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Robertson's nature, of course, was to be a winner. He relished the harm bestowed on the
puny loser below by Robertson's phone call. The police came and found the man, reported to be using a pretentious name, Q,
as he maintained his greatness as a musician. He was supposed to be on the Masters of Opulence bus destined for a better
place. "Of course," noted Geoffrey, a disgruntled, harried
mind doctor called into work today because fellow Doctor Maurice reported sick. Geoffrey knew Maurice cheated the system
by taking a recreational day anytime he wanted. Maurice's soul was questionable. Too bad there did not exist an opportunity
to put him on the MOO Bus, Geoffrey thought. "Yes, Q. You are supposed to be on the bus. Nobody questions that." "My
guitar is on the bus," Q was concerned. Robertson in his penthouse could amuse himself by monitoring any department
in the city. He watched and listened. He inhaled fragrant mister smoke, a blend of marijuana and alcohol which filled the
air. Robertson was curious about the creepy man Q who sat strapped with heavy leather belts to a wheelchair in the mental
center. This department was run by Geoffrey, an idiot Robertson would enjoy making miserable if he somehow could. Maybe
Geoffrey would reveal an indiscretion while questioning; then, he could be punished by Robertson. "Q," said Geoffrey. "That cannot be your true
name." "It's my show business name. I'm almost famous." "Let's put that aside for a moment..." "No," Robertson felt anger and exclaimed while,
in fact, neither the two in the mental office nor anyone could hear Robertson. "No," more than enjoying vices, he gratified
himself many times a day by being cruel to victims in the streets or departments below. Robertson did not want Dr Geoffrey
putting aside the issue. What was Q's actual name? MOO Bus or not, the guitar player could not use any name he wanted.
It was illegal. The name should have been focused on by Dr Geoffrey. "Let me ask you a question, Q," said Dr Geoffrey.
"Do you ever hear voices?"
Zenon could leave the two children to
play. He needed to spend time on the control deck of the ship. Thousands of lives and the stockyard level of human families
below depended on Zenon's piloting skills as this lead vessel approached legendary Earth, seeded twenty thousand years ago
with the human beings. As in the lower part of this advance ship traveling ten times as fast as the main craft, the human
beings grew their own side dishes and basically maintained themselves as a tasty protein source. Angela and Fritz, ages twelve and nine, said
goodbye to their dad, Zenon. Angela's mind recently developed a skill only adults possessed. She could envision, sometimes,
the world of the humans. Something connected her brain to theirs. Telepathy, it was called. Any child Angela's age who
acted bad and upset the humans on the stockyard level of the spaceship would be chastised. "You don't know, Fritz," said Angela. "The people
are terrible because they never develop souls. That's why they remain nothing more than animals and a food source for us." "I
know that," Fritz studied the Book of Kall like other kids. "Don't tell me you are so much smarter than me." "I
would never use telepathy with our food stocks," she replied. "But we are close to the planet Earth. I envisioned an Earth
being giving up his guitar, missing his ride to a better place..." "That means he'll be slaughtered," Fritz interrupted. "...yes,
but he got off the bus, left his guitar behind, and Q saved a cat from being run over. I thought, as it is done by you it
shall be done to you," continued Angela. "The Book of Kall," Fritz was not stupid. Q dared not move where thick leather straps bound
him to the mental department's chair. If this doctor wanted to know about Q hearing voices, he intended to lie. Only once,
earlier today, had Q ever heard a voice. When he released the cat into the alley, a clear, child-like voice had pronounced
the words -- good, as it is done by you it shall be done to you. Dr Geoffrey noted Q's stiff demeanor. Geoffrey
realized Robertson could see and hear everything in the mental department. Nevertheless, Geoffrey was a doctor. A directive
recently from very high offices bypassed everyone on Robertson's level. Societal Elites, the most favored people on Earth,
a strict minority at the top, sent orders directly to all mental department doctors: find out if case patients are hearing
voices and keep all findings secret.
Q always knew he was ahead of others in reasoning. If a person was careful when watching
TV, he could glean worthwhile information. Few, or maybe no people recognized the civilization all around them as a totalitarian
system. So he would get on the Masters of Opulence bus and go to become well off and famous. However, Q felt something more.
This was something ancient and primal. First, there existed a normal breakdown in efficiency historically noted for totalitarian
regimes. But more than that, something spiritual occurred as Q was confined in the hospital. An employee pushing a lunch
cart into the ward briefly allowed the locked door to swing open. Q merely walked out. He was wearing the hospital gown
and flimsy sandals provided by the place. But he managed to stroll into an alley between tall, windowless walls of brick.
The afternoon weather was beautiful. He thought of the cat he had left in the alley previously. Although Q would be on
the MOO bus (his guitar already went), he rationalized that the correct thing to do would be to find some clothes and then
walk onto the road leading out of town to the destination rather than backtracking to the original bus location. He was late, too. What would happen to his guitar? To return a distance
across town to his apartment for clothes impressed Q as a bad idea. He wanted to get moving. The road out of town to the
Masters of Opulence was nearby. He glanced above where cameras monitored all aspects of the city. If police had previously
captured him and tied him up in the mental ward they might do it again. He needed to avoid detection, he thought. Also,
there still mattered the idea of the clear, child’s voice Q heard when he saved the cat. That voice bothered Q. It
was not from his own mind, he comprehended.
Robertson was furious. Gone for an hour and a half to enjoy pornography in the other room,
he now found out the suspicious man, Q had escaped the hospital.
“I can tell you,” Robertson’s adrenalin
enlivened him, “punishment will come to the people that were not properly maintaining the mental facility. Send police
to the MOO bus where the idiot no doubt will proceed. Also, have all the cameras in the city near Q’s apartment watched.” The
main purpose of Robertson’s life was to hurt others. He noted that all people were animals, savages capable of heinous
actions. Therefore, he would always stomp down anyone and everyone. He understood after many years of life that he enjoyed
winning. He harmed others. He ruined others. And he slept better on the nights when he had damaged the most fellow contenders
in the game of life. Robertson was truly irked that a pathetic person from the daily Masters of Opulence bus walked freely
in the city. Robertson restlessly viewed expanses of buildings out his window. The city cameras would find Q. Then, Robertson
could dictate appropriate punishment. He would do a bit of work at his desk. It was a speech he needed to make on TV later this week. “Fellow
citizens. You support me. You praise me. (Fools, thought Robertson. Good, let them suffer.) Although you never have as
much security or food as I do, you know I care. I relish your continued support and love.” No, thought Robertson, that speech was inadequate.
He needed to phrase it better. The masses of TV watchers and citizens for several centuries both before and after the War
did not realize they actually were duped by their beloved leaders. The TV morons should have realized that if people were
savage animals each contending for prosperity, then of course the leaders they admired were lying and making profits from
the audience. Robertson thought about the MOO bus designed to shunt aside any dangerous, talented people attempting to threaten
Robertson’s level -- he felt angry that one had escaped.
Q remained wary of cameras in the alley near the mental facility. He avoided them and
proceeded onto a nearby street. People did not often go outside since the purpose of life was to amuse oneself with computer
games and TV while adoring the idols who were better and finer than average citizens. Thousands died daily and were carted
off to city refrigerators, but when an idol died, someone born into rank or deemed important by television, mass study and
reverence of the life occurred. "Dress properly," a policeman
interrupted Q. "You cannot wear your sleeping garb out here. What's your purpose?" "Sorry," said Q. "I'll return inside immediately." The
officer recognized Q. He activated his city communications device. "Ten four. Ten four. I've found Q approximately
six blocks from the mental building." When the policeman moved to punch, Q dodged slightly to the side and locked his arms around the policeman's arm.
The momentum carried the officer forward and Q used that opportunity to trip the man and bang his head onto the concrete.
He was knocked unconscious. Dozens of police would arrive any moment, but Q noticed expensive athletic shoes on the officer.
Q quickly untied the shoes and took them while he left sandals behind. Bare feet could run quickly on city pavement, so
Q hastily got away carrying the quality athletic shoes.
On the spaceship, Fritz, age 11,
would go eat in a little while with the family. His sister earlier made fun of Fritz because she had acquired telepathy for
contacting the minds of the humans. Fritz took this opportunity to read his Book of Kall. "The Civilization Cycle means that over tens
of thousands of years, the dominant species on Earth will build itself up and then destroy all it has built. If the timing
is fortunate, our spaceships will arrive during a latter stage of the cycle when the tasty food source, human beings will
be packed judiciously across the planet creating a wonderful bounty for us. Human beings are the dominant species because
they can think and work together. They can also use tools and invent productive items such as vehicles and televisions.
I, Kall, used telepathy from a million miles away as we headed in that direction. It was after one of the civilization cycles
for the beings. I am the greatest because my mind stretched the farthest across space. All recognize that telepathy with
any human food stocks is taboo, but my connection was with Earth people. I inspired them once again to set fields for growing
wheat and corn. They reinstituted animal husbandry. A few billion people had died of starvation and war during this late
cycle in Earth's history."
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