The Keepers (or The Momentum). Page 3

  Chapter 2: The self-god.

  The crowd cheered on incessantly. “Rikki! Rikki! Rikki!” The most adored person in that generation of humanity. The king, in fact, of most of the population. Adored for his boldness, his explicitness, his loudness – his evilness. Bear in mind that what is evil to those on one side is the opposite to those on the other side. To those on his side, this evil person was good, and judging by his rating, was the epitome thereof. He was now thirty two years old. His ambition in life:

  “To F**k, eat, money, pussy, and f**k again”. The crowd cheered more loudly. On how he attained his wealth:

  “I f**ked my way to the top.” And on a god:

  “I don’t need a god. I am a god.” The crowd roared. “Rikki! Rikki! Rikki!”

  He viewed the audience. There was a certain feeling with him, a feeling of omnipotence, that with just an uplift of his hand, the audience would rise. Wilfully and arrogantly as would a king drunk in power, he raised his right hand and the crowd raised its roar and jumped higher. To him, up there on the stage, he was the only person. The rest, the crowd, was to him just a liquid, with its constituents indiscernible.

  If I throw a stone here, how far will the ripple go?, he asked himself.

  His feeling of omnipotence also suggested to him that if he lowered his hand suddenly, maybe the crowd would collapse.

  I am a god, he thought.

  Interlude 1: The Keepers.

  “Sir First, your plan with the orphan…I solemnly hope it works,” The First-rank-opp said solemnly.

  “Patience is a virtue,” The First replied.