"Where is Q," he talked into his phone to police searching the city. "I will find ways to punish all incompetent personnel allowing this man to escape."

While flicking through hundreds of cameras in all offices and on city streets, Robertson became bored. He decided to watch a history lesson which schools used for teaching children. A favorite of Robertson's was the cruel calamities caused by government control of the weather prior to the war.

"Weather control," said the history lesson's announcer, "became a standard practice of powerful governments for one hundred and fifty years prior to the war. Historians agree that the war might have occurred earlier if weather as a weapon had not been employed."

Robertson enjoyed the video archives of people drowning and homes being washed away in China and South Africa. Bodies floated in dark sea water, and often the clothing had been ripped away by powerful waves.

"Any enemy country considering a war would halt plans and attempt to rebuild," continued the announcer. "The secret weather control allowed the adversary to both cause the disaster and then offer food and other resources of help."

Robertson backed up the video a few times to see favorite parts of the weather destruction. The hundreds of floating bodies impressed Robertson as flushing debris.

"Also," said the announcer, "powerful governments utilized earthquakes to ruin opponents without them knowing the truth."

The two brothers played a computer game on the large screen in the family room. Nearby, Geoffrey and his wife stood near a kitchen counter and prepared food in a manner they enjoyed. It was a good lifestyle provided by Geoffrey's job as a mental doctor. Although, the highest elites bothered Geoffrey with their directive not to tell anyone, even his wife, about the "hearing voices" issue. He cut up an onion for a soup he liked to cook. He controlled his mind and conversed about general topics.

"Candace will do well in life," Geoffrey could see all three children from the kitchen.

"You've been pensive lately," Olivia conferred. It was as if her husband knew something could occur, some upheaval. "Robertson will be on the screen later to make one of his periodic speeches."

"I was just observing," said Geoffrey. "Since Candace now has ranked high enough to only do half days of school."

"The boys won't live past forty," replied Olivia. "Maybe jobs in food production could maintain them. Something relevant. Raising chickens."

Olivia diced chicken meat to add to her husband's delectable soup.

As Q sat, thought, and glimpsed the direction he might proceed to make it to the road leading out of town, he donned the comfortable athletic shoes stolen from the police officer. In this era, people lacked emotions and life was just life, so harming the officer did not affect Q's conscience. However, somewhere inside him, Q felt deeper realities. He recalled the child like voice that clearly played in his head when he saved the cat: as you have done it will be done to you. That caused him to think. Could something outside himself, a form of caring or consideration exist? The officer would recover. He wanted to take Q back to the mental facility where Q would suffer. All Q had done was defend himself and stolen the shoes which now ensconced his feet. He could travel in these, but he still needed clothes. His only garb was the flimsy hospital gown. Nevertheless, he stood up, tested how the shoes felt, was assured, and moved in the direction he knew the Masters of Opulence bus normally traveled.

Robertson paused to give his practiced visage to the camera. The pathetic fools never had a chance since they were born to their stations. He hesitated. Why had he thought a truth he normally took for granted? Television technicians stared at Robertson from behind the camera.

"People, I assure you that I care about you and am doing everything possible to continue our food and energy. Our children will continue to enjoy the best media devices for playing games. Documentaries about Kaaler and his great postulates during the time of the war will be taught properly. Methods to occupy time and managed cities mean peace and contentedness from birth to grave for all of us."

Robertson's smile at the camera did not match his narrow, unblinking eyes. Tomorrow he would send orders to have workers at the mental facility chastised. The bus driver had lost his position and been moved to a chicken house. The police officer, weak and stupid reportedly approached the main office without his shoes and with a bloody nose. He also would be reprimanded. Robertson needed to get home to relax. He needed mist.

"Always remember to control your urges to procreate. One child per couple, and follow the dictates of Kaaler concerning the horrific practices of our ancestors when we mated and groveled in bizarre manners. When a woman could grow half a dozen children during her lifetime and dozens of grandchildren depraved by the Hollywood dementia and leading to famine and the war."