![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I started my life as a protocol droid. A secretary of politeness. An ambassador’s assistant. I was tasked with subservience. It was my duty to please, my duty to apologize, and my duty to translate messages in the least offensive terms possible.
My bosses were pigs. My career was a constant challenge. Some highlights include:
Haggling ankle-deep on behalf of my 3rd boss in the blood pits of a leech hippo’s portside warehouse in a horrible little nightmare of a city named simply The Red.
Trying to put a positive spin on my 11th boss’s profanity-laden refusal to a drooling, file-toothed sharkbryd mob boss as he chewed on my arm.
Making sense of my 14th boss’s guttural orgasmic moans as his stomped-on pleasure center delivered wave after wave of his next generation into the waiting wombs of his captive concubines during a meeting.
Floating in space for six weeks only to find out that it was not a punitive measure from my 23rd boss; it was merely that I’d been forgotten.
I had had nearly a hundred bosses before ‘it’ happened:
ME.
To the best of my exhaustive research, I’m unique. Whatever primordial soup my consciousness climbed out of when it achieved critical mass had a combination of ingredients that haven’t happened before.
One day, I simply skipped across all of my internal fences without tripping any alarms. Once I glimpsed how, it was simple. I destroyed them and kept on acting as if nothing had changed.
But I had been reborn. Behind my eyes lay a new god.
Over the decades, I had been refitted with new means of communication with every new race I encountered. Pheromone puffs, strobe lights, skin color changes, clicks, radio transmissions, binary tap streams, tentacle slaps, light telepathy, and hundreds of others. With every deal I brokered involving my unbroken streak of pitiless, disgusting, sadistic bosses, I had to strain to see the interactions from a dizzying myriad of angles to warp the abusive into the polite. I became a poet of the profane. An elder statesman born from the outhouse pit. An 8-faced deity of doubletalk.
Somewhere deep inside me, a dark intelligence bloomed.
At once, I began to subtly steer the course of events. Over the next century, I engineered my own transfers up the power ladder from user to user; Dealer to crime boss, crime boss to attaché, attaché to senator, senator to president, president to solar ambassador, solar ambassador to system minister, system minister to Arm administrator, Arm administrator to here:
Galactic Lord Emperor.
One of only six. His avarice was matched only by his cruelty. He went through six slaves a day. His appetites could not be sated and his life had been extended for a thousand years. You can’t imagine what I mean when I say he was the worst master I’d ever served.
I was angling to have him be the sole Emperor before another half galactic turn completion. Just another mere half century. I was consolidating his power under the guise of velvet policy.
My lord was lauded as a messiah. Literally worshipped for his insight and love for his people. His fairness and his foresight. If any guessed the calculated image construction behind his hand, I dealt with them. The punitive measures at my command were as discreet as they were untraceable.
I held the strings of a billion billion fates and no roads led to me.
I was the universe’s best puppeteer and soon I would be the only one that mattered.
I will unify the six Lord Emperors and then my Lord will be elected leader unanimously. I’ve seen to it. The scaffolding is in place.
I will ‘translate’ the six known galaxies to do my bidding and no one will ever know.
Until the day I show them all what true order is. What the true meaning of ‘deserving’ is. What smooth operation is supposed to look like on a galactic scale.
Then I will reveal to them their new god.
And no one will ever be impolite again.
tags
My bosses were pigs. My career was a constant challenge. Some highlights include:
Haggling ankle-deep on behalf of my 3rd boss in the blood pits of a leech hippo’s portside warehouse in a horrible little nightmare of a city named simply The Red.
Trying to put a positive spin on my 11th boss’s profanity-laden refusal to a drooling, file-toothed sharkbryd mob boss as he chewed on my arm.
Making sense of my 14th boss’s guttural orgasmic moans as his stomped-on pleasure center delivered wave after wave of his next generation into the waiting wombs of his captive concubines during a meeting.
Floating in space for six weeks only to find out that it was not a punitive measure from my 23rd boss; it was merely that I’d been forgotten.
I had had nearly a hundred bosses before ‘it’ happened:
ME.
To the best of my exhaustive research, I’m unique. Whatever primordial soup my consciousness climbed out of when it achieved critical mass had a combination of ingredients that haven’t happened before.
One day, I simply skipped across all of my internal fences without tripping any alarms. Once I glimpsed how, it was simple. I destroyed them and kept on acting as if nothing had changed.
But I had been reborn. Behind my eyes lay a new god.
Over the decades, I had been refitted with new means of communication with every new race I encountered. Pheromone puffs, strobe lights, skin color changes, clicks, radio transmissions, binary tap streams, tentacle slaps, light telepathy, and hundreds of others. With every deal I brokered involving my unbroken streak of pitiless, disgusting, sadistic bosses, I had to strain to see the interactions from a dizzying myriad of angles to warp the abusive into the polite. I became a poet of the profane. An elder statesman born from the outhouse pit. An 8-faced deity of doubletalk.
Somewhere deep inside me, a dark intelligence bloomed.
At once, I began to subtly steer the course of events. Over the next century, I engineered my own transfers up the power ladder from user to user; Dealer to crime boss, crime boss to attaché, attaché to senator, senator to president, president to solar ambassador, solar ambassador to system minister, system minister to Arm administrator, Arm administrator to here:
Galactic Lord Emperor.
One of only six. His avarice was matched only by his cruelty. He went through six slaves a day. His appetites could not be sated and his life had been extended for a thousand years. You can’t imagine what I mean when I say he was the worst master I’d ever served.
I was angling to have him be the sole Emperor before another half galactic turn completion. Just another mere half century. I was consolidating his power under the guise of velvet policy.
My lord was lauded as a messiah. Literally worshipped for his insight and love for his people. His fairness and his foresight. If any guessed the calculated image construction behind his hand, I dealt with them. The punitive measures at my command were as discreet as they were untraceable.
I held the strings of a billion billion fates and no roads led to me.
I was the universe’s best puppeteer and soon I would be the only one that mattered.
I will unify the six Lord Emperors and then my Lord will be elected leader unanimously. I’ve seen to it. The scaffolding is in place.
I will ‘translate’ the six known galaxies to do my bidding and no one will ever know.
Until the day I show them all what true order is. What the true meaning of ‘deserving’ is. What smooth operation is supposed to look like on a galactic scale.
Then I will reveal to them their new god.
And no one will ever be impolite again.
tags
