Unreal - Page 11

It turns out he had invested a great deal of money into my progenitor's experiments, and his visit that night had been to check upon the status of said investment. Since he wanted nothing to trace him back to my progenitor's highly illegal activities, he had visited us in secret and told no one.

It is ironic, really. He called my progenitor a monster, but without his money, my progenitor's research would not have been possible. Granted he did not know the precise details of some of the less . . . savory aspects of the research, but he knew enough to feel secure in his own plausible deniability should my progenitor run afoul of the authorities. He saw only the potential of a lucrative pay off for his investment, and the chance to bring about his dreams of a “one perfect race in the eyes of God.” He was unconcerned if this was brought about by my progenitor's research via the techniques to practically implement a high tech eugenics program, or the more immediate expediency of a custom made plague to wipe clean the “unworthy.” Either way, the thought brought dark dreams of “Heavenly rewards” and an even darker thrill to his twisted soul . . . until he met me, a creature that by his beliefs could have no soul, face to face.

That frightened him far more than my poor attempts at threatening him did, I think.

That much I gleaned from a later conversation I had with my progenitor, but there is still much I do not know about this stranger. Does he still fear the consequences to his immortal soul for helping bring about such an “abomination” as myself, or has his fear faded over the years to the more mundane concern that I might still be out there somewhere, able to represent myself as both evidence and witness to what he helped finance. Regardless, that night I could tell that he did not wish to leave things as we left them, and neither did I, so now that the time is right, I have returned to him.

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