The sun had set and the sky was dark, although, in the desert, the stars shone with an intensity resembling oncoming traffic from cars miles away, rushing towards them.
“You—meaning humanity,” Lasseter drawled, nodding his head towards Paul,” will never get to the stars with your religion. It’s the last relic of the primitive mind and needs to be eradicated before you can move on.”
The others peered from their sleeping bags, eyes heavy.
Akira chuckled. Her voice reverberated throughout the cave like the sound of soft cooing of doves.
“Religion, ya see, government and corporations are all branches of the same tree,” Lasseter continued, slowly crawling into his own sleeping bag, the moonlight behind him creating a halo as it reflected off his gray hair.
“Cut down the right trunk, and they all fall.”
“And how do we do that?” Billy-Bob propped himself up on his elbow, his biceps flexing, listening intently.
“It’s starts with her,” he head nodded towards Akira.
“Yea, the baby.”
“Humans are short lived,” Akira cackled, her voice piercing the night.
“Most of your lives are wasted re-learning what previous generations have already been taught. Your schools take too much time, cost too much money—and most of what is taught are mostly lies—or facts that are so outdated, it’s no wonder you insects fail to evolve.”
She pointed her finger at Paul, as if blaming him for everything. Paul sat up, cocked his head to the side.
“Who you calling insects?” Billy-Bob’s fist clenched.
“Your lies get passed from one generation to the next, making you worse than insects!” Her hands came together in a semi-circle in front of her chest, her fingernails extending, razor sharp.
Billy-Bob slumped against the cave wall, but his eyes never left hers.
“How you plannin’ on changing all this…”
“…asked the soldier from a generation of soldiers who were taught to believe they there were right and just and proud…” she interrupted fiercely, “…but who flushed their short-lived lives away for nothing…for some sense of purpose and glory…”
Billy-Bob forced a grin.
“You really know how to piss a guy off. Is this another one of your super powers?”
His hand reached down to his right side brushing his thigh, where his Glock was normally holstered.
A lifelong habit.
“She’s right,” Lasseter interrupted. “For who has honor but a man who died a-Wednesday.”
He laughed out loud, his gray hair shining in the moonlight. He didn’t give a shit if anyone understood his literary reference. He’d spent most of his life talking to himself anyway.
(Yeah, not finished. Having trouble getting in front of the computer lately, but that will be fixed soon. Thanks for reading.)