what the fuck are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep and figured a walk would help."

"Get up here." I heard the faint creaking of branches and rustling of leaves as the black-clad Billy steadily made his way up by touch and moonlight, climbing up to sit on the branch where I hung. The addition of weight didn't make the branch yield a bit.

"Howard, are you upside down?"

"Yeah. And so are you, right next to me.", I commanded when making space for him. He flipped over with our usual deftness, swinging slightly on his knees. He let out a huge yawn, and through the darkness I saw him let his arms hang down, his lengthening hair blowing in the light breeze. If he was wearing normals' clothing, his navel would definitely be exposed.

He sighed. "This starvation fucking sucks.", he muttered as his head gradually filled with the same amount of blood mine contained.

"Yeah, really. 'Hey Howard, you're going to be Dominator now! Oh, wait, you've got all this pointless shit to do first!'", I said in a sarcastically nasal tone. "Right. Like four weeks of having to whip spics to get food is going to make the tiniest fucking bit of difference. At least they didn't think about the rainforest and the pigs."

"Yeah.. Hey, Howard, why are we hanging upside down anyway?"

"The ceiling's down there, and the floor's alllllll the way up there. Puts a new perspective on things. Everything looks so.. different upside down, ya know?"

"Yeah, but it's dark out here. I can barely see anything. If it wasn't for the breeze, we might as well be inside where it's warm."

"But we're not. And you were walking around out here anyway."

"Yeah, I know. Didn't expect to find you out here though.", he said as it began to drizzle. The constant clouds blocked out the moon and it became totally black. The generic feeling of mystery and semi-excitement caused by darkness and rain filled me, and I was tempted to sleep out here with him- but I know I couldn't. Not with him and his nightmares. Being woken up by your own voice screaming in terror is simply not pleasant, and unless I want to gag him (I still can't imagine actually doing that), he has to sleep in the soundproof room. Besides, my legs might cramp up. And I'd wake up drenched.

"Well, here I am.", I said, and said something else I've been meaning to talk to him about. "I wish I could understand them."

"Who, the Mexicans?"

"Normals in general. I understand how the manipulation works, if we do X then Y will happen because of mental element Z.. but.. even after two weeks, I don't understand why it works! How can those things go through their heads? How can they surrender themselves when they at least have a suspicion that all we really offer is their slavery?"

"Because they run on false hope, and not much goes through their heads.", Billy answered. Wow, he's lost compassion for them fast, assuming he had much to begin with.

"Yeah, I know they can't think.."

"No, Howard, you don't understand. You think that it's that they can't think properly or logically or on the same level you can." That was accurate. "Well, all of those are true- but the fact is that they can't think at all. Their brain cells may act, they may learn to some degree, but they can't step in and say 'Hey, wait a minute, what I've been doing hasn't been getting me anywhere, how about if I try something else.' They can't.. they can't decide, Howard. Not for themselves.. if they could, we wouldn't even exist." He has a point. "And the few of them who can think usually realize that there's no way out, because you and your merry men are simply too good at what you do, and either they realize that there is a conspiracy and they lose all hope, or they think that there's not and they run right into whatever traps you've set up. When you look at it from their perspective, it becomes miserable as shit." As much as I hate considering looking at things from a vastly inferior perspective, it's necessary. The Illuminati are supposed to see both sides of everything, after all.

"Damn, you didn't tell me any of that earlier.", I said.

"You never asked, and I didn't really know. I've been studying misery for two weeks straight. The reference materials just kick ass." I chortled and grinned at that.

"Billy, that made sense. I've been thinking of them in my terms and I don't know why." Why is a dog unable to do algebra? Because it's a dog! Why are ordinary normals unable to make plans and ideas for themselves? Why else?

"Howard, just how genetically different do two things need to be before we start saying they're different species?", he asked, as the rain started to soak my knees.

"It varies. You mean that they might not even be.." Our genetics operations only use species identifications as monikers, as the entire classification system is meant for evolution, not bioengineering.

"These guys aren't. Can't be. Not even smart normals, not really." He's of the opinion that we should be considered H. Superior instead of H. Sapiens engineerus.

"Then I definitely shouldn't be thinking of them in my terms."

"Nope. I can't wait until these spics die.", he said, annoyed.

"You want to watch?"

"Watch? Watch?! No, no, no. I don't want to watch. I want to do it. With my own bare hands."

"Well, when the time comes, you can kill as many as you want if the Enforcers don't get them first. I might take a crack at 'em myself." Just for the hell of it, really. I've never butchered normals before, and the organization causes it all the time.

"Enjoy.", he said, and then I heard a very faint snorting near the base of the tree. Dinner is served. I usually don't have the time or energy to hunt the food I want- but here, the food has come to me.

"Ssh!", I blurted at Billy. "Pig. Stay where you are." I could almost hear him drool. I left him up there and slowly made my way down the tree, feeling my way down. About five meters from the ground, there was a sharp white flash of lightning, and I could glimpse some pink flesh among the branches- then the thunder came, with nearly the force of the boom that the jet causes to people on the ground. Fuck. The pig sprinted from nowhere, crashing through underbrush at the sound of the thunder. I monkeyed my way down as fast as I possibly could. Even though I couldn't see much of anything, I could still hear the pig squealing like crazy about forty meters away- a normal would have said fuckit and just went home. But I'm not a normal. And I'm hungry as hell.

I held my arms out in front of me to push off trees, and ran through the forest after it. Fortunately for me, this is a true rainforest, and there is little underbrush. I followed the squealing after it, as I wasn't being silent at all and it heard me coming. I almost ran into a tree but grab-pushed it and kept going. I heard the steady panicked snuffling sounds before I realized the oinking was indeed getting closer, and could be heard louder through the steadily increasing rain. Then I heard a small crash- did it trip?, and a tumbling sound. Then I realized that the oinking sound was close- two meters, one- then I lost all caution and jumped down after it. A wet gloved hand tightly gripped tender pigflesh.

Yes. Meat.

I squeezed, stepped on the body, and pushed the leg upwards. A snap and a squeal of pain greeted my ears. Then, out of sheer bloodlust, I grabbed the broken leg, and walk-spun the twenty-kilo pig around and around until it finally met a tree. Thwok. Again. Thwok. The squealing grew to a thin whine. I swung again, and at that moment lightning illuminated the sky again, and I could clearly see the pig's head being bloodily smashed apart, skull in fragments, part of the brain left as a gory reminder to the rest of the pigs (not that the pigs would really care), by the unyielding wood. Snap-splat. Meat. Lord of the Flies, meet your match.

Now, to drag this carcass back home and eat it. Which way is home, anyway? Fuck. I'm going to be the everfucking Dominator and I can't even find my way back home on a small island. If there was anyone to be embarrassed around, I would be. But there wasn't, so I was just generally pissed at myself.

Duhhh. Billy was still up in the tree, which is not far from the mansion. I called to him, and his reply was farther away than I figured. I told him to come inside, and I walked through the forest and back inside, grinning, bloody pig in hand, from the cold rain into the steady warmth of ultra-modern heating techniques. Ahh. Better.

"That is what I call a meal.", I said right before I chucked the mangled carcass in the freezer, and flung the door shut.

"Don't tell me you're going to eat that whole thing yourself.", muttered Billy. Of course not. He needs the same amount of food I do, and he was waiting to rip the flesh off that pig raw. For that matter, so was I- I didn't want to go to bed without taking a few bites. This is the nice thing about having an accelerated immune system. I don't worry about whatever diseases normals get from eating fresh, raw meat. And this is the island of the Inheritor; there are no chemical pollutants here. I reopened the door, reached in, grabbed the pig's broken leg, and ripped it off completely, gnawing off the thick, stringy flesh as well as the fatty skin, savoring the thick, rich blood.

"Take some.", I told Billy. He jumped half-in the freezer, dug his teeth into the jugular of the thing, and drank the blood. Then he gnawed into the throat and windpipe, using all the force in his bite-muscles, chewing whatever teeth can chew. He looked like a vampire. Gore dribbled down his cheeks, and he kept ripping and tearing at the thick neck like a wild tiger. Holy shit. I couldn't possibly have underfed him that much. Nah, I didn't- he's just being smart, and eating whatever he can eat as quickly as he can possibly eat it, before I tell him to stop.

I finished my section of leg, brought out the butcher knife, cut into the stomach, ripped out the intestines, and squeezed them of their semi-digested contents before putting the raw chittlings in my mouth. Mmm, mmm, good. I took a few more bites, closed the freezer, told him not to eat any more pig until I said so, chucked the white suit in the wash (not to save some servant some time, but because it was going to stink), went to the bathroom and washed the gore out of my face and hair, then lay in bed naked and mostly relaxed.

How did that pig fall down, anyway? I didn't feel anything down there to trip on. I didn't feel any outhanging root or branch there. There might have been a hole I didn't notice- pigs' hooves are smaller than my feet. I fell asleep on the question knowing I could never be sure of the answer, and dreamt about blood, gore, and squealing pigs who sort of sounded like Billy. Which was slightly disturbing, considering his voice is the same as mine..