******
"Why?" Michaels asked honestly, trying not to provoke the man with the gun.
Dunlevy's expression turned sour, "Why? Why? Why do you think, you impudent moron?" He threw his hands in a sweeping gesture. "Is this civilization? Is this life? Is all of this 'enlightenment' worth the price?"
Michaels narrowed his eyes. "What price?"
Dunlevy set his jaw, his round, bearded face intense with conviction. "The destruction of human dignity."
Michaels very nearly cut loose a laugh at the ridiculous statement, but he stifled it and covered by putting on an incredulous look. "What are you talking about?
Dunlevy seemed almost too eager to jump on his soapbox. "Society, my dear Gregory! Look around!" He swept his arms around, as though the entire city could be seen from inside the office. "Our system, our way of life, the isolationism that started everything is based upon the assumption that certain people are more valuable than others!"
"Well, yes, but-"
Dunlevy continued, heedless of the interruption. "But it's not true. You can't create some arbitrary means of expressing superiority; it is complete nonsense! Not that it matters, our methods are barely viable as they are."
Michaels narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Dunlevy leaned forward. "It's about wealth and power! They don't care about genetics or intellectual superiority. It's not advancing the path of human evolution. Hell, if Wresh gets control, it will only be about controlling all aspects of a person. Their every thought and action, accountable and predictable." He straightened up, a smug look spreading on his face. "Even as it is now, the ranking system is based on extrinsic qualities and material possession." He pointed at Michaels. "Even intellect and trade-skills garner you, what? A tiny apartment you never see? Hours upon hours of work that you despise?"
Michaels scoffed. "Despise? My work contributes to the good of society."
Dunlevy extended out his arm holding the gun and took a step forward, threatening, "Your work ruins lives!" he snarled angrily. "Stripping people not only of their willpower, but their basic ability to reproduce? Turning them into mindless slaves? Taking away everything that makes them people?" Michaels took a step back, clenching his teeth. "Tell me: how is that good for anyone?"
Michaels opened his mouth, but Dunlevy didn't give him a chance to answer. "No!" he shouted. "Providing servants for slothful aristocrats does not count."
Michaels held his silence, scowling. Dunlevy's face reddened as he spoke. "Your torture of lives and human dignity is justification enough for your punishment." He shook his head. "I ought to kill you right now."
Dunlevy brought his other hand up, aiming the pistol at Michaels' head. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he paused, considering. Michaels only stared back, trying to still the trembling in his hands and the rapid beating of his heart. This is it, he thought. He's going to kill me.
Dunlevy didn't fire. The weapon pulled back to his hip, and he smiled. "But not just yet. Unlike the High Inquisitor and Citizen One, I see certain value on your talents."
"Talents?"
"Oh yes, my dear Gregory. You are a brilliant man, and your work with the mental cleansing and conditioning methods, as horrific and barbaric though they are, is a clear reflection of that."
"So you're… not going to kill me?"
Dunlevy narrowed his eyes. "We'll see. What I need to know is if you believe there is a viable method to reverse the cleansing. To restore the lives you've ruined."
The analytical portion of Michaels' mind considered the possibility, almost momentarily forgetting about the gun trained on him. It wasn't something he had extensively thought about before. He rubbed his chin, "I… I'm not sure."
The rotund man downcast his eyes. "Then I'm afraid you're not of any further use. Goodbye." He raised the weapon once more.
"Wait!" Michaels threw up his hands. Dunlevy hesitated. "It… it might be possible."
Dunlevy cocked his head. "I'm listening." He didn't lower the weapon.
Michaels' statement had been a bluff. He hadn't the faintest clue whether or not he'd be able to reverse the slightest bit of the conditioning. However, he really didn't want to die. He stammered, "W-with a proper sensory stimulus," he was grasping at straws, "a-along with drug therapy… I-I… I could d-develop something that could work to reverse the process."
Dunlevy eyed him warily for a moment, then his face broke into a broad grin. "There, you see? I knew you could be counted upon!" He lowered the weapon once more. "He wanted to have you all eliminated, but I told him you were too valuable an asset to waste."
"He? Who is he?" Michaels almost didn't want to know. Probably some figment of his demented imagination, he thought.
Dunlevy continued beaming, speaking with an almost reverent tone. "His name is Elliot, and he is going to reorganize this regime, restoring its humanity and purpose."
Michaels frowned. "This man, he's…" he hesitated, uncertain to how tactful he needed to be, "he's the one you… assisted, isn't he?" Michaels was unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. "He's from down below? One of… them?"
The other man scowled. "Haven't you listened? There is no inferiority, no filth; we were all the same." Dunlevy clenched his fist. "Just as many criminal and working class ascended as were left behind. Who knows how many, brilliant and otherwise, declined out of fear of the regime or lack of opportunity? It doesn't mean they are any less of people! Don't you see? The only reason for separation was to have an excuse for the perception of superiority!" Dunlevy was almost pleading for Michaels to believe him.
Michaels sighed, not convinced. "Fine, whatever, let's say that you're right. Then who is this Elliot, and why is he so important?"
The near-reverence seeped back into Dunlevy's voice, making Michaels wonder even more about his sanity and stability. "Below, they called him Elijah. He engineered everything that's happened in the last few days, planning it for years. He unified the factions of Old Haven, and now he's brought them here to the surface to end this society of intolerance."
"Okay, but, who is he?" Michaels grasped for a better question. "Where exactly did he come from?"
"Here," Dunlevy spread his hands out, "he was one of us."
Michaels raised an eyebrow. "A Citizen?"
"Oh yes, and a very important one." Dunlevy spoke seriously. "He designed the technology responsible for dozens of things; the power grid, even the sterilization field."
"Then why have I never heard of him?" Michaels narrowed his eyes. "Why was he in down below?"
Dunlevy frowned. "He was exiled, and he never told me exactly why. Even any information about him in the archives was erased or never existed."
"And you just blindly followed him, believing everything he said?" Michaels didn't believe even Dunlevy would be that stupid. "He probably made it all up! How can someone have been so important yet completely unknown?"
The bearded man shook his head. "He knew so much. Our history, the council, details about our security, the sterilization field, everything." He shrugged. "When he first contacted me, I didn't believe him. I thought it was merely a ploy by Wresh to weed out dissention." His eyes developed a far away look. "Yet with everything he said, the things he knew… I started to believe."
As Dunlevy lost himself in the memories of those interactions, describing them as though in a dream, Michaels considered the things Dunlevy had said about the man. Simply by accomplishing as much as he had in recent days, Michaels admitted to himself that this Elijah, if he or any one individual had truly orchestrated it, had proven himself quite capable. Michaels didn't, however, believe in any altruistic intentions, no matter what Dunlevy said. If this man is really as important as Dunlevy thinks, why has he come back, and what does he want?
Uprising Page 92