《Everyone Dies Alone but not necessarily in space》#13

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Ikaroa met her escort at the usual time and place, at sunrise by the ruins of the old opera house. The glare off the ocean was blinding, but at least the air was cool. In a few hours time it would be too hot to be outside. Too hot for a human anyway — perfect temperature for a Meitagenan.

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Ikaroa caught herself sneering. As if an Ascenter would help them.

The vehicle drew up along the road, its driver hidden behind tinted glass windows. Ikaroa took a quick glance around, then opened the door and slid into the back seat. The car pulled away at once, heading north through the Old City. Ikaroa watched the suburbs roll past. Scorched earth and crumbling buildings. An occasional Sentinel patrol scouring the ruins for looters and bandits. Once they reached the highway Ikaroa turned away from the window, put her head back and tried to sleep.

***

There were days when even Ikaroa believed that there was hope, that the Movement had a chance. Today was not one of those days. She got out of the vehicle, opening a parasol to shield against the sun. She wrinkled her nose at the foul stench in the air, tried to ignore the moans of Rondles as they rolled across the dirt. The farm was not a place that inspired hope. That was probably why the Master had insisted that they meet here.

A Sentinel escorted her along the path towards the Manse, between two corrugated iron sheds, most likely containing hundreds of battery-farmed Bitesized. She flinched at the sound of a whip cracking ahead — but it was just a farm boy trying to get a Rondle out of their way. Ikaroa briefly met the poor beast’s eyes, saw fear mixed with confusion as it pushed off on its stubby little legs and half-rolled, half-wriggled off the path and into the field in front of the Manse.

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The Master was there, standing at the doorway. Usually she met him inside, but it seemed today the weather was nice enough for a stroll. He gave Ikaroa a friendly wave, and stomped down the steps towards her.

“Ikaroa! Good of you to come.”

Ikaroa bowed deeply before her Meitagenan overlord.

“Master.”

“I hear that some of your flock is missing, dear Ikaroa.”

“I’m afraid I have no explanation for their disappearance, master.”

“How many?”

“Sixty-seven, my lord. Gone without a trace, from cells all over the planet.”

“This is deeply concerning, Ikaroa. You know how we like to keep a close eye on your associates.”

Ikaroa suppressed a tremble. “Indeed, my lord. I thought that perhaps… given your extensive surveillance, you might be able to shed some light on the matter.”

“We know no more than you, it would seem.”

They continued their walk around the field, Ikaroa averting her eyes from the livestock as much as possible.

“Delightful creatures, aren’t they?” the Master barked at her, insisting that she look where he pointed. A young male Rondle was staring at them through the electric fence; when Ikaroa met his gaze he got excited and rolled towards them. The sharp shock he was administered was not enough to dismiss his curiosity: again and again he rolled against the wires, braying in frustration and pain. Ikaroa shuddered.

“Please, my lord… I am too hot in the sun, might we not go inside?”

“As you wish, dear Ikaroa… I would not want you to be uncomfortable.” He gestured towards one of the great iron sheds. “How about in there?”

Ikaroa dared not protest. She took a deep breath before passing inside.

“I feel I must warn you, my dear — if this vanishing act turns out to be some kind of trick…”

“Master, I assure you, I…”

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“If it turns out to be a trick, things will not go well for you.”

“Of course, master. I will do everything I can to find out what happened.”

“You do that, Ikaroa. It worries me to think of so many of your friends, lost and afraid, without their masters to look after them…”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Look, Ikaroa, look at them. We’ve come a long way with the Bitesized — you know they come in as many as thirty different flavours now?”

Ikaroa forced herself to look down from the walkway, at the wretched creatures below. There were hundreds of them, wailing and squealing as they clambered over each other in search of food scraps.

“Well done, master, that’s … impressive indeed.”

“People pay a lot of money for these, you know. They’re quite the delicacy. I ship around, oh, about five hundred thousand off-world every month? I should be able to retire very comfortably.”

They descended a flight of metal steps to the level below. The smell was much worse here; Ikaroa could hardly breathe.

“I find it very cute, you know, Ikaroa. Your friends, playing at war, at revolution. Some people will never be satisfied as a thrall. Oh, I know it, better than you in fact. There’s always that small fraction that needs an outlet of some kind. Well, personally I find it adorable. I’m more than happy to oblige. Everyone should have a hobby.”

He reached over into the pen and plucked out a Bitesized at random. A shrill cry pierced the air, little arms and legs flailed about for a few moments, before the Master tossed the creature into his mouth.

“This is my hobby, Ikaroa,” he said as he chewed. “It’s truly fascinating what you can do with a few generations of selective breeding. I believe you did the same with dogs, no? Made them as small as possible, or as fluffy as possible, or as obedient as possible…” He gazed at the Bitesized lovingly. “It’s very satisfying seeing all my hard work pay off.”

He turned back to Ikaroa.

“As if the human race could possibly hope to overthrow us.” He laughed heartily. “You might as well ask a pig to revolt.”

Ikaroa lowered her gaze.

“Just remember our agreement, my dear. You help us keep the revolutionaries in check, keep them distracted. Let them follow their false prophets — let them believe they have a chance. Do your job well, and you will be rewarded.”

He smiled at her benignly.

“I have good news for you, Ikaroa.”

Ikaroa looked up, for a moment met the Meitaganen’s big, amber eyes.

“I have been speaking with my friends at the Ascenter farms. Aotearoa — isn’t that where you were reared? One of the most productive farms in the southern hemisphere. These days they’re turning out thousands of Ascenters every year. They’ve perfected the art, it would seem.”

Ikaroa didn’t dare say a word.

“I heard your daughter qualified, in fact. Very high intelligence scores, overall genetic health among the best they’ve seen this quarter. You should be proud.”

“I… I am very glad to hear it, my lord.”

“Fix this problem, Ikaroa. Find your missing associates, and you will see your daughter again. We’ll have to bend a few rules, but you’ll get your augments. You were so very close to qualifying, after all. We’ll put you on a ship with your daughter. We’ll find a world for you both, and good, honest jobs. You’ll live a good life, far away from here.”

The Meitagenan helped himself to another snack.

“It’s the best a human can hope for.”

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