Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

nothing is forbidden and experimentation is running wild. We know everything about how to alter the body, and not nearly enough about how such changes affect the soul. The Humanity. We have a dozen different sexes now, group minds, human/animal combinations. Memes are fashions, and minds swap bodies at will, wearing different forms like suits.”
    “You’re such a sweet old-fashioned thing, Dom,” said Glory, smiling for the first time. “It’s not all bad. Body change has enabled us to explore the universe. We walk upon worlds we could never have experienced before, because terraforming would have destroyed their true nature. We breathe poison, stand erect under the heaviest gravities, swim through gas worlds.”
    “That’s not why they change their bodies on Heartworld,” Dominic said stubbornly. “Change is all the rage these days, for the thrill, for the kick, for the experience. We are all so desperate for new experiences. When nothing is forbidden, where do you go for cheap thrills and the sick little joys of sin? Everything is possible now, and that is why the Empire is falling apart. There are too many factions, subgroups, heretical beliefs . . . No consensus is ever possible. That’s why Parliament became a joke; because there are just too many positions, beliefs, philosophies. The only real authority comes from the Emperor, damn his immortal soul, and his Praetorian Guard. More and more they usurp prerogatives that belong to the Investigators and the Defenders. Society is fragmenting, and the center cannot hold. Humanity is divided by its own freedoms and appetites. Already many of the border worlds have rejected Heartworld authority, and fallen back into barbarism.”
    Glory looked sharply at Owen. “Is this your doing? Are you affecting Dom in some way, with your future powers? He doesn’t normally talk so much, or so freely.”
    “It’s true,” said Dominic. “I don’t.”
    “Nothing to do with me,” said Owen. “I think . . . you’ve both been waiting for someone you could talk to. Someone who’d listen. Perhaps I can help, now that I’m here. In my own time, I led a rebellion that brought about a Golden Age. Or so everyone keeps telling me . . .”
    Glory shook her head shortly. “No. We have our orders, our responsibilities. You will be held here, while we inquire for further instructions. After the devastations of the Mad Mind, we cannot take chances with any visitors from your future.”
    “But he doesn’t belong here,” Dominic said stubbornly. “Not with these . . . transgressors.”
    “Who have you got here?” said Owen. “What could still be a crime, with the freedoms you have now?”
    “As ingenuity expands possibilities, crime flourishes,” said Glory. “The House of Correction holds body-swap terrorists, personality cancers, talent thieves, cult leaders who spread enforcement memes to gather new followers. Gender terrorists, who try to create new sexes by experimenting on unwilling victims.”
    “And Ansel deLangford,” said Dominic. “Our latest arrival. Head of the Thrillkill Cult. He encouraged his many followers to consider murder as a work of art. The more complex, the more grotesque, and the more extreme, the better. His followers vied to present him with ever greater atrocities, but he was always the worst of them all. He specialized in murders whose foul and awful nature destroyed the minds and souls of the victims’ friends and families. The Thrillkill Cult wiped out whole subspecies and cultures, in the name of their perverted art, before we finally shut them down. Psychopathic kick killers, dancing and singing through the chaos of a falling Empire. But he is ours now, at last, and we will squeeze every last piece of information out of him, so that every last vestige of his cult will die with him.”
    “You’re never this chatty when it’s just me,” said Glory. She looked at Owen. “Any questions?”
    “Yes,” said Owen. “Why are you covered in pink metal?”
    And that was when all the alarms in the world went off at once. Sirens and bells and a hell of a lot of flashing lights. While Owen was trying to look in every direction at once, Glory and Dominic looked quickly at the wall screens and then hurried over to the main console. The views on the monitor screens had stopped their shifting to concentrate on a series of cell doors sliding ponderously open, one after another, and wild shouting people spilling out into steel corridors. The