Darkness outside. From the expanse of his office, the Facilitator gazed down at the city spread below. Orange lights twinkled. A busy machine.
It was his. They were entwined. Both products of this still young, brave new millennium.
He held a powerful secret. Held it and knew how to keep it. At any cost. Just like a thousand predecessors. It was a secret born of millennia of social experimentation, refining, conditioning – almost perfect.
He was interrupted by a rap at his door. He sighed. He keyed the intercom.
“Come in, Max.”
Max entered, carrying a red file under his arm. Unusual. Max gave nothing away.
Excellent control. Or did…
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