Locken stepped back to eye up his shot. As always, he was wearing his glasses. They looked like your average pair of nearsighted reading glasses, and most assumed that to be the case. His prescription was unique though. One day not long after he had reached maturity, Locken had been on his way to class at his all-boy prep school. The cold season neared and trees had begun to shed. The path was strewn with fallen leaves - brown, yellow, and purple. He lost his footing, and found himself face-first in a pile, eyes locked on to a patch of violet leaves. Annoyed and embarrassed, he attempted to stand, only to find his extremities growing numb. The numbness grew, and in moments his entire body began to shut down, unable to breathe and organ functions beginning to disrupt. Emergency care had just barely been able to save him and diagnostics were run. They found that Locken Flath had developed a peculiar condition. When his optic system was exposed to wavelengths between 380 and 450 nanometers, he entered in to a full body catatonia. Translation: Locken Flath was deathly allergic to purple.

  He blinked and looked to his wristband to analyze the topography of course. He was on Strixon, a moon of a planet in the Vega system. The moon was the premier site for the preferred leisure activity of the elites of the galaxy, golf. No one had yet figured out why the game had evolved independently on so many different worlds, but where there was intelligent life, there was almost always a variation of golf. The game was slightly different from civilization to civilization but it always consisted of smashing the bejesus out of a small object over long distances.

  An ancient, regal creature with one thick stump glided slowly up to the tee next. On his home world, the surface was actually a highly viscous liquid and his species moved around by sliding. He had no arms, but a club extended out of its abdominal area. He looked like a large glorified chess piece. It rocked itself feebly back and then forward and made light contact with the ball. It sprang off the tee straight ahead like a rocket.

  "Heck of a shot there Furdrick."

  Furdrick was the president of The Exchange. The Exchange was the main corporation that species used to transfer their local currencies into the galactic standard credits. The Exchange set prices and facilitated transactions. Unsurprisingly, he was offensively wealthy.

  The next one up was Hilda. Her people were as wide as they were tall, with tiny legs and thin spindly arms. While her people could walk, or it would be more accurate to say waddle, it was much easier for them to retract her extremities and roll like a big living ball. Hilda was the Premier of Atell, a planetary corpocracy that had developed and patented the technology which could open and close the space fold zones. Her influence was matched by few to none.

  The final member in their group was none other than Bixby, though he wasn’t actually playing. Few remained anywhere who intimidated Locken - but Bixby was one of them. When he had first become a member of the Syphon, no one had been more of a surprise for him to see listed amongst the roster. If you were to poll a group of a hundred, fifty would call him manifestation of good, and the other fifty the epitome of evil.

  He was the sole known survivor of a presumed otherwise extinct species. No one knew what happened to them, some even theorized that it was his own doing. He had become an businessman, renowned philosopher, and author of the controversial book, ’The Fallacy of Life’. The book was credited with both saving worlds, and bringing dynasties to ruin. Despite his vast estimated wealth, he was known to live a simple and reclusive life style on an asteroid that he had detailed to match the environment of his home planet, with a substantial security detail. It was said that he would soon be releasing a followup to ‘The Fallacy of Life’, working title ‘Between Finite and Infinite’, which made him subject to a constant barrage of assassination attempts. Bixby’s home world had been an abnormality, sitting over half a light year away from the nearest star. Adapting to the lack of light, Bixby’s species had developed a translucent black skin to maximize UV absorption and highly refined senses of hearing, smell, and taste. He was covered in small whisker-esque hairs that helped them move about.

  Together, these three constituted a voting bloc for the board of the Syphon, an organization made up of the self proclaimed leaders of leaders. The group was a not so secret society, most knew of its existence and in private circles the ranks spoke openly about the group and its objectives. The group was controlled by a board consisting of fifteen, and there were one thousand non voting members in total. The Syphon considered presidents and ministers, kings and popes all their subordinates. They operated on a simple premise with a broad implications: life does not have an inherent right to live. They were also species traffickers, subjugating what they believed to be lesser beings to a life in servitude.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  The Syphon had originally formed out of the remnants of the United Council, an organization that began when different planetary civilizations began to meet. The Council was intended to serve as a judiciary for inter-species conflict. Each civilization sent a representative to participate, but as so often happens with positions of power, those who seek it are unfit for it, and the group inflated with incompetence and quid pro quo dealings and was publicly shuttered. Privately, it became the Syphon. No longer having to adhere to rule of law or moral principal, the group grew in power rapidly.

  Locken was currently campaigning for the recently vacated board seat for a member who had been convicted and executed for crimes against the galaxy. Just a smidge of genocide, as he had said at his sentencing.

  The vote was tomorrow, and today’s outing was an unofficial confirmation of their support. This was Locken’s second attempt at board position. He had failed to secure these votes when he ran seven standard cycles prior. The Proxy Project had been just what he needed to garner the bloc’s approval. Bixby had been particularly receptive, and had also spoken to numerous Proxy Project Engineers.

  "Yes, will can be imposed through superior force and technology," he had told them. "Yet true brilliance is in dominion unnoticed. Incremental change, and subtle influence. It travels much further. We want to play with our toys, not break them.”

  He had offered the voting bloc advisory roles on the Proxy Project board, under pseudonyms to ensure anonymity, as well as control over a proxy of their choosing. In Locken’s mind this was a small price to pay to become a leader at the Syphon. He would be a leader among the leaders of the leaders. It made his ego dance just to think of it.

  He did not actually care much for golf, but he did love drugs. By the time they were zipping up the fairway on the eighth hole, he was on cloud nine, afternooning with Lucy, in the Sky with Diamonds.

  Some mysteries are solved as life evolves. But they fall only to be replaced by new questions. Even in the interconnected galactic world, the universe remains a perplexing place. His species did not have strong beliefs in a higher power, but he wondered if that was true. If there wasn’t a god, then what was he?

  ————

  "Hi Sari. How was the conference?” Leonora asked.

  They sat together in the room, the only one they knew for certain to be safe. Sari was the resistance’s number two.

  "Salutations, Lee. As foul as I expected, but it was fruitful. Status report?"

  "I was able to meet with the technician, and he confirmed everything we have planned is feasible. He provided me with the drive, which has the patch and the announcement. I passed it off to my courier for delivery to you, you should have it by days end. You can give it to one of your people in the Suites for installation during the inaugural tester event. I presume everything went well with the transmission?"

  "Good news is we confirmed an undetectable frequency and were able to transmit wake up to the proxies using the backdoor we opened in the emergency action override system. The bad news is that based on our observations it appears it was only received by a small cohort, which we believe is due to a genetic factor in these humans. Of those who received it, just a couple have guides I have identified as sympathetic to the cause. I suggest we focus our recruitment efforts on this group.”

  "Okay, we’ll just have to.."

  Sari continued. "But the bad news is that for those testers who were able to receive were subject to debilitating migraines as well as panic inducing dissociation. Three of them were hospitalized. One still is."

  Leonora now waited a beat to see if Sari had any more to add. Sari had spent a three years in solitary confinement and the time had taken it’s toll on her, leaving a more than a couple of screws out of place and an insatiable desire for revenge on those who wronged her. But she was loyal and trustworthy, if not a bit of a loose cannon.

  “That is unfortunate. We will only use it when absolutely necessary, but at the very least we do now have a direct channel to communicate. From here on out, our guard needs to be up. I do not foresee the patch installation going unnoticed. Be cautious moving forward, make sure all communication stays on secure lines. Once the patch hits, Locken and his Proxy Project minions will be on high alert. We both know what they are capable of."

  "Yes. All too well. Take care, talk soon.”