Of Superior Design

by Matt Rogers

  Chapter 23

  The border was on edge, two opposing sides on alternate lands facing off over the accusation of illegitimacy. Everything was going according to plan except for one small detail.

  “They’re not doing anything!”

  “I can’t believe this!”

  The border had been closed with relative ease. A fence had been in the process of completion for some time and reinforcements were brought in to close any gaps. Both America and Mexico were at loggerheads, neither side ready to start something which could get out of hand before either was prepared. The two countries were wary for reasons particular to their own status. Mexico, while a thriving civilization was still behind the United States in its military capabilities. America, while still a majority of ancestors from European stock contained within its borders a vast number of citizens who were of Latin descent. While Mexico had no illusions about their ability to win a war with the government to their north, the north themselves had no illusions as to what would happen if they decided to invade their neighbor to the south. It wasn’t that the citizens who emigrated from South America were any more inclined to fight for their previous heritage as it was they had no desire to see their new-found country act like an imperialistic bully and take by force what they could not gain through treaty. The politicians were in a state of dismay because whichever way they looked public resentment reared its head. If they chose the side of war their chances of reelection were above zero but not by much. If they chose to take the peaceful way out the hawks at their primaries would eat them alive. So they did what politicians did and ran for cover.

  “Are they… are they just going to sit there?” Vivian asked.

  “Did we misjudge them again?” Trudy pondered

  “Is there any pot-roast left?” Phillip wondered.

  The family of LeTorque were in the kitchen watching the twenty-four hour a day, seven days a week news programming which was currently under quite a bit of stress for nothing was happening but eyes were watching so they needed something to fill the time.

  “Hello everyone, this is Nick Price with the Channel Five News Team’s continuing coverage of the tense stand-off between Texas and Mexico. We now go live to our award-winning border-war reporter, Tim Tidbit. Tim, are you there?”

  “Yes, Nick, I’m here.”

  The television showed the young reporter standing in field, surrounded by men in camouflage who had the look of complete boredom on their faces.

  “Tim, can you give is the latest up-to-the-minute information you have on the brewing problem down there?”

  “Sure, Nick. Well, as the viewers can see we have a lot of military personnel standing around down here but it appears we’ve run into some sort of old-fashioned stalemate. Neither side appears willing to provoke the other except for the occasional catcall across the border zone. The real problem which seems to be arising is that of boredom and caffeine.”

  “Caffeine?”

  “Yes, Nick, caffeine. We have been questioning our brave military men and women on their views of the brewing conflict and came up with some interesting opinions on the matter.”

  “What were those, Tim?”

  “Our coffee is horrible, Nick. Apparently the leaders at the top forgot one small detail when they closed the border; we are terrible at growing coffee beans. I have witnessed firsthand the acrid flavor the fine men and women of our armed forces are being forced to drink and must say if something is not done soon we may have another problem on our hands.”

  “What’s that, Tim?”

  “Tea, Nick, we may be forced into drinking tea for breakfast.”

  It wasn’t the media’s fault. The border had all the makings of instant visual carnage if only someone would make a move. They couldn’t very well leave for if they did and suddenly fighting broke out their rival stations would beat them to the punch and they’d be hard pressed to answer for their lack of trust in the bloodlust of the two great peoples. The only problem was no one was doing anything. Mexico was more than willing to wait out the whole conflict because they felt certain they’d eventually prevail in the World Court and Texas couldn’t advance its agenda because the rest of the country was slightly worried about invading a nation which held a thirty percent stake of cultural heritage in its own population.

  “What do we do now?” Trudy asked.

  “Maybe we should blow up something on Mexico’s side” Vivian answered.

  The two Vamps sat alone at the table because the Wolves were hungry and couldn’t wait any longer. They were at the refrigerator deciding on what to do.

  “Ham?”

  “Had it this morning for breakfast.”

  “Turkey?”

  “Had it for lunch.”

  “Hamburger?”

  “Had it for dinner.”

  The poor Wolves were running out of options while the two Vampires were considering battle plans when the Alien from Heaven entered their domicile.

  “Hello, everyone!”

  “Nat!” Vivian yelled and did her normal routine of allowing the creature with molecular digitalized form the pleasure of a hug. Nat couldn’t help grinning the whole time.

  “Hello, Nat” Trudy said as the monitor sat down.

  “Hello, Mistress” he answered back politely.

  He didn’t know which one he liked better, the exuberant blonde or elegantly refined red-head. He figured one day he’d have the scientists work on development of a Superior with both traits and wondered if they ‘d be compatible or if they’d cancel each other out. Heaven had been tinkering for so long the answer was probably already in its database but, well, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe no one had come up with the brilliant idea of personality placement and particularization? Maybe the notion of two types of demeanor had never occurred to the lab rats experimenting with molecular manipulation?

  “Have you been watching the news?” Trudy asked.

  “Why, yes I have, Mistress, and it appears your work is not yet complete.”

  She glanced at him with her ivy eyes and Nat could tell the intelligence behind the green orbs was one of shrewd cunning. She was the ring leader, the one who implemented ideas with meticulous planning. He could guess she was, at that very moment, deciding how much and how little she was willing to reveal to him but he was okay with it because he didn’t care how they got there only that they arrived with a full complement and a willingness to improvise. He didn’t know what the Hoard’s capabilities were, no one knew, for the game dictated secrecy until the time was ripe for action.

  “They are a confusing breed, Nat” she said.

  “Yes, Mistress, they are definitely that” he admitted.

  The game, as far as he could tell, was actually quite simplistic in design. It would work due to the complexities which arose not from the plan but from those involved in the game. The inspiration had come from generations of warfare and involved what was labeled ‘appropriate response’. The reasoning was solid. Get the two countries fighting limited battles and while they were occupied hold a war of clans. It was luck which gave them the opportunity. America was, historically, an English outcast. Mexico, a Spanish one. Both England and Spain had their own history of warfare so the back door to a war between First and Third Clans was to involve America and Mexico. Ancestry was the combination to the lock. Spain had one with Mexico and England with America. If the two would just get off their hindquarters and begin killing each other the two clans could meet amidst the bloodshed and settle what should have been done before. It didn’t take a genius to figure the Spanish would supply Mexico with aid and the rest of northern Europe would probably side with America. Switzerland was out, of course, for they’d chosen to be neutral for so long they no longer retained the right to side with anyone. To Nat’s mind their neutrality was nothing but cowardice from a group of bankers’ intent on enriching themselves to the detriment of all others. The fact the other nations went along with their absurd notion they had no opinion on good or bad was, to him,
one of the most confusing things about Humans. They, at times, did things which were so patently idiotic he really did wonder how in the heck they lasted long enough to possibly destroy the world. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on for he saw in them the possibility of trouble. Nat didn’t like trouble. He liked tranquility and the last thing in the world Humans were was tranquil.

  “Nat?” Vivian asked from the seat to his left.

  “Yes, Mistress?”

  “How’s the Governor?”

  “He’s a moron.”

  “I know that. But how is he handling this?”

  The question was of a political nature so it contained many variables. The Governor, to Nat, was indeed a moron. A person of limited intellect and questionable morals. He was what the people had chosen to be their representative. Well, a few people, the ones who counted, the ones who ran the numbers and realized the situation; people were lazy. People would do the very least if left to their own choices so they were given said opportunity and encouraged to do the very thing they wished; stay at home during election time. Slight inconvenience turned out to be the answer. Make the process a little bit cumbersome, a tad annoying and the voters would stay away in droves to avoid what they already did not wish to do. Governor Austin Travis had been elected with the fewest percentage of eligible voters ever seen in the Lone Star State. He’d been the victor of apathy twice in a row and was hoping for a third. Unfortunately for him he was facing a challenge from an unlikely candidate in a State Representative from San Antonio named Manuel Noriega.

  Manuel had grown up in the streets of Laredo, a tough city on the border which was rife with crime, unemployment and Mexican-Americans. It was the Mexican-Americans who were the problem. For generations the stewardship of Texas had been won not at the polling places but at the pulpit. While it was illegal for churches to get involved in politics it was not illegal for those who attended the institutions of higher morality. Therefore, they held private meetings which held moral authority with religion’s blessings and decided who among the select few would hold the privilege of ruling the many. It wasn’t actually very difficult for the Governor’s predecessors for in the past most voters in the state were of European decent. They were all white, went to church and were elected by the very same. The problem the Governor was running into was the changing demographics of the very institutions designed to pick the leader of the greatest state in the union. The churches were turning Hispanic. With the influx of Latin Americans came a rise in the Catholic congregation and what was once a bastion of Baptist beliefs became a state in denial. Those who once held power could not understand why those who didn’t wanted change. They believed the state was performing wonderfully and to them the idea of someone not bred from their viewpoint was an abomination and mutant product of a religious denomination which ran afoul of proper beliefs. The Governor was in somewhat of a disadvantage, though, for while he wished to crackdown on the church siding with his rival he couldn’t because to do so would cause his own demise. He was still beholden to the people who elected him and since they were of the cross he couldn’t deny the holy places of worship their God given right to illegally intervene in the political process without cutting off the very basis of his power. If he denied the churches the right to pick the governorship then the office would go to the popular vote. If the popular vote ever chose their own representative then those who ruled before would rule no more. The numbers were too obvious, the divide too large for the outcome to be anything other than Mexican-American rule.

  “Oh, he’s handling it the way I suppose you’d think. He’s introduced a bill which would make it illegal to cast a vote without proper identification” Nat replied.

  “Proper identification?” Vivian inquired.

  “Yep, you’re going to need a driver’s license to vote if the bill passes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  Desired outcome was always the reason. Everywhere, in every nation where democratic ideals were practiced they ran up against the one thing they had little recourse for; those who vied for power were the least democratic people in the world. Voters were always given general powers which led them to believe they had a say in the process. The truth was anything but. Once a measure passed it was the implementation which actually caused the mischief. The voters couldn’t revolt, though, for they were the ones who gave it life and it was Human Nature which ruled the realm. How could it be possible for all of them to be wrong? It wasn’t, the process was the problem.

  “Well, the Governor’s got a little problem with the majority of his citizens” Nat replied.

  “What problem?” Vivian asked.

  “They’re mostly of Mexican descent. He’s running in a race against a man who has a historical heritage with the majority and he needs a trump card to even the odds.”

  “And a driver’s license is the trump card?”

  “Yes. Well, the obtainment of the card is the trump. The license itself is merely the ruse to allow the deal to take place.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s going to make it difficult for those with limited English to acquire the right to drive and thus the privilege to vote.”

  “Huh?”

  “A literacy test, Mistress, he’s going to involve a literacy test for the privilege of operating a motorized vehicle.”

  Generalized power was borne through the belief one was giving blessing to a rule which on the surface seemed perfectly reasonable. The ability to read road signs seemed like an obviously reasonable request and the Governor was using its premise to further his career. The plan was simple; offer up a bill which gave everyone the right to do what they secretly desired and remove those terrible drivers from their roadways. Road-rage was the catalyst and Human belief in self-determination the ace up the sleeve. The Governor’s advisors had relied on their fellow Humans to act accordingly and determine the reason for their congested roadways was not due to inadequate funding but instead a result of illiterate motorists causing mayhem through indecision.

  “Do you think it’ll pass?” the cute blonde inquired.

  “Oh, it’ll pass all right. Everyone voting on the thing already has their license and as we all know if you’ve already got something and can make it doubly difficult for another to acquire what you possess then you will always do so.”

  “Huh?”

  “People are selfish and self-righteous, Mistress. Once they’ve got something they will always do things to protect it. In the case of a driver’s license most voting on the measure will already possess the thing and since the bill will state if they already have their license they need not take the literacy test then the thought is the thing will pass easily.”

  “Why?”

  “Because people always think other people are the cause of their distress.”

  The Governor was relying on the public education system to help with his reelection. For decades the schooling system had been underfunded and inadequately staffed. He was banking on a citizenry of unlearned peoples to ease his minority in the electorate.

  “So he’s pushing for a bill which is aimed directly at the majority population in the state?”

  “Yep.”

  Vivian loved Humans for they were ever hypocritical. They were constantly saying one thing and then doing the exact opposite. It made them easy to manipulate.

  “Nat?” Trudy interrupted and the Alien turned his head to view the incredibly sexy Vamp.

  “Yes, Mistress?”

  “Did you get the impression the Governor was going to order hostilities to take place?”

  Nat was wondering when the question would arise. It was why he was there, after all.

  “No, Mistress, I’m afraid he won’t.”

  She looked at him with her lovely eyes and he couldn’t help but continue.

  “He’s actually sitting quite pretty at the moment. You see, the populace is getting what it wants. It’s got a show of force down at th
e border without any bloodshed. It’s giving him the appearance of a tough leader and as long as his poll numbers stay up he won’t do anything.”

  “His poll numbers are up?”

  “Yes. Well, with the right crowd they’re up. With the left they’ve never been lower but if he gets his way and the License to Vote Act passes he won’t need to worry about them.”

  “So he’s just going to do nothing?”

  “Yes, and he’s right pleased about it too.”

  Her look of annoyance amused Nat because he knew what she was; a dedicated Vampire with a good imagination and the greatest-looking pair of legs in the universe.

  “So unless something changes we’re not going to see any battles?”

  “Yes. Unless the situation is altered the outcome will remain the same and we’ll have a border without crossings. I’m sorry, Mistress, but I don’t believe your war with Mexico is not going to pass.”

  “It’s not a war with Mexico we’re looking for, Nat.”

  “it’s not?”

  “No, we want a war with Spain. We need European involvement if we’re to challenge First Clan for supremacy. Mexico is our link to Spain.”

  He saw the potential but felt the outcome would elude the goddess with blood-colored mane.

  “Mistress, I believe you may want to prepare a Plan B.”

  She glanced at him and he knew. She was always prepared. He should’ve guessed.

  “You’ve already got a Plan B, don’t you?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded her head.

  “If I turn on the television am I going to find out what it is?”

  Again a nod and smile so Nat got up, walked to the counter where the boob-tube resided and switched it on. The two Wolves at the refrigerator door were still air-conditioning the kitchen while pondering meal selection.

  “Hey, Nat?”

  “Yes, Phillip?”

  “What sounds better to you, fish or brisket?”

  “Why not both?”

  “Ooh! I like the way you think. Hey, George, Nat recommended…”

  “I’m right here, Phillip, I heard what he said.”

  “Well?”

  “I think I like the way he thinks also.”

  Nat smiled as the two beasts with unquenchable appetites removed a two-foot salmon and fifteen pound chunk of meat from the ice-box. He wondered for a second if they would take the time to cook them or just go to town pre-flame style. His thoughts suddenly changed when the commercial which had been playing was replaced with the face of a white, middle-aged man with brown hair, glasses and blue suit.

  “Hello folks, this is Nick Price with a Channel Five News Special Report. We have unconfirmed reports of trouble in Canada. We now go live to our sister-station across the northern border and its award winning news reporter, Wally Thornburg.”

  The scene shifted and another man’s face appeared.

  “Hello, Wally, are you there?”

  “Hiya, Nick! Yep, I’m here all right.”

  The man on the screen was standing in front of what looked like a mass of confusing metal frameworks with a tower directly behind him. It was dark so he was illuminated by the camera’s light.

  “Wally, can you confirm rumors of an explosion?”

  “Oh, yeah, we definitely had one of those, Nick” the friendly man said with a smile.

  The screen changed to once again show the local Channel Five anchorman but shouldn’t have for right then Nick Price, the face of the station was plucking a nose hair with a confused expression.

  Someone from the control room must have spoken in his ear for he looked up with consternation but the proud professional he was did not flinch from the pressure of public preening, no, he went right back on the offensive.

  “What? Oh… um, Wally, can you elaborate for our viewers what exploded?”

  The scene switched back to Canada.

  “You betcha I can! All right, here’s what we know now. Someone or something has blown up part of the Canadalaskan Pipeline.”

  The scene switched to Texas again but Nick was prepared, he sat there with a sincere look of interest on his televised visage.

  “Someone blew up the Canadalaskan Pipeline?”

  Canada again.

  “Yep! Well now, ya know, not the whole pipeline, just a part of the section which ran through our country here.”

  Texas.

  “Is there an oil leak, Wally?”

  Canada.

  “Oh yeah, there’s oil everywhere. It’s on the ground and in the trees and in those big ol’ buckets people keep around for nature watering.”

  Texas.

  “Nature watering?”

  Canada.

  “Yeah, that’s what we call it up here. It’s pretty cold so people can’t always go outside to the potty house so they use the big ol’ buckets and then take ‘em outside after doing their doody.”

  The channel switched again to reveal the newsman from Texas with an honest expression of amazement.

  “Um, Wally?”

  “Yep, still here, Nick.”

  “Um, can you please inform our viewers where you are?”

  Canada reappeared on the screen with Wally smiling bright, looking enthused and relaxed in front of eerie metal scaffolding looming ominously in the nighttime sky.

  “Oh, sure I can! We’re about halfway between Vancouver and Alaska on the west coast in a town called Sasquatch Sightings. We’re in front of the main petroleum cut off point at the corner of Big-Foot Boulevard and Yeti Way.”

  The screen stayed on the northern reporter as the southern one asked further questions.

  “I’m assuming you’re at the location because the oil cut-off station is there?”

  “Yep, this is where they cut off the switch so the oil would quit flowing onto our already spoiled landscape” he said with somewhat nostalgia.

  “Has anyone claimed responsibility, Wally?”

  “Nope, Nick, not yet, but people around here are already making their own speculations.”

  “Who are they speculating on, Wally?”

  “The speculation seems to split evenly between two possible culprits, Nick. One is the Abominable Snowman and the other is the French Linguistic Liberation League.”

  Nat shut the TV off for he’s seen enough and now considered what he’d heard. He turned to look at Trudy and his molecular heart actually jumped a bit for she was looking back, smiling. The smile was something he would gladly wipe out the entire race of Humans to see.

  “You blew up the Canadalaskan Pipeline?”

  “No, I’m sitting right here. How could I possibly blow up a pipeline in Canada and get back here in so little time?”

  She said it with such an adorably innocent expression Nat almost wished to keep up the charade.

  “You know what I mean, Mistress” he said instead.

  The smiled again and he realized poor Phillip had no chance of winning an argument if all she needed was a grin to melt hearts.

  “Yes, Nat, I know what you mean. We had the Winds blow up the pipeline.”

  “And the reasoning for that was?”

  “Well, if we can’t get the Spanish to bite maybe the French will nibble instead.”

  “Why would the French care if the Canadalaskan Pipeline was destroyed?”

  She gave him a second but he couldn’t see the connection.

  “They wouldn’t. The pipeline was for economic involvement. If we’re going to start a war we’ll need something to prime the pumps so to speak and a conveyor of liquid cash is a perfect target for French secessionists insisting the English proxy of America get off their land.”

  “But, once again, why would France care?”

  “Because they are about to feel an American backlash to French intervention.”

  “Huh?”

  “You should’ve left the news on, Nat” she said.

  “Why?” he inquired.

  “Because we also blew up the Statue of Liberty, Nat, and that k
ind of coincidence will definitely get both France and America’s attention.”