The streets of Grismara were filled with cheers, a joyous chorus that overtook and drowned out the chants of Victor's name. He stood high above them on the on the observatory parapet, his arm draped over Lucy's shoulders, gazing down at the immense crowd far below. From this altitude they were mere specks, as devoid of individuality as blobs of protoplasm under a microscope.

Grasping this analogy had been his biggest breakthrough. All life obeyed the same rules, danced to the same primordial tune. Mastering immortality was simply a matter of recombining chemicals into their most efficient form. Death, like the speed of light, had been a self-imposed barrier all along, one he was delighted to have demonstrably discredited. It was not only his boldest achievement but the boldest possible one: a rebuke to the universe that a humble vertebrate had managed to subvert its most elemental law. Such, so he claimed publicly, had been his inspiration.

He raised Lucy's small hand in a returning wave to the throng below as yet another volley of fireworks lit up the heavens. The Dominion Emperor himself had organized the pyrotechnics, a celebration of their impending alliance. Despite their trademark hauteur, the Cassians had struck him as surprisingly reserved, at least until he'd declined their requests for complimentary Elixir samples. Time and again he'd been pressed to reiterate the disclaimer that its side effects on non-Mordesh physiognomies remained unpredictable and more than likely fatal.

As the cheers finally subsided, he approached the microphones. He was exhausted but there was so much to say. Abruptly he became aware that some of the shouts persisting simultaneously from myriad parts of the crowd were not ones of pleasure.

As he turned to ask his research assistant whether she concurred, her hands closed around his throat.

Source: World Story