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"Sir, the gates are ready." Cyril walked in, his oily face and dark hair gleaming in the office's dim lighting. Cyril, whose eyes shone with wicked glee at the thought of the scheme. "If you don't mind my saying so, sir, your plan is ingenious." The ferret-like man fawned, smiling ingratiatingly. Oh yes, the plan. Mikhael ignored the bootlicker, intent on his own musings. So simple, he remembered. A flash of insight, and now… One word and all began. He knew that with this, his revenge finally beginning, he should at least feel mild satisfaction. But no, his only feeling was uncertainly. Was this really the right thing to do? Would she have wanted this? He pushed the questions aside, easily done now, after long years of practice. It mattered not what she thought. She was dead, and he would be sure that her killers got what they deserved. Her… his thought returned to that day, so long ago. They had grown up together, as much as 7 could be considered grown up. They and a score of others, in a medium sized town, for away from the large cities, with open air and fields, and other childhood delights. They had been running in the woods, playing tag, laughing. She had been 6, he 7. Vaguely, in the distance, he had heard her mother calling, and reluctantly she turned back. He never saw her again. The next day, he had run over to ask if she could play. He remembered, so fresh, so new the day had seemed. The mother answered the door and he had looked past her. After all, who cared about grown-ups? He wanted to go play! And then the father had been there, and he had looked up at their faces. Both looked sad, but also in a way happy. They told him their daughter, along with several other girls, had been chosen for the experiment worlds. He had been puzzled. Did this mean they couldn't play? He had asked, his voice plaintive. No, they had said… she was gone, and could never come back. He had tantrummed at that. Refused to believe it. No! But he saw in their faces it was true. Why? He asked, when he had calmed a bit. Why? The parents had answered. I don't know… He had only been 7, but the incident was still as fresh as
if it had happened yesterday. He remembered storming away, vowing
in his heart to find out what, what in all of creation gave them
the right to take his friends, and not say why. And when he found
out, he vowed he would stop it. So he had devoted his life to
that. Every class, every thing he ever did, heard, or thought
of was geared to that but still he had been stumped, until recently.
But now he had triumphed, and now, now he would take steps. "Yes?" he asked. Cyril repeated. "Everything is ready, sir. Tomorrow morning you just say the word and POOF! It starts." Oh yes, it starts. And it would never, never stop. He smiled viciously. "Dismissed, Cyril. Prepare for the opening ceremonies." As the little man scurried away, Mikhael looked out at the
clear blue sky, and sighed. |
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