Vol. 3 Chap. 83 Our Many Weapons

Vol. 3 Chap. 83 Our Many Weapons

Truth slowly pulled himself together. Improved understanding of self notwithstanding, he still needed to get into Harban. He also still had the minor question of what to do with Barton.

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You just said that was a terrible, vile, thing to do! You had a whole big rant about what a no good, very bad thing that was!

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Barton. You just said his name was Barton.

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By transforming him into my devoted slave.The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.

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The shine had gone off the view. It was still sweeping, looking down over the wide river, the thin belt of suburbs and the terrible glory of Harban. It’s just that the romance had left. Now it was just a series of problems.

Fantastic. Just. Fantastic. I am truly the best lone-wolf terrorist. Can we at least make him happy?

could do it. Look, I’m an expert on manipulating one person- you. And that was mostly because you couldn’t hear me or feel me doing it. We have two capable succubae at our disposal. Use them.>>

Yeah. Sure. Praeger’s rotted cock, what a mess.

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Truth stood and dusted himself off. He firmly decided that he wasn’t going to think about this a moment longer. He had a job to do, and hanging around on this hillside wasn’t going to get it done. Besides, sunset wasn’t that far off. He didn’t feel like sleeping rough tonight. Time to get into it.

Now, did that sound like Jeon? If he was describing the country to a foreigner or something? No. The government dumping intellect suppressants and contraceptives into the water supply for the slums, yes. Creating inescapable indentures in exchange for education and a universal spell, that would be more on brand. Unless, of course, you knew the collapse was coming far in advance.

He could see it with shattering clarity. Some bureaucrat, or probably several, had a high level meeting. Just like the ones at Nag Hammadi. They didn’t agree on what was causing the problem, and probably didn’t agree that the problem was happening at all. More or less what happened at Nag Hammadi. BUT. They were able to “work with industry leaders” to develop opportunities for Denizens to better themselves.

Welfare to encourage parents to have kids. Welfare to make sure those kids reached breeding age. Education for manual labor, variously defined. Smart enough to be useful. But never a real education. Never spells that could be used as weapons, or for non-labor work. No good food, or clean water, or healthy apartments. The obedient, the best laborers, got treats. Everyone else got to live like rats, breeding and fighting in the walls built by their betters. Everyone taught “this is the real world, this is what life is like.”

The people who ran things were playing for the world after the collapse. They wanted the weak Level One’s and the Level Zero’s. They would be the only functional people when the magic disappeared. Lots and lots of Level Ones and Zeros, trained to obey. Trained by the Army during their National Service. Trained by their schools. Easy to adapt into a magic free labor pool and military force. And now? Thanks to the new System coming in? The Denizens would be trained to work for food or shelter, not pay.

All the middle managers would be gone. The CEO’s of small companies, military leaders, lower level bureaucrats and politicians. All the possible challengers to the elite would be wiped out by their collapsing apertures. Only the very top of the pyramid, and the very bottom, would survive.

Jeon knew damn well what Starbrite was up to. The bureaucrats and politicians saw no reason not to get in on the game. There would be an aristocracy of those with body cultivation that let them hold onto their magic. There would be magic fueled by sacrifice instead of cosmic rays. The Church of Praeger would be right there with them, supporting the efforts. Making sure they were the ones holding the knife. And they would have plenty of serfs and slaves.

No more money. You won’t need it. You will make what you are told to make. You eat what you are given, sleep where you are permitted. Those poor dumb “citizens” still clinging to the notion that they were better than the denizens. At best, they would become the overseer class. Still toiling out in the fields for the real masters. Whipping can be tiring work. Delegation is the soul of leadership. The leaders must have their rest, so that they can make the very best decisions for everyone.

Borges knew. He knew exactly what these pricks were up to, what they had been up to for decades! He wasn’t trying to invent an entirely new world, he was going to hijack their plans and substitute his own, better version. Something more humane and beautiful. Did Merkovah know? Maybe not about why Borges was doing what he was doing, but he must have known about what Jeon was planning. It wasn’t a secret. It was a conspiracy right out in the open. The only secret was the “why.”

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Which scum?

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Truth threw himself into motion. He aimed for the barges on the river. There would be security on the docks, certainly, but nothing too bad. Just too much volume moving through there, and smuggling had always been the rule, rather than the exception. He had a dead drop to pick up , too, and it was on the riverfront.

Truth leaned up against the rail and watched the city crawl by. He could see it now, a little more clearly. A factory. A component in a larger system called Jeon. Getting ready for the exciting new product launch. Truth started smiling.

A well trained slave class was what the bureaucrats and aristos wanted. Truth was quite willing to bet they had never been to the slums. He had a feeling things weren’t going to work out quite the way they planned.