of the library, not quickly, anyway, and hurried toward the shielded console that would allow him to proceed.
* * *
—
Darkness and light collided, and the shadow manifested itself once more before the console.
MODIFICATION 6—REMOVAL OF MORAL PROSCRIPTIONS.
As the energy-forced air pressed the activation square, the violet-white radiance faded, and the shadowed shape was suddenly alone in the dark silence of the ramparts above the dreamers below. The dark shadow remained, watching as the quantum manipulation touched the contents of each tiny enclosure, one after another, until it had touched and changed each of those within the ark.
In time, the figure in black sketched a portal in the air.
In that portal appeared a thin face, one bearing the image of the Go-Captain, wreathed in the reddish light of the star-chariot. Are you contacting me to gloat?
I would not stoop so low. I’m merely contacting you to make sure you’re comfortable.
As comfortable as possible, given that I’m confined here. What are your intentions?
Once the download is complete, and I am safely grounded with the last of the dreamers, the blocks on all systems will release, except for the weapons module, which I’ve disassembled and placed in a descent that will burn it into uselessness before dropping it to the bottom of the deepest ocean, and you may have complete freedom of the heavens.
With no way to descend.
Of course.
You’ve gone ahead with your mad plan.
They have the same right to choose as we do. That’s little enough to give them. They’re getting nearly nothing else besides initial supplies and basic tools.
Before long you’ll have sons killing sons, because they’ll have no restraint. The restraints would have lessened with each generation.
We don’t know that.
That was what was programmed. And you forget that the pen or stylus, or even myth, is mightier than what happened. I have enough adherents among the dreamers that, in time, I will remain as the victor, and you the fallen.
I have chosen to descend, in order to uplift them.
They will remember only that you have fallen, and that I control the heavens, for that is what they will always wish to believe.
When I have given them the freedom of thought?
Most will be comforted only by the shackles of belief. How are you any different from the aetherials? You decry our use of forces, but use force against us. What makes you any different?
After a long pause, the shadow figure replied, I am no different. What I have fought for, always, is different. For you, the goal is power so that you can enforce peace and prosperity. For me, power is only the tool to seek knowledge.
Without faith, neither prosperity nor knowledge can ever be enough.
The shadowy figure gestured, then sent the lightning signal. Stop-Captain to Go-Captain. Separate.
The dark figure sketched another oval beside the first, which revealed the forward section of the ark lifting away from the larger and lower section that began to descend.
Or as the descendants of the dreamers will someday say, “Farewell, Jahweh.”
Farewell, shadow claiming to bring light.
WORKING CONDITIONS
PATRICK M. TRACY
Sam was a loyal employee. Perhaps loyal to a fault. Delia didn’t like to think of things in those terms, but when Sam returned to work after being afflicted with vampirism, she had to admit that some virtues could be taken beyond their rational limits.
“Sam, you’re dead,” she pointed out, leaning against the door to the stock room, where Sam had been busy organizing and categorizing everything that could be organized or put into categories. He’d found a label maker somewhere, and there were sticker labels on everything in sight. He’d created a spreadsheet for rotating inventory. A pack of highlighters littered the small desk. The file drawers stood open, half the records out and stacked on the floor. It was beginning to be a little absurd.
Sam shrugged, peering up from behind his shaggy hair like a puppy. “That’s a matter of perspective,” he said after a moment.