Birth of a Monster (25 page)

“A chapter where, like a forest’s
rebirth after being cleansed by fire, the surviving citizens of our
city become more prosperous and more engaged in their community
than at any previous time in Sivingdel’s history. Let a new
generation of citizens aspire to become policemen, to become
councilmen, to become senators, to become mayors.

“The deaths of those public servants
embroiled in corruption has already served to demonstrate the
futility of the wicked path. And the righteous executions of the
outlaws before us today will serve as a reminder to all future
outlaws that your end, too, will be ignominious.

“Standing right here,” the
governor said, pointing to Crabs, whose eyes were nearly bulging
out of his head in anger and desperation before the display of
wanton hypocrisy and who was trying desperately to emit some sound
in spite of the gag that had been placed ferociously down his
mouth, “is a miscreant named Crabs. This . . .
bandit
is the mastermind of the
dastardly wicked acts that have rained down upon our republic like
a plague. But, today, he stands before you, ready to submit to the
justice of the state and having prepared a written confession of
his crimes. Let us thank him for this final, and perhaps, isolated
act of charity that he has committed before going to meet his
maker.”

A sober murmur of agreement could be
heard from the crowd. Almost too low of a murmur, because for an
instant, Crabs’ redoubled efforts to scream in spite of the gag
produced a sound too loud for the governor’s comfort.

However, the crowd went wild, cheering
and hollering, when the governor waved them farewell and retired to
a seat on the edge of the gallows where he could watch the action
up close.

A severe, humorless man then approached
the audience and said mechanically:

“Confession of Crabs, real name
unknown.

“‘
I have lived a short and
nasty life. I was baptized into crime at so young an age I cannot
remember a time where I understood or appreciated the difference
between right and wrong. My malicious cunning brought me success in
the underworld, catapulting me to kingpin status and putting me on
par with the mayor and several city councilmen in terms of
power.

“‘
My arrogance became so
overwhelming that when the mayor asked me to destroy evidence
related to a corruption investigation Chief Benson was conducting
on him, I sent my thugs in broad daylight to burn the police
headquarters to cinders just in case there was any paperwork there
on me I wouldn’t take too kindly to having presented in court
someday.

“‘
I then panicked, afraid
the mayor and several of his fellow criminal associates—which
included a senator, two city councilmen, and a private
detective—would rat me out. So, I had them killed too.
Additionally, I ordered several of my fellow scoundrels, all of
whom stand with me on the scaffold today, to kill two brave federal
agents for refusing to accept my bribe offer. They did the deed
without a moment’s hesitation or reflection.

“‘
I know my life is about
over now, so I hope you all will forgive me, and I hope Kasani does
too.’”

The stern orator stood directly in
front of Crabs, which served to block most of his rebellious and
indignant squirming and violent facial contortions, all of which
indicated he was as repentant as a wolf licking its bloody lips
with pleasure.

“Execute sentence!” the orator then
said.

CREAK, CREAK, CREAK, CREAK,
CREAK!

The sound of one trapdoor after another
opening in rapid succession filled the air, followed quickly by the
sound of snapping necks as the men’s bodies reached the ends of
their ropes.

The crowd cheered wildly, with a
notable exception.

Mr. Simmers, near the front of the
audience, watched somberly as the instrument of the state executed
the traitors in his ranks with full public and legal backing,
though his large, fake moustache changed his appearance so
drastically not even Crabs recognized him.

Chapter 46

Many times one has been said to “hit
rock bottom,” whether it be because of the loss of a job, the
termination of a relationship, the death of a spouse, or some other
calamity. While in many cases, no doubt the powerful metaphor has
been properly employed for the pathetic situation, in others
hyperbole has stretched it and seen it used for almost any scenario
involving a mild degree of unpleasantness.

In the present case of Senator
Hutherton, few would question the appropriateness of saying that
the once proud statesman had indeed hit such a shocking low,
several weeks prior to the present scene, that few metaphors could
be applied to it with exaggeration.

Though he had once used Smokeless Green
for the occasional “edge,” it had quickly become a source of
recreation and later an essential nutrient for basic functionality.
From there, his use only became more dire.

When, Robert, his oldest servant, a man
in his mid-sixties, witnessed Lord Hutherton—as he was usually
called in the house—go on a six-day binge of green powder sniffing
without eating so much as a morsel and not sleeping a wink, he
decided it was time for a tough intervention before his master gave
himself a stroke or a heart attack and left him and the rest of the
servants unemployed.

Hutherton had kicked, screamed, spit,
and cussed as Robert picked the man up like a bratty young child
and carried him towards what had been known in Hutherton’s younger
days as “The Calm Room.” Having been Hutherton’s tutor from the
time Hutherton was a small child, he had been authorized by the
elder Hutherton to chastise his young brat however he saw fit short
of blows.

When Hutherton would tear up his
homework, scream at the top of his lungs, or writhe on the ground
like an angry snake, he would take the tiny terror and lock him in
the closet for a good hour or two beyond the cessation of shouting
and banging on the walls.

For the really bad tantrums, the ones
that lasted a day or more, he would pass food and water through a
slot under the door like a zookeeper with a dangerous
tiger.

In the end though, the result was
always the same—a reasonably contrite Hutherton, who would not need
a repeat dose for at least a month.

Needless to say, this childish
punishment had long since ceased, but Robert, like any man faced
with great adversity, fell back on old habits to resolve the trying
situation. He grabbed the gaunt senator—whose bloodshot eyes with
black splotches underneath looked at him furiously and indignantly
while he threatened immediate termination and even death for the
servant—and, ignoring the invective, hauled him off like a bratty
child to The Calm Room and threw him in there like a dangerous
serpent he feared being bitten by upon release.

He then shut the door and soon after
pushed a chamber pot, a jar of water, and a tray of simple food
underneath the door.

What ensued over the next twenty-four
hours were threats so severe, and banging on the door and walls so
violent, that the elderly senator feared death would befall
everyone in the household if this thing were released. But, acting
on a hunch, he decided maybe it wouldn’t be safe to separate the
senator from his green friend too abruptly.

He knew more or less the size of the
small mountains of powder his master sucked up his nose like an
elephant with water, and he decided maybe he should provide
something along the lines of half that amount.

When he did so, he did hear a momentary
exclamation of gratitude, but later in the evening a furious
tantrum recommenced.

He remained resolute in refusing to
acquiesce to his master’s demands for more powder but did keep a
constant vigil by the door, his ear ready for any sound that seemed
more like a cry of genuine medical distress rather than a greedy
demand for licentious pleasure.

Throughout the night, he was awakened
many times by unnerving groans and shouts, but none quite seemed to
convince Robert to give the senator more green powder.

He did some thinking through the night,
however, and decided that going forward this would need to be a
meticulous process. He obtained some measuring cups from the
kitchen and inserted therein a quantity of green powder he was
certain was just slightly less than what he had given the senator
the day before. He then wrote down the exact quantity, with the
plan of reducing it methodically.

As he shoved it underneath the door, he
said to his master, “Use it wisely. It’s all you’re getting until
tomorrow morning!”

He heard some quick sniffing ensue,
followed by a meek “Thank you,” and was then rewarded by a stenchy
chamber pot being shoved towards him.

Robert said with a smile, “You’re
welcome, Senator Hutherton. We need you back in your five senses,
or the lot of us are going to be without jobs!”

The senator rewarded him with a
moderate chuckle but nothing more.

Threats resumed sporadically over the
ensuing weeks while Robert kept the senator locked in The Calm
Room, but it seemed enough sobriety had been obtained that the
senator realized his faithful servant was doing him an immense
favor.

Occasionally, the senator attempted
guile, engaging Robert in pleasant conversation and then suggesting
the two of them go horse-riding together.

Robert told the senator flatly, “When
you go one full week without one sniff of that green poison, I’m
going to let you out of here and not a day before. And then, when
you’ve got all five of your senses back, I’ll let you out, and I’ll
be at your mercy.”

This brought on a brief tantrum, but
the tantrums were becoming smaller in intensity and shorter in
duration.

Robert did acquiesce to providing the
daily news to his master, and once the news about the police
station burning came out, the senator had told Robert, “No more
green powder! I’ve got to get out of here as quickly as
possible!”

Robert had gladly acquiesced at first,
but when, later in the day, he had heard horrible vomiting that
sounded like a man in his last few minutes on earth, he had pushed
a dose of Smokeless Green underneath the door, putting the senator
back on the methodical taper.

“Some things just take time, Mr.
Senator,” Robert said. He heard sniffing, and then the vomiting
passed.

A major transformation was underway in
Senator Hutherton’s mind. He had become aware of the dangerous hold
Smokeless Green had acquired on him as he tiptoed slowly towards
full sobriety, his daily dose now a mere line the thickness of his
pinky.

He realized that, paradoxically, while
he had begun taking Smokeless Green to acquire greater control of
those around him through the enhanced alertness and energy he had
with which to manipulate them, he had gradually become a shadow of
his former self, weaker and less guileful, even with a large amount
of green powder in him, than he had once been completely
sober.

But even as his daily dose became the
thickness of a sewing needle, this did not cause a change of heart
with regards to SISA.

Gentlemen were simply a different
breed. They had servants like Robert who would put them back in
line when they lost self-control. The common man did not. And if
even a man of Hutherton’s breeding could reach a nadir like the one
he had reached several weeks ago, he shuddered to think of what
would happen to a commoner addicted to this powerful
substance.

His belief in SISA was reinvigorated,
and he longed to escape his temporary cell so that he could
introduce legislation pumping up the National Drug Police’s ranks
now while the political climate would be right, after which he
would flood that godless city of Sivingdel with federal agents who
would get to the bottom of the recent crimes.

He was not going to rest easy while a
mere governor concluded the case closed re the deaths of his two
NDP agents. Not by a long shot.

Today, he had gone a week without any
green powder, and he said to Robert calmly but authoritatively,
“Robert, as your lord and master, I command you to open this door.
I am free of my temporary addiction and hereby resume plenary
command of my household.”

The door opened slowly, reflecting the
apprehension of the man opening it.

Senator Hutherton looked at Robert
soberly. “You have successfully discharged your duty,” he said
coldly.

Then, in an act Robert wouldn’t have
believed if he had heard it from a dozen witnesses, Hutherton
hugged him tightly, and whispered, “Thank you, Robert.”