Slow as ever, time continued to pass. It has a habit of doing that, whenever you do or don't want it to. Time, unlike anything else (except light, but even jets like this can't quite do relativistic speeds), tends to have its own road, apart from the usual turn of things. It decides the turn of things. Time will pass regardless of who dies and who doesn't. It's just a matter of what state you're in at the moment- sleeping, normal, super-adrenalized, or anything in between- that decides how you experience time.

So, naturally, time was going pretty damn slow for me. Which is a bad thing- I do have an odd craving to watch Howard speak, to get some of the suspense over with. But it's also a good thing, it means that I can stop and think some more. And seeing as how thinking's the only thing I really can do at the moment, now's a great time to start.

Ways out: Forget it. Been there, can't do that.

Ways in? Hmm. That's a new one. No one ever considers how to break into jail. All the barbed wire is pointing the wrong way, all the guards are expecting in-to-out movement.. how do people get into this organization, anyway? They got me The Really Simple Way (and had I not been to that orphanage, it surely would have happened some other way, one thing I do know is that these guys do not fuck around), they got Sarah Another Really Simple Way, but what about the Illuminati themselves? Oh, hell. I'll find this shit out later. It's probably a variation of the obvious- find the smart guys and just draft them in.

Ways sideways: Another new concept. A little birdie in my head (Okay, guys, it's getting crowded, I need some space in here, it's still my cranium after all) told me that I'm probably fairly safe where I am and that if someone else in this organization got me, it would probably be a fuckload worse- hell, for all I know about this place, I could be sitting on a cliff of Bad, ready to fall into A Fuckload Worse. Besides, Howard's my twin, after all- he does have some sense of empathy and he reserves his power. So, fuck that. If I am doomed to be somewhere in this organization forever, I need to know what Howard's really like and what he really does anyway..

Ways some other way: Not even gonna try.

So, fuck moving around. As much as it pains me to admit it, 'doesn't work' is still 'doesn't work' and no amount of wishful thinking will change that. Let's see, what else...

What do I have to lose? Not all that much, really. My sanity, perhaps. My thoughts, I doubt I'm going to lose those. The idea of being able to perform the natural functions of a living creature? Not going to lose most of those.. The idea of being able to do what I want? I haven't lost that, really. I looked at it from his point of view and thought about it- well, if he's not actively using me, what the hell does he care what I do so long as it's not in his way? Of course, contact with the outside world is something definitely forbidden. These are the secret masters, after all.

How monumentally fucked-up this all is took another moment to reflect on me. For a reason I cannot fathom, I simply stopped thinking about it, leaned back, and probably had a self-induced petit mal seizure, as time passed by. I suppose that's just my brain reconfiguring itself, getting rid of the waste.. all the postulates and pre-suppositions are gone now. The real rules have been discovered.

I looked at Howard and he was thinking about what's to come, or maybe just daydreaming (What about? Some things are better left unasked. Of course, as an immortal I'll find out such things eventually, they'll fade back into unimportance, or better/worse yet, his daydreams will come true.), head rolling back and forth on the comfortable seat. Which is a reminder of reality- in fantasy, no one ever finds themselves idly daydreaming about random shit, unless it rapidly starts coming true. But the Dominator has fantasies and worries, just like anyone else.

He rolled his head in my direction. "Billy, how is life without power?"

"It sucks shit, especially when you think about it."

"All the time?"

"All the time. As soon as you remember you're powerless, no matter where you are, your life is acknowledged as being sucky."

"And I suppose your school was designed to manipulate its students into the normal way of thinking."

"Yup. Brainwashing through fear, peer pressure, pressure from authority figures, and use of force, over a long period of time." And probably some other manipulative techniques I don't know enough about to identify. The time is what gets me the most. My twin master here hasn't been forced to spend six and a half hours a day for five days a week doing effectively nothing.

"So how little power did you really have, anyway? Any influence over school, over others in the school, over other events outside of it.."

"Okay, how do I get this through to you.. imagine being in a straitjacket, tied to a wall. Only no one ever tells you you're tied up, you're in the 'land of the free' and all that, but you can't do anything. Nothing. I mean fucking zilch. Everyone in America under the age of 18 isn't much more than a numbered hunk of meat, and those over are moving, numbered hunks of meat. The only people who understood anything, including me, at all were my so-called parents, who were probably agents.."

"Every normal in America, you mean. We've got young Illuminati all over the globe. We're not the only engineereds on this planet, Billy." Why would we be? Shit, if you're going to make that kind of technology investment.. "And yes, your parents were our agents. We wouldn't do it any other way."

"That figures. I'm going to assume you get whatever the hell you want.."

"You assume correctly.", he replied. Sarah laughed for a bit.

"So if you want something that's a prototype or just not out yet, do you get it?"

"Yes, of course. I'm not the only one who wants things before the masses get their hands on them. Pre-dated inventions and products are just another one of the perks, and we've got several dozen dedicated Enforcers and servants here for just that." That also figures. If not for their efficiency that number would probably be several hundred, either way it's expensive as hell.. but who cares about the expenses, so long as these guys get what they want?

"And if you want something that doesn't even exist, can you get it anyway?"

"That's called a special order, Billy. If it can be built with the technology we have, they will build it for me. And they will check it, and even put it into general use- this one's mine, the hangcopter." He showed me a diagram and animation of a cross between a hang-glider and a helicopter, with large blades, straps, and obviously some automatic system in it so that the rider could utilize weapons or tools while flying. I studied it more closely- yup, it's workable, got a tail-rotor, guards against getting your limbs severed by the blades, emergency disengage (don't forget your parachute..), and all.

"Fuuuuuuck...", I muttered. I've seen these style of things on the History Channel, but the government abandoned them because they simply couldn't perform.. of course, with the mega-advanced power supplies, super materials, and micro-engineering techniques of these people, if it could ever possibly work, they'll make it work. Some remaining shred of self-preservation told me that I've got to keep that in mind...

There wasn't anything else to ask him. I know what's going on, as insane as it is. He simply owns.

And so I waited, looking over at Sarah, who was partially zoned-out, even with Howard laying on her. Looks like she's used to waiting.. which makes sense, considering that's what predators do. Howard wasn't, and he was slightly fidgety, playing a few games I didn't recognize on the jet's computer, trying to sleep, and took a few things that looked like candy bars from behind the seat and ate them- I took some myself and found them delicious, and found a water supply to the front and right of where I sat. For a jet this small, it's sure made for long trips.

A while later (no way I'm looking at a clock- I don't want to be counting seconds), Howard sat up, pulled apart a magnetic closure on the ass of his suit, pulled open a slit on the seat, and relieved himself- the instant he did that, I realized I badly had to go and did the same. "Woah! Good thing the air exchange works.", he said as I unloaded lots of crap and piss.

"You're even faster with the fart cracks than the jokers at school.", I noted. But he was right- my shit stank considerably more than his, certainly due to the differences in diet. How's that, assholes? The people in power really DO have better smelling shit than you!

An indeterminate amount of time later, Howard was obviously making mental preparations, flexing his muscles and trying to focus himself, before giving us a command I expected. "Billy, Sarah. You will certainly have obvious seats. When I go up, take them. When we're there, say nothing unless I want you to, do nothing unless I want you to. And I am to be protected from assassination. Do you understand?"

"Yes.", we simultaneously answered.

He continued his mental preparations with a deep breath, and about ten minutes later, Sarah landed the plane.

The installation, on the outside, was a large, one-story brick building, surrounded on all sides by forest. Guards stood at attention, watching us get out of the jet. Although it was the dead of night, I knew that it had things going on inside- the whole place smelled of secrecy. Or maybe that's just because I know what's going on in there, namely secret stuff.

Howard led us to a small door marked 'Sentient Entrance', obviously knowing where he was going, no guards escorting him. The inside was made of the same steel his mansion is. We continued through a series of elevators, a tram ride, and a few hallways- all interspersed with a few security checks which Howard negotiated quickly. I was too bedazzled by it all to pay much attention to exactly where I was, although I didn't see anything except for mechanical conveyances, steel walls, guards, and security devices- I was too busy imagining what was going on behind the closed doors we passed. Oh well. I'll probably become familiar with this place as well.. we finally came to the anteroom of the auditorium where Howard would give his speech, and his surrogate father was there in the flesh.

He said all of four words. "Howard, you already know." I tried to telepathically command him to look at me, to answer the burning question of what the fuck he thought he was doing when he separated us and then made me his servant. It didn't work. The aged man walked out the stage door, and stood in front of the chairs, at the stand-up microphone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Illuminati!", he began, in a booming voice amplified by the sound system. "You know why I'm here. I'm here because I'm old. I'm here because I'm losing touch. I'm here because I don't belong here anymore, and I have someone with me who does."

"Ladies of Gentlemen of the Illuminati, I have a statement to make. I resign from my position as Dominator. I claim no power, either as a leader or an Illuminatus, for I am neither of those things. The man who stands before you is one of the masses, who humbly requests that you kind sirs and ladies accept the presence of his chosen replacement, Inheritor Howard." Two guards led him away, either to his death or a life of leisurely retirement- I'm guessing the latter.

Even though a large, digital wall clock said that it was almost fifteen minutes early, Howard didn't keep his people waiting- he walked onto the stage, and we followed him.