Too many fucking people. I think I’m pretty much living with a headache now, but it’s necessary. I’m stopping them, and by them I mean several of the other assholes around the world. What world leader didn’t get the nanites? I sure as shit got the North Koreans to play ball easily. China, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iran, Iraq, and on and on.
It’s widely believed that mind control, or body control to be more accurate, is wrong. You shouldn’t control another person because it’s wrong. For some reason. I guess they assume too much that it’s a matter of taking a good person’s autonomy away. And then they apply a bit of politically expedient cultural relativism. Sure, every time someone else interferes in the Middle East, it inevitably causes more problems. Except I control the people who would make the problems. Not just the leaders, the clerics, but the people. I didn’t drop bombs, I showered nanites.
Then again, why bother defending myself on that? I’m not a hero. I’m the bad guy, and I happen to be making the world a better place because I’m crossing boundaries that the good guys never would. If I wanted to, I could have the religious council in charge of Iran lining up to blow the Israeli prime minister, or vice versa. Instead, I’m just making them stop with the bombs. And having them dismantle all the nuclear weapons they already have, but that’s entirely incidental and in no way limited to the Middle East.
Officially, it’s a policy of beating swords into plowshares. Unofficially, nuclear bombs can have a devastating electromagnetic affect on a wide area if detonated in the upper atmosphere, something that this entire Earth could figure out with just a couple seconds on Wikipedia.
On top of that, I have asserted my will in other ways that have a dual meaning. For example, the internet. It’s a necessity for most people anyway, and a nice thing to have for those who don’t use it, so who doesn’t love the idea of a massive public works project to spread worldwide internet coverage? Plus, it widens my area of control. There have been a few problems as far as motivating workers there, especially since I’ve been doing my best to stay away from the prior stick-heavy system. “Don’t want to work, eh? Well I’ll just withhold the way you obtain food, medicine, and shelter for your family!”
Oddly enough, giving people food, shelter, and medicine makes some of them less motivated. On the plus side, at least it gave me an opportunity to trim some fat and get rid of the lazy ones like that. The grateful ones and the ones who actually like the work still do it. And I have a plan to get some of the lazy ones involved again: education.
It’s not easy. I’m trying to get rid of currency, after all, and it’s a system people are used to. It’s the system they’re used to as far as distribution of goods and services. Some of the food won’t be a problem there, since people are sometimes paid to destroy crops so the market price of food doesn’t dip too low to make a living off selling the food. In other words, there’s lots of some of it.
Then there’s the whole mess trying to get things repaired. Shit still whack, and I’m trying to motivate without breaking out the whips and firing squads.
In the words of Rodney Dangerfield, I feel like I just gave birth…to an accountant!
But seriously, there’s a reason why post-capitalist societies are supposed to evolve naturally rather than being forced into it all of a sudden. Advancements in technology and industry are necessary. Like how robotics and computers cut down on the work load until people don’t need to work so much. At least I wasn’t crazy enough to try in rural areas that are almost entirely agricultural, like some idiots did in the past.
And I’m sick of hearing about Marx already, as if nobody else had any economic imagination! The guy wasn’t even the only type of communist, and his stuff on history was atrocious.
Suffice it to say, if there was any communist I felt like taking cues from at the whole mess I foresee, it’s Stalin. I just can’t decide if it’s the bit where he purged the country, military included, or months later when the Nazis invaded and he holed up in his room with several bottles of vodka for a few days.
But it’s ok. I can control this. I just have to maintain enough control that various argumentative elements learn they can’t resist. When they stop, I can relax and progress will move quicker. It’s still early is all. They’ll thank me when things are better.
Hell, who am I kidding? I could create a literal heaven on Earth and people will still bitch.
Just like these bastards protesting me. There are groups everywhere. Outside capital buildings, presidential palaces, and Prime Minister residences. On the plus side, as far as unity is concerned, the ones in Jerusalem have truly brought people together. Muslims, Jews, and Christians all united to call me a big fat poopy head. I’m paraphrasing, of course.
That whole mess started when I had the Electric Eye there make an announcement for me: universal freedom of religion. Because I’m trying to show people the right way, whether they like it or not. Well, they didn’t. All three groups there started pointing to each other and saying their languages’ equivalent of “They will ruin our way of life!” and “You can not make us all atheists!”
I didn’t even say that, but they still ended up chanting “Let my people go!” over and over at me without any irony. And unlike that pharaoh, I’m not going to try and let them go after only the second time they curse at me. My reaction may not have won me any friends by forcing them all to quote a relevant bit of scripture to put things into perspective: “And then the Lord hardened pharaoh’s heart and he did not let them go.”
When I let them all go, they tried to get violent. They did not grasp the lesson about free will I tried to teach them. So I made them strip naked and dance with each other until they shut their mouths, then I danced them all back home. Good thing I had an Electric Eye there, too. That took a lot of fine control. Without that thing taking some of the load off, I would have resorted to murder. It’s a lot easier and convenient to obtain peace in the short term by just killing people.
A hand wiping at my face brought me out of my post-despotism reverie. I focused back on my actual body and realized I left my eyes open. There I saw Venus who, despite now being allowed to wear different clothes, still stuck close to me thanks to a chain. I told her she could wear normal clothes, then strongly hinted that the gold slave outfit was normal. She didn’t buy it and had me send for jeans and a t-shirt.
Now, for some reason, she had decided to clean up my face. “What’s all that about?” I asked.
She raised the rag up in front of my face, showing off a familiar red stain. I gasped. “Just because it’s your time of the month doesn’t mean you have to rub it in!”
“You’re bleeding,” she said, then continued to clean up a trickle of bodily fluid out of my nose.
“That shouldn’t be happening. I haven’t been spelunking in there, nor have my nostrils been exposed to excessively cold, dry air.”
She looked close at my nose, nodded, then looked me in the eye. “What were you straining yourself doing? Am I going to hear about it on the news, if you let me see any?”
I rolled my eyes, glad to have the laser one back. “You might, but any idea of a strain nosebleed is preposterous. Besides, if I’d killed them, there’d be a lot less strain.”
“You’re hurting yourself, but not killing them?” she asked, frowning. That wasn’t the complete truth. Soon after eliminating the International Court of Justice judges and asserting my rule over the planet, I brought up Electric Eye Rome and some nice Italians. Sicilians, to be specific. Cobblers. They fitted Mrs. Pretorious, the legal counselor so dedicated to protecting me that she had me dugged, with a nice pair of shoes. A bit on the heavy side, but that’s the fault of the material. So light, you’d swear they could walk on water, just like Jesus himself.
Mrs. Pretorious sleeps with Cthulhu.
“I’m not trying to kill everyone. I’m trying to help them, whether they realize it or not. They can be better, but I don’t have to be like other dictators. I don’t have to restrict them all or kill off everyone. I don’t need to get them on my side by invoking bigotry. The motivation issue’s a problem, though. Don’t want this screwed up by loyalty to money.”
She held my gaze. “What are you trying to prove to me?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything, except that they can be better. And if I’m going to spend so much of my time wanting to kill them, I might as well put my money where my mouth is. It beats whining all the time.” My eyes started to flicker from side to side as I felt another trouble spot tug at the edge of my attention.
Attempted rape. The man stopped in the middle of undressing the tied-up older lady and stood up, zipped up. He hadn’t been flaccid. Luckily, I didn’t have to feel the pain. I made him speak aloud to himself, “You could have just paid for a prostitute, you know. That’s legal now. Go to a BDSM club if that doesn’t do it for you. Safe, sane, consensual.”
He took a knife off the floor nearby that he’d used to threaten his older victim who, to the disdain of my own tastes, looked more like a granny than a cougar. I made him cut the woman loose of the zip ties around her wrists and ankles, then led him outside. Things were easier to clean up outside.
“Justice, like lightning,” I forced him to speak. “Ever should appear, to few men’s ruin, but all men’s fear.” I gave that a second to sink in, before adding, “Now, let’s go down to the local zoo, find the wombat enclosure, and see how they like to play with Mr. Winky down there, eh?”
I’m not that bad of a guy, see? Turned over a new leaf after all. I mean, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t even let him get mauled enough by wombats to lead to his death. He has no one to blame but himself for falling into one of the pens and interrupting the giraffe mating going on there. Apparently, giraffes get real ornery when you interrupt them having sex. The same could be said of humans. But still, I technically didn’t kill him.
It’s hard to be the king. It’s even harder when you’re maybe-sorta-kinda trying to be a nicer person in the process. Perhaps I’ll hold off on declaring myself “God-Emperor” until I’m less confused.