True Life

"What is that?" he called out, forcefully tearing himself away from her and walking over to a stack of crates.

She lifted an eyebrow. "What is what?"

He picked up a small box. The logo on the cover was something he had seen nearly every day of his life. Something that he had grown to despise more than anything else.

Without thinking, he tore into the box and began yanking out the packing material.

"I hope you plan to pay for that, Gerald."

He pulled out a gaming helmet and held it out before her accusingly. "Ssykes makes True-Life?"

"Harec Toyline is one of our subsidiaries, but yes, it is part of the corporate umbrella."

His face twisted with disgust. "Do you know what this did to my people? Do you know how dangerous this thing is?"

"Dangerous? Pffftt, it's a children's game. Not even that popular anymore. We probably won't support it past next quarter."

"Yes, to aliens it's just a toy, but to humans, this thing is recklessly addictive."

"It wasn't made for humans. It was never designed with the human brain in mind. We had no way of knowing..."

Gerald threw the helmet to the ground, cracking the faceplate. The violence of it startled her. "But you didn't stop making it when you found out, did you?!"

She folded her arms before her. "No. Of course not. It was already alliance certified as safe, so we can't be held responsible for any side effects from its misuse."

The iciness of her response enraged him further.

"Misuse?"

"Yes, it was made for Veludens. For any other race to use it counts as misuse and voids the warranty."

Reaching up and grabbing his necklace, he tried to pray, but the words just wouldn't come.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," he forced himself to say, "but I don't think I can accept your donations."

She blinked. "Why not?"

"Because I'd really rather not owe you people anything."

She floated over to the waiting crates of vegetables. "You like to remain your own master. I can respect that. But, if you leave it here, this food will rot and go to waste."

Her ta'atu glowed and Gerald's mind was filled with the memories of the children at the orphanage.

She tucked a ringlet behind her ear. "I'm not asking you to do anything you wouldn't already be willing to do."

"But you're asking me to do it for you."

"If you chose to leave it here I won't stop you."

Gerald gripped his necklace even more tightly, threatening to break the leather strap. He was at war with himself. His disgust from years of neglect and resentment by a mother so hopelessly addicted she couldn't even bathe or feed herself. Everyone he had ever cared for, ever known— all their suffering, and this was the source of it. He wanted nothing more than to turn and leave this foul place, hurling a flippant last remark from his lips— a real zinger this time, and never thinking about it again.

But another part of him realized that doing so would solve nothing. No one's life would be improved. When he returned to the abbey, he would have to explain to Father K'Natarl that he had refused the donation out of foolish pride. Logically, it was obvious what he should do, but his emotions were too raw. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a river, impotently holding out his tiny arms and attempting to halt its course.

Cha'Rolette watched from a distance as Gerald struggled with himself. The air next to her rippled and suddenly Jonarl was standing there next to her.

"Keeping an eye on me?" she asked, sending her voice to him only.

"Always."

"You know, it's funny. It's the same everywhere you go. Everyone thinks they're above taking dirty money, and everyone thinks they are incorruptible, but that's because they don't realize how our family works. It's simple really, you just create a series of situations where they feel they have no choice, and slowly lead them away from the light. If you do it right they won't even notice until one day they wake up and wonder how in the world they got there."

"So what's your angle?" asked Jonarl.

"I offer to pay him to do something he would have done anyway. Over the next few weeks, I'll increase the donations to his mission, which will encourage them to expand their operations. Then, just as he realizes that they cannot sustain their new size without my contributions, I'll name him our liaison to the Soeck temple. He'll have to accept or shut down their new branches. He'll do photo ops at charity drives, groundbreaking at the new homeless shelter, all that sort of dopey stuff the reporters can't get enough of. He'll become the poster boy for Ssykes charity work. The big doofus will make us look like friggin' saints. By the time he realizes what is happening, it will be too late. Heck, those stupid monks will end up owing me money before this is done."

"What are you going to do?" asked Jonarl.

"I'll buy the property rights to their temples as a reward for all the good P.R. work he does under the guise of relieving them of having to pay property taxes. Then, in three months, I spring the trap. I'll casually ask Gerald to recant the things he's been preaching on campus. That's when he'll finally realize that he has no choices left. If he doesn't recant, I'll close every location, his entire church will collapse on this world, and all those people he cares so much for will starve."

She turned to Jonarl, smug satisfaction on her face. "And the best part is, all it will cost me is a few pallets of second-hand vegetables, and a couple of old warehouses to be renovated. I'll destroy his life for pocket change."

The bodyguard snickered. "You really are Mr. Ssykes' daughter, aren't you? He used the same trick on the Precentor Martial last year."

Her face pinched. "Of course, I am his daughter. I would think that I have proven that many times over by now."

"Not to him, you haven't."

It was then that Gerald walked back over to them holding a box of unwashed carrots.

"You're doing it with me," he said, shoving the box into her hands.

"Ewww, I'm not touching dirt," she gasped, dropping the box and wiping her hands off on Jonarl's suit.

"I've made my decision. I'll only accept this donation if you help me deliver it to the orphanage" said Gerald.

"What kind of bargaining posture is this? You don't get to make conditions on accepting a hand-out."

Gerald pushed past the pain in his eyes and folded his arms. "You showed me your world, so it's only fair that you let me show you mine."

Cha'Rolette crinkled her cute little nose and looked to Jonarl. "Can you believe this guy?"

The bodyguard chuckled. "Looks like he made you an offer you can't refuse."

"Very Funny."