***
The sun. It sounded so friendly and homely. However, it was just a star local to earth, a big nuclear explosion like so many nuclear explosions going on in the universe right now. It was currently shooting amber beams into the wisps of blue cloud above them. Paulie handed the depleted bottle of rum to Frances; he drunkenly traced the words on the label with a finger. Máximo Extra Añejo.
“This is nice stuff,” Frances mumbled. Paulie laughed, making the park bench wobble.
“I should think so. Apparently, very expensive.”
“Doesn’t that freak you out? We can get whatever we want? This is,” Frances swung the bottle around dangerously, “way out of my league!”
“No.” Paulie took the bottle and gulped from it. “Money’s nothing, after all. Just a way to keep control.”
“Yeah, and we don’t own a single penny between us!”
“Yeah. I guess.” Paulie picked at his fingers. “We are broke, yet control everything, and can have anything. Ain’t that a bitch?”
“What am I going to do, Paulie? The Shareholders are going to take over, aren’t they? This virus is going to kill everything, then the Shareholders will take over everything that’s left.”
“You need to start culling the flock.”
“I can’t just kill.” Frances wavered, dizzy with drink.
Paulie sighed, finished the bottle and threw it into the road. It smashed loudly. “Look at it this way. If you do diddly-squat, everything dies and you fail. If you start culling, some of the herd survives and you succeed. We rebuild, everything goes back to normal”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Frances.
“It is!” exploded Paulie. “It is exactly that simple! Stop thinking about it!”
“You’re wrong,” replied Frances quietly. “Even if I do cull a percentage, say 30%, what’s going to happen to the rest?”
“They live happy lives, ignorant of the threat we’re trying to save them from.”
“Except for the ones who are picked as food for these monsters.”
“As a whole, we’re saving them.”
“Individually,” countered Frances, “we’re selling them out. And ourselves.”
“You don’t know these bastards,” said Paulie. “We took control of the world to save it from them. If it wasn’t for nukes, we wouldn’t even have the choice.”
“Must have…been terrible,” slurred Frances.
“It was. It is. And it’ll never stop. So it’s best that everyone worries about paying bills and dieting and politics in the world that we control, so that they are ignorant about the reality of life.”
“What, that there are aliens?”
“No,” replied Paulie and lit up a cigarette, “That everyone is simply food. Food for a superior race.”