I was sitting in my usual place, on the ridge overlooking the grass and the house. I would have climbed the tree or the mountain, but I really didn't feel like doing that. For that matter, I really didn't feel like doing much of anything.

A black-clad figure walked up to me from the distance, not hurrying, just plodding along in a gait I wasn't familiar with. Is that how all normals walk when they don't really give a fuck who sees them? It appeared so- he wasn't limping or moving strangely due to a replaced dick. Paul slowly made his way up the hundred yards to where I sat lazily, staring at him and through him.

For a fleeting instant I had a vision of Paul just up and singing something like 'Somewhere Out There'. I pushed the thought out of my head. If he did that, I'd shut him up completely for weeks. Instead, he slowly sat down next to me, and said, "Howard, I'm not really sure why I'm doing this, but I have to thank you for something." Now this is a new one. I get six straight weeks of constant beratement and snide, semi-witty insults from Billy and Sarah (always witty enough, I realized, to get me not to tell them to shut the fuck up, a thing I intend to do in the near future) and here he comes thanking me for who knows what?

"What?", I asked, smiling out of the right corner of my mouth.

"For.. for taking me in. And.. for saving my life.. and giving me back my dick."

"Well, I had it on pretty good authority that you were worth something. I figured I'd try you out.", I said with my patented smile. He didn't reply, and just sat down, seemingly trying to relax for two minutes. He was about to do something... ah. Asking a question. "Ask it.", I said evenly.

"Why was I taken? And .. how did you know I had a question?"

"Because you talked to the wrong people about Billy, and because it was decorated all over your face."

"The wrong people? No one even asked me anything!"

"Exactly. If some guys interrogated you, they'd certainly be from us. No worries there. But when you start blabbing to the general populace about this friend you had and his special abilities- that is when things get hairy. Too hairy, this time, and the secrets were just too high-level."

"Why didn't anyone just.. like.. threaten me?"

"You must be kidding. That would make it obvious something was up, and you might have told even more people. We had to remove you. If it wasn't for Damien needing a new servant, you would have been killed." And if we did do that and Billy found out, he probably would have gone apeshit.

"How many people have you killed like that?"

"Plenty. Enough to staff Microsoft and all its subsidiaries and bought-out companies, at least." I was being nice. That number is much higher than most people think. I didn't really want to panic Paul or send him on a shortcut to insanity when he learned the real body count of direct Illuminated attack. Indirect is even worse- Holocaust, anyone? Hitler was one of us, of course, but he got nasty, and severed his connection to us. We considered axing him, but then some other guys realized what a nice world war could do for the industrialized world, a few guys were put in the right places, and whammo! The sheeple kill each other left and right in what normals know as World War 2. Countries are unified, and the stage is set for the Cold War. Oh well. I wasn't there.

"You've.. killed.." Duh- miscommunication.

"Not me, you dope! The Illuminati. You really think I axed that many sheeple in ten short years? That would be funny, but it would be a great big sign saying 'Hey, right here, there's something we're not telling you going on!' Pfft."

"Oh. Then .. how do you stop people from finding out.. especially since you own all this stuff?"

"There are two ways to explain this. The long way takes years. The short way can be expressed in three simple words. People are stupid, Paul. If you can remember that, you will quickly understand, hopefully before you get too old to be useful with that knowledge."

"So you're basically just driving people like cattle."

"You're quicker than I thought."

"Where to?"

I grinned. "Well, we didn't know, at first.. we just developed technology, and increased the population and our power. But now.." I tapped his head three times.

"What.. my brain?"

"Nope." I tapped his head three more times.

He caught on. "Oh... NO!! Howard! You're going to.."

"Uh huh."

"Everyone?!"

"Sooner or later. If we need the normals, that is."

"Howard, I have never wanted to kill you more."

"And I have never cared less." I chuckled. I was probably screwing around with things I shouldn't be telling him about, but so what? I realized I'm something of a sadist- Damien may have liked his servants to scream in bodily pain, I grin watching them squirm in impotent rage.

"No one.. even pretending to be free. And no one to stop you."

"Perfect, isn't it?" I could get used to this. Now I know why Billy had him as a friend. His reactions are funny as hell, he still has some remains of his freedom illusion, and he's probably the only person of normal birth (I don't think I consider him a normal anymore) on the planet who can understand me the first time around.

"Howard.. are you the Antichrist?"

"No, Billy is. I'm just the guy in the back yanking his strings." Of course, it's always the guy in the back, unseen, who is getting the best end of things. This applies everywhere- normal relationships, politics (local, national, and world), even many Illuminated fourth levels are getting manipulated by fifths- and then there's the completely unconfirmed rumors about a few yet-to-be-named fourth levels having some dirt on some seconds. Again the law is proven- power doesn't really exist, and those who can manipulate the best are the ones really in control, at least until recent technological advances changed all that... drugs, bugging devices, modern communication, subliminal messages, specialized environment-affecting techniques (the least of which are known by the FBI), and mind control implants. But simple manipulation is still the main focus and our strong suit. Again, I found myself thanking all the gods worshipped in the entirety of human history for those advances. Simply manipulating these three servants, even Paul, is somewhere between 'not possible' and 'no way'.

"By the way..", I continued, "you don't believe any of that Christianity shit, do ya?"

"I didn't even use to take it seriously before .. before Damien. But now, I.. I dunno anymore. Anything seems possible."

"In other words, your reality was fairly much shattered, and now you see nowhere to turn for the security you used to have."

"Yeah..", he said, pondering my words, "yeah, that's exactly it! How did you figure that out?"

"Billy got the same. And having years of education in that department helps."

He nodded, and fell silent for a few seconds, then slowly opened his mouth to speak. "You know what's ironic?"

"Spill it."

"In a lot of movies and books and shit, the bad guy or Antichrist is often named Damien or something that sounds like it.", he said evenly. I exploded in laughter. Too, too funny. Does that mean the fatass who kept giving me a hard time was really Satan? And does that make me Jesus for popping him off like an overripe zit?

"Way to go, Paul! You killed the Master of All Evil with a single gunshot wound! Now if only I knew where to find Cthulu so you could pop him off with a BB gun."

"Howard.. you do not act anything like any kind of world dominator I've ever heard of. Or even a kid. You and Billy, man.. you're the fuckin same."

"Score one for nature."

"Uh?"

"Nature versus nurture."

"Ahh. Hey.. one more thing.. why servitude.. why not death? I know you didn't make that decision personally, but I just want to know.."

"Simple, Paul. You are useful. We need more servants for our steadily increasing power. Killing you would be seen as a waste."

"How the hell can I be useful when you've got Enforcers and engineered people, and I'm just normal?"

"You answered your own question, Paul. You're just normal. You've given me more information than you know."

"About what?"

"First, the obvious. You've shown me how a small sector of the population will behave when exposed to the same circumstances you have, and you're giving me information based on a mostly normal perspective. I believe we'll start with people like you, Paul."

"Start wha- oh. That. But... why?"

"Because we feel like it."

"But.. why?"

"The trail of 'why's can go on forever, Paul. Be more specific."

"What's driving you?"

"Ego. Just good old-fashioned ego. We're doing it because we can. We want to do it, we can do it, we do it. We want to do it, we can't do it, we develop the technology, then we do it. Although the various processes we use are complicated and myriad, the end result is very, very simple. We get what we want."

"Then.. what am I still here for, why haven't you killed me already, or let that last command of Damien's do it? I can't possibly be worth that much just for being a normal source of information.."

"You are. But there's more reasons. I need more warm bodies around and yet another mind to make sure I don't severely fuck up." Paul's brain made simple connections and his eyes glowed with understanding.

"You're not the average mastermind, Howard. You're not cruel, you're not evil, you just sit back and fucking kill and control people by the fucking ton! Ming the fucking Merciless doesn't hold a candle to you..."

"Well, hell no. I have more personal power, I actually know what I'm doing, I have far more troops, and the last bunch of guys who pissed me off got... well, you saw what happened to them. So far, just about everyone I've come into extended contact with has compared me to some fictional evil overlord or other, but I'm more of a badass and I've read something the dead overlords haven't."

"What's that?"

"The 231 rules of Evil Overlords. The guy who wrote them's preaching absolute gospel and doesn't know it. A lot of those only apply to total fantasy, but they're all really good advice. My Legions of Terror know how to search for people, my Legions of Terror actually have marksmanship, I actually listen to the advice of my advisors, and shooting is not too good for my enemies."

"At least you're not diabolic or maniacal.. god, this is just so fucked up."

"And Billy has told me that too. Look at the bigger picture, Paul. I'm sure you can comprehend it. This isn't any different than any other bid for power anywhere. We're simply upgrading. If this were a previous time, I would control you through threat of force, physical and mental dependency, and good old Pavloving. Now, there's advanced technology. Later, there will probably be something even better than this. But it's the same thing you've seen before and you'll see anywhere."

"I guess since you're telling me all this, I'm going to be here a while.."

"Of course, Paul. For the rest of your life. When you lose your usefulness due to the diseases of old age, I will terminate you. But, by that time, advanced technology can be used to prolong your life- and if you do succumb to the more popular diseases, you will probably ask for me to kill you. But every normal has to face that sometime, unless something else gets them first."

"And I suppose if I wasn't doing this, I'd be in training to become a wage slave for you anyway, only I'd be lower on the totem pole."

"Exactly."

"Well, that's what Billy said... '95% of the time, this sure beats school.'"

"And logically, the other 5%.."

"Sucks a good deal of shit."

"Well, now, Paul, I'm going to save you some pain, save me some trouble, and inform you exactly of your position. Your pleasure and pain mean nothing to me. I do try to keep you relatively happy because it improves your thinking. Angry people fuck up more. Besides, having pissed off people as the people you talk to most of the time does wear on the nerves. Especially Billy, he is my mirror image."

"Were you born this selfish or... no wait. You weren't born this selfish, Billy isn't. They made you this way."

"Actually, it's a bit of both. You're right, Billy was never quite as selfish as me. But he's a quick learner. Exposure to his world-controlling clone is influencing him. And for the better- for the both of us."

"You expect us to put ourselves first when we're your servants?"

"Well, you have to put me first, Paul. I already commanded you to do that when I gave you commands in reverse order. But not worrying about anyone else will save you some grief, because over the course of the next few decades, you're going to watch me and my organization fuck over legions of people."

"And I know why you're being honest.."

"Paul, believe me when I tell you that I will never lie to you.", I said, grinning a bit.

He chose to stay seated next to me, silently, and I didn't command him otherwise. We stayed like that for an eternity in the space of a few seconds. Or minutes. I will never know how long, mostly because I had drifted off into space again, my brain operating randomly, electricity beginning and ceasing in random spurts, testing the connections, my regenerative system of immature cells quickly regrowing any cells that had died, prolonging my life another day in exchange for a day's worth of living, the DNA being constantly checked for imperfections, the cells conjugating, auto-detecting, and suiciding if they sensed something was wrong with themselves, and the white cells detecting and destroying the renegade ones, then the good cells detecting the lack of nearby cells, splitting and regrowing what died, preventing permanent cell loss, or cancer, or the slow-death-by-cell-damage called 'aging'. I love that. It's amazing what scientists, computers, and people in general (Stupid as they are!) can do when they have adequate reserves, enough brain mass, a damn good motive, and plenty of support. And for those of us who haven't been engineered, there's still the prospect of a retrovirus to make normals engineered, san incredibly difficult project that's taking them years and may yield nothing, despite how much I want it for Paul. Oh well. Even if the retrovirus proves a failure, he's at the brink of the technological immortality curve- when technology finds ways to prolong a life quicker than the life ages. He could live to be a hundred and fifty or so with today's technology- tomorrow's could make him immortal some other way, or just prolong his life another hundred years, in which a hundred years' worth of futuristic geriatrics would be researched. And he's in Illuminated hands now, and our technology is the best in the world. I grinned. Ahh. Power. What good are a thousand men with guns if you can obliterate them in seconds with something better? It's the same with the rest of technology, which is why Illuminati fund it so hard. Or at least I was taught, when I was seven.

"Howard..", Paul began unsteadily, "why do you always have us around, instead of all those Illuminated people?" I laughed for a bit.

"Don't you get it? You guys are the only people I can talk to who I can trust. They want to stab me in the back, Paul! I can't talk to them without watching every single word to see if I'm giving something away! And talking to Enforcers.. well, it's kind of like having a friendly conversation with a brick wall."

"I've done that.", said Paul with a slight grin.

"What- had a friendly conversation with a brick wall?", I said at the same time as he said "Having a friendly" and then he started nodding.

"Brick walls are great, actually.", I pointed out. "They're good listeners, they don't get excited, and they never talk back or argue. They also don't devote their lives to pissing you off."

"Oh, I get it, so you implant people to do that for you."

"Paul- believe me here. I do not need any more people to piss me off unless it's necessary. Especially you three. I get enough shit as it is."

"Join the fucking club.", Paul muttered with venom.

"I'm already in the fucking club, remember?"

"Yeah, the Shitluminati." I cracked up. Paul's voice turned from funny to deadly serious in a tenth of a second. He looked me directly in the eye and did not blink, enunciating each word with conscious use of his lips and tongue to form a grim, dark (he wasn't trying either) tone. "But Howard, you still have your freedom. Feel lucky. This is the ultimate shit. Living hell, an eternity of pain, oh, that's worse in the agony department. But if I wanted to wish the most brutal and torturous fate on my worst enemy that I could fucking ever think of, this would be it. Not ending up with someone like Damien, either. With you." Well, now, this is an unexpected development. I began to think about similar situations in the future, as the pool of non-Enforcer implanteds gradually increased.

"Paul, I don't torture you, I don't kick you around, you have things to play with and food to eat, the only orders I give are the ones that directly benefit me- so why?"

He gave the answer I should have predicted, but missed completely. "Because", he said, pointing a slightly shaking forefinger at me and talking in an even grimmer tone, "it means that we can't hate you. Or at least we have more trouble with it. But you can, Howard. You can." On this he is exactly right. I can. I just won't. The difference is enormous, but he understands it. "At any time, without any fucking warning at all, you could do to us worse than what you did to those peasants Billy was telling me about. And there's nothin any of us can do to stop it." For the first time in my life, I had nothing to reply with. I heard breathing from behind me and spun half-around; Sarah and Billy were standing about three meters behind me.

"How much did you two hear?", I shouted.

"Umm..", started Sarah.

"From 'don't you get it' to 'do to stop it'.", Billy said.

"Yeah.", nodded Sarah.

"Fuck. Do both of you agree with what he said?"

"Pretty much.", said Sarah, nodding some more and a grim smirk on her face, at the same time Billy said "Yeah." in a neutral tone.

"Then this is going to add some more complications... going to have to have a hundred percent protection all the time from every servant, no matter who it is. Why didn't you say something about this before?"

Once again, I really should have predicted the answer. "You never asked.", said Billy and Sarah simultaneously.

"What the hell were you thinking, anyway? That you could just implant everyone, and sooner or later they'd start to like it? Howard, the people you said were best to implant, the smart people that didn't always do what they were told, the ones that you said would get used to it- they won't completely. Ever. The only people you don't have to worry about killing you after some miscommand are the ones you said weren't worth it at first- the stupid people.", said Billy with some hate.

"Dammit.", I muttered. "Do all of you still want to kill me.. even after the tests?"

"Uh huh.", nodded Billy. "Oh, yeah.", said Sarah. "I .. I dunno.", said Paul, shaking his head. "Howard- it's really not your fault, is it?"

"He's the one who's going to implant everyone, if you remember, Paul!", exploded Billy. I almost saw the lingual side of his teeth as he shouted.

"Yeah", he said, turning at me, "but weren't you like.. taught to be like this?" I started chuckling.

"Paul, I do everything that I do because I want to do it, not because of what I was taught, or beliefs, or anything like that. The same should be true of any other Illuminatus. So why do you two", I said gesturing at Billy and Sarah, "want to kill me?"

"General principle.", said Billy, at the same time Sarah said "Because I fucking hate all of you."

"Billy, what's general principle?"

"Everything that needs to be done, that should be done, that common sense dictates must be done, but no one really knows why."

Sigh. It's irrational, but he knows it's irrational, and he doesn't seem to care anymore. Is this how I'm really going to croak? One saying of 'Shoot your main target' or 'Eliminate all hostiles as you see fit', and blam-splat, there's one less Illuminatus in the world. And all because of animalistic desires, revenge, and a rogue sense of self-preservation. "Yes, and we have a word for it here too- bullshit. Sarah, you've worked for us for years. You want to kill every Illuminatus there is?"

Sarah spoke in a hate-loaded tone filled with vengeance. "Not just you, but all of your puppets, every one of your willing servants (though I'll save them for last), your scientists, and I also want to blow up your governments, your science facilities, your operations, when I'm done nothing will be left except a shattered husk." She started reading my mind again, not that it wasn't fairly obvious what I was thinking. "Only a few words, Howard. Only a couple of words and you and this whole fucking business will be nothing more than a stain on Earth's carpet. I used to think that only a few more kills, only a few more moves, only a few more operations and I'd be out of this, I'd be one of you, I'd be up in the highest levels. And then, of course, they offered to make me a first level Illuminatus. Well, here I am, with my life forfeit and my cunt waiting. Sometimes I try not to think about it, try to pretend I'm something that I'm not just to keep from losing it completely and ending up a mindless servant slut." I figured that was the most likely path of insanity for servants gone bananas- the implants wouldn't be affected, in fact more bases would be covered. The only loss would be that of a mind. "But I'm a killing machine, Howard. I was made for it. And if you want your life to last longer, you better watch just who I'm killing." With absolutely no prompting, Paul started applauding like mad. I joined in. So, surprisingly and with a smirk of dark humor, did Billy.

"Encore! Encore!" shouted Paul.

"Hey- can you repeat that?", I asked with a grin.

"Not perfectly.", she said with a scowl. I didn't think she'd remember it.

"Is there anything else any of you wanna say to me about this?", I asked.

"Yes. I hope you get implanted and given to someone five times worse than the whole Gladstone family. I don't care what happens to me anymore.", said Billy, his visage in a sneer, his hands clenched in the eternal strangler's gesture. I severely doubt he means that permanently- he's just pissed to the point of his anger clouding his thoughts.

"That wouldn't be too bad, actually. He'd be dead in the first five minutes. You forgot how stupid they were. But that's not happening. I'm too damn paranoid, especially now."

"Oh, no fucking surprise. Could that have something to do with the fact that we're all out to get you?", Billy replied immediately and with evil. Paul started giggling to himself in spite of the grave and sadistic things exchanged.

"Billy, have you ever considered Illuminating yourself and seeing things from another point of view, like mine? Do you think this is easy? Why the fuck do you think I have servants, anyway?"

"Yes, and I've determined that it's better to have a risk of death than be effectively already dead, no, I don't think it's all that easy, and because you're the ultimate spoiled rich brat. Any more questions, Howard?" I considered a couple then just decided to forget it.

"Nope."

"Howard.. in another universe, it could all be different.", Billy said with some regret in his voice.

"In another universe, it could always be different. But, if I do terminally slip up, just remember- what happens when I die?"

"We move to a new level of Hell.", Billy said with slightly less anger.

"You are still alive, Billy, and I am certain you care about yourself. And you've been here long enough to know what they'll do to you if I bite it. And if you really do consider yourself dead, how would you like to spend your afterlife?" He didn't answer. He didn't know how.

"Howard, you're a manipulative bastard.", Sarah said.

"Hello! Job description!", Paul shouted at her. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and nodded.

"Howard.. I'm not sure what to believe or plan for or even if I should waste my mind thinking about it, because this all doesn't matter because you never make mistakes like that."

"And you'll miss me if something bad does happen, won't you?" I could almost hear Sarah broadcasting at me, 'That was cheap!' Hmm. It shouldn't be even possible to really manipulate him, regardless of commands. Or maybe he wants to be manipulated- wants to because he hates the torment of free thought with no free action. Wants to because he can't stand the thought of doing what he believes he must do, kill me when he has the chance lest he be subjected to another couple centuries of this. What would I be doing in this situation.. well, the answer to that is pretty obvious, I'm looking at it!

"Yeah.. I guess I will. Especially if some crazy luck does happen and I live another thousand years. There will probably be more people living that long then.. but I'll always be the oldest, always watching, always wondering what the hell would have happened had the coin flipped the other way."

"In that situation, the coin flipping the other way? You would have made some foolish mistake and died at the hands of your own servant."

"That makes various kinds of sense. I should probably ask now- are you the only one doing this, using your.. servants like this?", Billy asked.

"Of course not. And the more I think about it, the more I realize the effects. There's going to be a body count ten meters high if too many fuckups happen. And there are almost certainly, so far, a dozen or two Illuminati who decided to acquire some normal.. friends in this manner. Really easy. The only reason more haven't done it is that by and large, we hate being near normals at all."

"Is this going to become common?", he asked warily. Paul watched the conversation intently, trying to learn something. Sarah was just barely there as usual.

"Well, we've basically just stuck our toe in the water as far as implant use is concerned. Some higher up guys, a lot of servants, but as for all the possible applications, we haven't come close. It's a huge field, just waiting for someone to describe a new way of use- or better yet, an emotional add-on with universal compatibility." An idea that has been bandied about, but never seriously attempted to implement.

"Emotional- will you-"

"No. Wouldn't work, wouldn't work, and I'm not even gonna try.", I said, pointing at Billy, Sarah, and Paul respectively. "When I said universal, I didn't mean engineered, and I didn't mean.. well, whatever the hell happened to you."

"You think I'm too screwed-up, don't you!", Paul said with mock offendedness.

"Of course I do."

"Good, you're right." He changed his voice as he had done earlier, from semi-jovial to dark. "But seriously, Howard. Even if it turns out I'm not so screwed up, please do not use that shit." I identified the source of fear immediately and without any trouble. He is terrified of losing himself. He sees his body as no longer his own (which is not inaccurate) and he doesn't want to lose any part of his mind. And he's got the imagination to picture a very ugly worst-case scenario of what I could do with something like that.

I decided to have some fun with him. "Why not? Wouldn't you like to walk around happy all the time?"

"Seriously, man!!", Paul shouted, in a tone that indicated he believed I was already being very serious.

"Bah. Between your constant feeling of low-level joy and your unquestioning love for me, I don't think you'll worry too much when it's all done. Don't worry, you'll still be able to think straight.. you'll just like me a whole lot more."

Paul's facial flesh was pulled back around his bones, contorting his visage into a mutant grimace. "Howard.. please, man, I like you enough already, don't use that crap, you don't know.. what.." His terror was inhibiting his powers of speech.

Sarah, as I could have predicted, spoiled it early. "He's fucking with you, Paul."

"You're sure?" Both Billy and Sarah nodded at him.

"You're an ASSHOLE, Howard!"

"Since you can't read my mind, I'm not going to command you to not tell me things I already know."

We all ran out of things to say, the sun started to break through the clouds, and I went in, laid on the couch, and randomly daydreamed for hours.