RE: Re: RE: Soul Factory
I am expeimenting in a new writing style for me in this story, tell me if I start to mess it up.
Chapter 2
Very few people in the world know about the job I do. Apparently world leaders do not want their people to know they are being harvested for their souls. Go figure. Funny thing is, my job title and bio are still found in public records. I also have a nametag:
Michael Ricon, Official Ambassador to Demoncia
I thought this a funny occurrence to begin with, an ambassador to a place no one knows exists. It occurred to me that this might cause unnecessary suspicion, but while walking the halls of the United Nations for my first time, I met several people that eased my mind. They knew nothing about Demons. The conversations mostly went like this:
“Oh hello, My name is blank, I haven’t seen you around.”
“Hello, blank, I am the new ambassador to Demoncia.” Trying to hide my title would be pointless, with my nametag pinned on the breast of my suit.
“Good, well I hope that works well.”
‘Thank you.”
“Yes, I have to go now, nice meeting you.”
Apparently most people assume that Demoncia is just some backwater country they have never heard of. Instead of inquiring they act as if they had know about it all their lives in order to not appear stupid. Not one person has asked me about my job. That is the problem with most people, they are stupider than they would like you to know.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
My bio says that I am six foot two, one hundred and ninety-seven pounds, thirty six years old and I work as an ambassador to a place named Demoncia, and that I was appointed in 1997. My older bio says that I was appointed in 1985. An older bio says 1973. The U.N. has no respect for continuity. In actuality I was appointed thirty nine years ago, funny thing about working across dimensional lines. You tend to acquire immortality. I gained everlasting life at my first meeting with a Demon.
When I saw my first Demon, I was not really surprised. He was wearing a business suit. A loud tie was snug against his fatty neck. His hair grey and thinning. He introduced himself only as “Gary”. It was like a bad political cartoon. I now know that Demons only appear in a person’s mind. Well actually they interlock a portion of their energy matrix with the electrical synapses of the brain until they achieve synchronism and they work on the redirect of optical neurons to produce an image of themselves in any form they chose. To be exact.
We met in a particularly decorated hotel in some high rise hotel in some large city, like New York, Los Angeles, or maybe even Chicago. It was quite a while back. I do, however, remember the conversation that took place.
“So you are the new kid.”
I introduced myself and explained that I was.
“Such a formality, your title.”
I asked him why.
“We do not need ambassadors, we know more than any physical being. In actuality, you are more of an multidimensional errand boy.”
I inquired as to how that would work.
“My boy, do you think the U.N. just chose you at random?”
I told him I hoped they would put more forethought into it than that. I was such a witty bastard back then.
“My boy, your wrong, they didn’t pick you, we did. You are one of the few people on planet earth that has the right genetics for the job.” He paused as if to preempt his next words with a sense of drama. “You have the immortality gene, all we have to do is activate it. Then us Demons will have the most reliable errand boy in this dimension.”
I wanted to question him about that, but I was too busy rolling on the ground screaming in pain. Just to get the word out, having your cells and DNA rearranged is not the most pleasant of feelings. So I was quite relieved when I passed out.
My eyes felt as if they were still shut when I awoke and I saw Gary was standing over me. It took me a while to realize that my eyelids were, in fact, closed. I was too exhausted to be shocked.
“Well my boy,” I wished he would stop calling me that. “Welcome to your new life as one of the immortals.”
Thirty nine years later I still work as that one-dimensional errand boy for the pseudo political organization that has killed the most human beings to date. Two weeks ago my superiors informed me that I was going to perform my most important errand ever. That was when all hell broke loose. There is a pun there, but when you work for the people I work for, it has been done.
to be cont...
__________________
He who angers you conquers you. ~Elizabeth Kenny
|