The Human Instrumentality Experiment
Dedicated to the Girl I Promised I'd write the world for;
"What if everything you ever knew about the human mind was all just a facsimile created by those who wish to hide the truth that they have discovered? What would you do if you found out, would you shout the news to the world? Or be trapped by the fear that this truth wrought? What if everything that has happened to man since the dawn of days has all been punishment for eating from the fruit of knowledge, or perhaps it's all been a test for this race to redeem itself? You see, Humans are special; I don't care what anyone says about our race being a mistake or a beautiful accident. It would be possibly in theory of course, but when put up against the near infinite universe, why have we not found any other race like our own, be it alien or otherwise. That's the thing about humans. The reason we can't figure them out is because it's impossible, not hard. Impossible. Human emotion is what drives any form of interaction, or communication between individuals. But, what happens when emotion is taken out of a human and replaced with a quote natural unquote instinct to survive over all else? You see now I'm sure that this is the reason for the Human Instrumentality Experiment, to see what a human really is. To prove once and for all that humans are different that any other species in the universe, that we really are special."
"So, the experiment of yours, what is it?"
"Are you familiar with Dystopia Mr. President?"
"You mean like the opposite of a Utopia?"
"Not quite, Dystopia comes from the same root as Utopia but isn't a completely anti perfect society, which would be the opposite of Utopia, Dystopia is instead a perfect society built on impossibly amoral circumstances."
"I see, and what does that have to do with me?"
"Well Mr. President, I need you to sign off on the Human Instrumentality Experiment so we can get it underway."
"You're asking me to endorse your sick experiment that will cost the lives of who knows how many innocent lives. Innocent American lives."
"Not asking unfortunately, you don't have a choice." The man pulled a small automatic Pistol from his coat pocket and pointed it at the chest of the most powerful man in the world, the President of the United States of America. The president stood up and shouted for his security, but no one came and several moments passed before he timidly reached for the pen.
"Thank you for being reasonable Mr President. I'm glad we were able to work this out in the end. And I'm glad you finally realized who is really in control here." The man continued to hold the gun until the President signed off on his paper. He then snatched up the paper and quickly turned to leave.
"And you'll learn why you don't mess with American lives." The President jumped up and pulled a gun from his desk and fired several shots into the back of the man who was only moments before antagonizing him. The bullets shot clean through the man and into the wall of the oval office. The man stumbled, but then almost immediately continued walking towards the door.
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to try a lot harder than that to make this problem go away Mr. President." The man called back over his shoulder. "My name is Abel. And, now is not my time to die." The blood stopped flowing from the gun wounds and Abel opened the door and left the President in a state of fear and awe.