Phrenology: E-Lunar (3) Route A (MANUSCRIPT)

Chapter 3, Turn 2

           "Cuprite, do you want to know what I think of modern man?" The Inquisitor raised but one eyebrow, looking down on his fellow subordinate one Monday night.

    "Whaddaya think of modern man, sir?" Cuprite nodded and yawned, looking down at his watch to see the time was 1am. 

    "Hm. Archaic man performed strange rituals, believed in fantasy gods, believed illnesses were curses, and competed for resources for the remainder of their quite short lives. Modern man... now has the capability to house every individual and feed every individual. Modern man can cure illness and doesn't need to perform petty rituals, or look up to fictional creatures for divinities." The Inquisitor touched at the rims of his hat.

    "Ah, so, modern man is quite the excellent and succeeding breed, then?" Cuprite yawned once more. Is that what he's saying?  

    "On the contrary," The Inquisitor wagged his left forefinger. "modern man is obnoxious and disgusting." 

    Cuprite's shadow-like eyes widened. "Oh?" 

    "Modern man is still plagued by those instinctual feelings, complexes, desires, fetishes- Only, this time, he prides himself on not having any gods to put this off to. Yet, there are still gods who walk among us to this very day. My very own father had met with them! Modern man's rituals are not putting his hands up to the sky, no- They are idiosyncrasies and routine and schedules and paper work and... coffee. Getting up early for work, going to bed, early, for work, and modern man punishes himself for all of this. He finds himself in a never-ending cycle of consumption. His ego fights himself. He is like the donkey which pins its own tail." 

    Cuprite stood there with a perplexed expression. "I- I see." 

    "You've been a close colleague -- an important and trustworthy partner, Cuprite -- so, I think it's time I tell you why I started this organization to fight against the institution of driving."

    "Inquisitor, I've actually been wondering that for a long time, yes!" Cuprite's voice rose. 

    "It was many years, before the birth of such a city as this. Or, I should say, before Little Japan became what it is today." The Inquisitor, with his hat, looked away from Cuprite and onto a random spot in the darkness of the night. 

    Oh, shit. Cuprite cracked his knuckles. Here comes story-time. 

    "Me and the dearest love of mine, Catalina. We'd been... together, for two years. She always took away my ego, you see, and stripped me of any recriminations. Every night, we mischievous, young souls would travel through the dark scenery of Ajax, a town some miles from here. Every night we did this, there was always a special bush next to a large area of vegetation which grew close to the road." The Inquisitor kept bawling and releasing a fist. "Behind this bush, we would dabble in our bodies, and become one with nature." The man's hands flew up and down, like he was conducting an orchestra. "We would revel in our darkness and our lights. We were beautiful, but... one night... as everything was as it should have been -- we kept our wits about us, even -- but suddenly, at a sharp turn which this road had possessed -- by our favorite bush --, headlights- Racing at seventy-five in a mere twenty-five mile zone! I- I couldn't do anything-" 

    "I- Inquisitor?" Cuprite saw his boss begin to have some sort of anxious spasm. 

    "And then, just like that, that once strong, resilient body -- that passionate blood, her powerful words, and the life in those eyes -- were stolen away so easily. Her corpse folded over in front of me. WOOSH! Hm. No more Catalina."

    "I- Uh- Sir." Cuprite shook his head, his cheeks building up a cold sweat. "Are you okay?"

    The Inquisitor nodded, merely, as he continued with, "Now, sure, many could pull debates from all sorts of sources, claiming that this situation was simply an imperfect one. Two teenagers, not being 100% obedient, and going out to sneak around a bush. How mischievously biblical! Ultimately, if cars had never been invented in the first place, then the suffering in this world would be cut down immensely!" 

    Cuprite's black hair swiveled in the wind, his lips curving into a triumphant smirk. "I see, it all makes sense now." Looking up at the towering building of Eddington Academy, the agent sighed. I finally get where the guy's coming from. He's a suffering, old fella. I almost feel bad for leavin' him in the dust. 

    "And, so, tonight, Cuprite, I demand two things of you. The first, is that we put our plans into action! Already, the power of our propaganda has finally taken the cars away from this city, but not Ajax- Not where it all began. Not the epicenter of my plight! We must quickly spread our propaganda. We've kept a safe base here, in this part of Ontario, for too long. I, of course, didn't want to simply leave once the law was passed- That is, the law which made driving illegal here. I wanted to stay and keep enforcing the propaganda, keeping my ducks in a row for quite some time, but now... it is secure. We can spread- Spread the illegality of driving from this city... to the next." 

    "Fantastic, sir. What was the second thing, though?" Cuprite raised his right eyebrow as he gave in to a sudden shiver. This jacket isn't warm enough to handle how cold it's starting to get.

    "You're going to hear my real name." 

    "Your- What?" Cuprite stepped back, the tufts almost standing up on the back of his neck. I didn't even think this guy had a real name.

    "But first, I would like to hear yours." 

    "Right. That's been an oddly familiar request as of late, if you'd believe it. Very well then, Inquisitor. Todd Grayson." 

    "Excellent. A most beautiful sound to it!" The boss widened his eyes, flaring his nostrils. "Now, I have a third point of action. Let us get my two other agents... Apricot-Enderbite and Cyan-Diorite... ready." The Inquisitor revealed two pictures from his pocket, one of a young man with white hair and strange yellow eyes, the other portraying a buff man with short, blue hair.

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