Humanities Future

'How's he controlling my attacks so well!' Syris shouted inwardly, her flaming icy dagger flickering as though it were fractured shards of light, dissipating and appearing in a vast array of strokes and thrusts.

And Altair thought: "How the hell is she so fast!" His sword, anticipating and reacting precisely to his will.

Blades swirling into deadly arcs angled at such dangerous vertices, any irregular movements or mistake meant death for both parties. Their Dance of Blades was seemingly unending until a thunderous voice seized control of their small bodies.

"Enough!" The Master of Swords, with the permission of the Reverend Mother, shouted, appearing like an apparition separating the two kids at each other's throats. "This match is over. Both of you will stand down." He said, receiving glares from the two children.

"But…" Altair started.

"It's enough," Veltos said sternly this time, leaving no room for negotiation, understanding the sense of frustration within the young boy.

"I can keep going." Altair insisted.

"Me too!" Syris added, her cheeks flushed red and her breath erratic.

"You fought well, Syris." The Reverend Mother said. "But this match is over. Look at the boy's sword."

Syris did, and her eyes widened at the scorched G-Weapon, slowly falling apart as they spoke. The Gravoian Alloy at its center gave the weapon its ability to influence gravity with each swing, monitored by a chip that was all but destroyed. The blade was but a hollow shell of what it once was.

She winced. "I didn't notice."

"And why would you?" Said the Reverend Mother. "I shall speak to your other Master later. We've neglected your Hand-to-Hand prowess for too long. Head to the infirmary with the boy and get treated. I'm sure you tore a few ligaments." She turned her gaze now on the Head Knight. "You may take me to the Duke. I am done with my tour."

"Of Course," Ser Flinn said. "Right this way.

Leading the Reverend Mother away, Flinn continued to monotonously perceive his surrounding. He knew that in every major family, the walls had ears and knew there was always at least one assassin.

Or worse, a spy.

He was sure that information regarding the Reverend Mother's arrival had already spread within the capital. He merely hoped that her arrival would drown out the noise of the kid's earlier battle prowess.

'When will my Lord allow me to clean house? My blade has been itching.' He thought, revealing a wolfish grin. He approached his lords office chamber and knocked.

"Enter," The Duke said from inside. "And that will be all, Ser Flinn."

The Reverend Mother followed in and closed it just as Flinn left. She turned to the Duke and found herself a seat on a nearby auburn settee. She folded her legs over one another, her presence overwhelming the room.

"Quite a surprise I was given." She started, "Whose the boy?"

"Boy?"

"Do not test my patience, child. Altair." The Reverend Mother said.

The Duke flinched at the name. "I don't believe I know what you're getting at. Has Altair done something?'

'So he knows the brat, but not deeply. But it's of no concequenss. However, I should test him. I should test his loyalty." The Reverend Mother thought, leaning her head over her palm. She stared at the fool, trying to obtain the impossible.

"I have little time for games, Garel." The Reverend Mother said, as though she were speaking to a servant, a wretched beggar. "Why pretend you do not know what happens in your home? Who is Altair?"

Duke Garel quivered at the tone of her impatiens. 'Nothing more than a child, your grace. He lives with his Mother, Tenebrae. A lawyer woman. Nothing of—"

"Garel." The Reverend Mother said calmly. "Who is Tenebrae? And do not test the importance of this alliance with me. There are other dukes. Yours was only the first due to your ambition. But there are others. So I ask again. One final time. Who is Tenebrae?'

The Duke's fingers clenched within his lap, hidden by the desk. He'd known her words to be true. And a wave of loathing tarnished by humiliation swept through him.

'I must endure.' He told himself, holding the smile he'd welcome her with. 'No matter the humiliation. I must join the GCA.'

"It's as I say. The boys' Mother, Tenebrae, is but a lawyer. One I met on the thirteenth floor of Babel Tower. I was gravely injured from the fifteenth when I met her. She was still pregnant then. That was a little over a decade ago. Years later, She appeared asking for her son to live in house Aros for the next three years. Having owed her a favor, I agreed." He admitted.

'So there is no loyalty between Tenebrae and him. Much less the child. To betray her identity at the slightest inconvenience: The woman who saved his life. This mongrel cannot be trusted. But I can trust his greed. He'd be very easy to read and control.' she thought, tapping her fingers against her mask.

"I see.

The Duke sighed in relief at her words. "Are you interested in Altair and his mother?"

"Not particularly," she replied blandly. "Mere curiosity that's been satisfied. Shall we continue? I'll like to discuss… citizenship amongst our people on Earth. As you know, the Emperor is slowly growing disapproval of our clones, seeing it more as wasteful spending with the advancement of Earth through the years."

"It's true. But surely that shouldn't matter. We lost over two-thirds of our population when Babel Tower first appeared." The Duke began, growing more comfortable speaking of things within his control. "And while humanity managed, we need the clones for years to come for procreation. Our world has barely reached twelve billion, and compared to the universe, we are but a drop in a bucket. Even your Mainland has well over a trillion souls living in it."

"What is your point, Garel." said the Reverend Mother finding the patience to entertain his drivel.

"I mean to say the Emperor needs more people. Desperately so, which is why all levying bills regarding homosexuality remain banned. Futility is currently humanity's greatest asset." The Duke remarked. "I do not foresee the Emperor—"

"That's enough. Our council told us the same." The Reverend Mother interjected. "Had what you said not matched our reports, this world would have lost a duke." She smiled, observing the worm squirm uncomfortably beneath her gaze. "Well then, what would you suppose the Emperor will do if we cut the number of clones necessary for procreation by, let's say, twenty-five percent."

"My Lady, that would be… a mistake."

"Irrelevant. What would the Emperor do? How desperate do you think he'd be? After all: despite humanity's growth. Millions die each year due to your planet's mysterious dungeons. And it's on the GCA to continuously deliver clones. Surely you know the cost of manufacturing perfect clones, not to mention genetic enhancements and so on. Earth is very rich, but the supply and demand we see don't benefit us in the long run. We'd be digging ourselves into the ground, allowing humanity to strive as we did a thousand years ago. So I ask, how desperate is the Emperor?"

'This witch! Without the clones… we cannot combat the dungeons while retaining a significant rise in births.' He thought. 'Earth's advancements would stagger significantly. With clones, we get a constant rate of talent, unlike with natural borns, whose talent tends to be randomized.'

"He'd be furious. And might implement the old laws. Barring women from dungeons and work. He'd make them factories." He answered, dreading the outcome as one of humanity's darkest moments.

"Good. So here's my offer Garel. Under my authority, I will give you the Clone Factory to do as you please, for the next Ten years. During that time, you'll have unlimited access to our clones and limited access to our genetics… in return. You will barter with the Emperor Court for our citizenship. Succeed, and your temporary status will become permanent. Fail, and we exterminate the Aros Family. This will be a test. One that will allow you a seat of power within the known sectors. Play your cards right... and your name might become relevant on Genisis.