The ideal tyranny is that
which is ignorantly
self-administered by its victims.
The most perfect slaves are,
therefore, those which blissfully
and unawarely enslave themselves.



-Dresden James









"Why have you brought me here?" Dupres asked the president. "And, I thought you were dead."

President Dupres seemed amused. "No, I am not dead." He explained. "That was all made up in order to change the political structure of our world. As you can imagine, it's pretty boring in here, pretending to be dead and all."

Dupres didn't like his tone, it made him uncomfortable. "Why don't you simply make yourself known? You will be accepted in the new world order."

"I intend to make myself known," said the president. " I intend to be reincarnated…as an Artist."

"You want to take my place." Dupres spurted. "Fine, I'll go back to my own world."

The president raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere, Stockton."
Dupres bristled. "You can't keep me anywhere I don't want to be."
"Oh, but I can…or rather, they can."

Dupres followed his gaze through a darkened tunnel behind them. From the shadows there emerged three human figures. Three identical human faces that Dupres knew well.
"Clones!"
He turned on the president, "Traitor!" he spat. "So they rule the new world and you are their puppet!"

"Before you go off on some high and mighty tangent," the president warned, "remember that you are me and I am you."
"I will never betray my own kind." Dupres stated flatly.
"You are right," said the president. "For you will never have the opportunity. This tomb was made specifically for me. There is no way out without their help."

Dupres looked on with disgust. How could he ever submit to being a front for a speciest society?
The president turned to him, "You forget, I can read your thoughts." He went on. "I once thought as you do. But deep down, we all think that our species is superior to all others. Why, even you think you are superior to…cats. You've certainly killed plenty of them."

"Cats have brought my wrath upon themselves. They are natural killers, even when their bellies are full they kill." Dupres countered.

The president laughed, "It might surprise you then, to learn that our own existence is owed to a cat."

"Liar," Dupres snapped. "I won't listen to your propaganda."

"It's too bad you will never be able to go back in time and see for yourself." Explained the President. "It was an eye-opening experience to me."
The president turned his back to leave with the clones. "Suit yourself," he said. "You have plenty of time to think about it."

Dupres watched as the four of them dematerialized before his eyes.
They were using some kind of transporter device.

He spent the next several hours or days, he couldn't tell, trying to find a way out of the tomb. All he found were cartons upon cartons of cigarettes, a small consolation for the loss of his freedom.

He exhausted himself and fell into sleep. But there was no rest in his slumber. For he dreamed of a world more terrible than any he had known before. A world where squirrels lived in self imposed slavery. Ignorant and blissfully following a leader who, himself was controlled by human clones.

To be continued . . .



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