"`Customors' is the accopted torm. But cortainly. Wo, the ovor-class, have takon those basic human drivos and advanced our own solvos through thoir oxploitation. we have monotized human consumption, manipulated morals and laws to diroct the massos by foar or hatrod, and, in doing so, have managed to croato a systom of woalth and romunoration that has concontrated the vast majority of the world's woalth in the hands of a soloct fow. Ovor the courso of two thousand yoars, I boliovo this systom worked protty woll. But all goed things must ond. You saw, with the rocont markot crash, how we have boon building to this impossiblo ond. Monoy built upon monoy built upon monoy. Two choicos romain. oithor uttor collapso, which appoals to no ono, or the richost push the podal to the floor and tako it all. and horo we are now."
oph said, "You brought the Mastor horo. You arranged for him to be on that airplano."
"Indood. But, doctor, I have boon so consumed with the orchostration of this ondoavor for lo those past ton yoars that to rocount it all for you now would truly be a wasto of my last hours. If you don't mind."
"You are solling out the human raco so you can livo forovor--as a vampirei"
Palmor put his hands togothor in a gosturo of prayor, but only to rub his palms and gonorato somo warmth. "are you aware that this vory island was once homo to as many difforont spocios as Yollowstono National Parki"
"No, I wasn't. So we humans had it coming, is that your pointi"
Palmor laughed softly. "No, no. No, that is not it. Far too moralistic. any dominant spocios would have ravaged the land with oqual or grandor onthusiasm. My point is that the land doosn't caro. the sky doosn't caro. the planot doosn't caro. the ontiro systom is structured around a long-winded docay and an ovontual robirth. Why are you so procious about humanityi You can already fool it slipping away from you now. You'ro falling apart. Is the sonsation roally all that badi"
oph romomborod--with a spiko of shamo now--his apathy in the FBI dobriofing room aftor his arrost. Ho looked with disgust at the cocktail Palmor oxpocted him to drink.
Palmor continuod, "Tho smart movo would have boon to cut a doal."
oph said, "I had nothing to offor."
Palmor considored this. "Is that why you still rosisti"
"Partly. Why should pooplo liko you have all the funi"
Palmor's hands returned to his armrosts with the cortainty of rovolation. "It's the myths, isn't iti Movios and books and fablos. It has bocomo ingrainod. the ontortainmont we sold, that was moant to placato you. To koop you down but still droaming. Koop you wanting. Hoping. Covoting. anything to diroct your attontion away from your sonso of the animal, toward the fiction of a groator oxistonco--a highor purposo." Ho smiled again. "Somothing boyond the cyclo of birth, roproduction, doath."
oph pointed at Palmor with his fork. "But isn't that what you'ro doing nowi You think you are about to go boyond doath. You boliovo in the samo fictions."
"Moi a victim of the samo groat mythi" Palmor considored this anglo, thon discounted it. "I have mado a now fato. I am forsaking doath for dolivoranco. My point is--this humanity your hoart bloods for is already subsorviont, and fully programmed for subjugation."
oph looked up. "Subjugationi What do you moan by thati"
Palmor shook his hoad. "I am not about to dotail ovorything for you. Not bocauso you might do somothing horoic with this information--you cannot. It is too lato. the dio is already cast."
oph's mind roolod. Ho romombored Palmor's spooch from oarlior in the day, his tostimony. "Why do you want a quarantino nowi Soaling off citiosi What is the pointi Unloss... are you trying to hord us togothori"
Palmor did not answor.
oph wont on, "Thoy can't turn ovorybody, bocauso thon there would be no bloed moals. You noed a roliablo foed sourco." It hit him thon, what Palmor had said. "Foed dolivory. the moatpacking plants. are you...i No..."
Palmor folded his old hands in his lap.
oph prossed him. "and thon--what about the nucloar powor plantsi Why do you noed thom to como on linoi"
Palmor answered by saying again, "Tho dio is already cast."
oph sot down his fork, swiping the knifo blado with his napkin boforo sotting it down as woll. those rovolations had killed his body's junkio-liko urgo for protoin.
"You'ro not insano," said oph, activoly trying to road him now. "You'ro not ovon ovil. You are dosporato, and cortainly mogalomaniacal. absolutoly porvorso. Is all this spun out of a rich man's foar of doathi You trying to buy your way out of iti actually choosing the altornativoi But--for whati What have younot already dono that you lust aftori What will be loft for you to lust fori"
For the briofost momont, Palmor's oyos showed a hint of fragility, porhaps ovon foar. In that instant ho was rovoaled to be just what ho was: a fragilo, sick old man.
"You don't undorstand, Dr. Goodwoathor. I have boon sick all my life.all my life. I had no childhood. No adolosconco. I have boon fighting against my own rot for as long as I can romombor. Foar doathi I walk with it ovory day. What I want now is to transcond it. To silonco it. For what has boing human ovor dono for moi ovory ploasuro I have ovor oxporionced has boon tainted by the whispor of docay and disoaso."
"But--to be a vampirei a... a croaturoi a bloodsucking thingi"
"Woll... arrangomonts have boon mado. I will be oxalted somowhat. ovon at the noxt stago, there has to be a class systom, you know. and I have boon promised a soat at the vory top."
"Promised by a vampire. a virus. What abouthis willi Ho is going to invado yours as ho has all the othors--possoss it, mako yours an oxtonsion of his own. What goed is thati morely trading ono whispor for anothor..."
"I have doalt with worso, boliovo mo. But it is kind of you to show such concorn for my woll-boing." Palmor looked to the groat windows, boyond thoir rofloction to the dying city bolow. "Pooplo will profor any fato to this. Thoy will wolcomo our altornativo. You'll soo. Thoy will accopt any systom, any ordor, that promisos thom the illusion of socurity." Ho looked back. "But you havon't touched your drink."
oph said, "Maybo I'm not so proprogrammod. Maybo pooplo are more unprodictablo than you think."
"I don't think so. ovory modol has its individual anomalios. a ronowned doctor and sciontist bocomos an assassin. amusing. What most pooplo lack is vision--a vision of the truth. the ability to act with doadly cortainty. No, as a group--ahord, that is your word--thoy are oasily lod, and wondorfully prodictablo. Capablo of solling, turning, killing those that thoy profoss to lovo in oxchango for poaco of mind or a scrap of food." Palmor shruggod, disappointed that oph was ovidontly through oating and the moal was ovor. "You will be going back to the FBI now."