Algeny

PROLOGUE

The car moved so quickly and smoothly across the surface road that it made no sound.  Modern cars made were so efficient that their engines barely even whispered as they ran.  

The buildings of the city were tall and perfectly blank.  They stood unadorned, blending in seemlessly with steely grey skies.
    
The man sitting in the passenger seat turned his head to the adolescent girl in the back.  She had her eyes fixed on her feet, sitting in uncomfortable silence.
    
"Do you know why we do what we do, Marion?" he asked her very plainly.
    
With tears in welling up in her electric green eyes, she shook her head.  She avoided his own, because they were so indifferent.
    
"We do what we do, because it makes this," he said, gesturing outward toward the cityscape, "perfectly harmonious.  There isn't a dust particle out of place.  Everything in Vadium is as perfect as it can be; and that's all there is of it."
    
The car sped along through the city's main street.  It passed through block after block—each filled with identical buildings, which served nearly identical purposes and housed nearly identical people.
    
"Nature's method," the passenger began, "is to kill off that which does not work to the benefit of the species as a whole."
    
She remained morosely silent, shifting her gaze to upholstery of the back seat.  There wasn't a stain to be found in the grey carpet.
    
"We do what we do, because we believe the human mind was developed to speed nature's process.  After over two milleniums, we understood.  Do not help the helpless live. . ." he trailed off.  "Help nature kill them."
    
She looked up at his face coldly, trying to stifle her emotions as he had; her tears had gone.
    
"It's a pity your father had to die; I always loved him."
    
She breathed hard, hate-filled breaths, wanting so badly to strangle the breath from his lungs.
    
"We do what we do, because without a function, life is waste.  Without a function, life is your garbage.  Without a function," he said, looking in her wet eyes, "life is only an unfortunate mess, and I am the janitor."

He sat back in his seat, and pulled out his gun, inspecting it's long barrel.  From his front pocket, he pulled out a silver cloth and wiped down the weapon.

"I think in time, you'll come to understand what I do and why I do it, Marion."

Defenseless to him, she swallowed back her pain and her indelible hatred.  She levelled out her head and answered, "then let's hope, Uncle, that until then, I serve a desired purpose."

The passenger smiled, and put his gun away.