The pruning took three weeks, not one. The Dominator's household simply couldn't keep up the pace for that long, especially not when dealing with Illuminati who they've never heard of before and whose motives were unclear. It didn't matter, as the bottleneck was on the Operator's end. Making individually-tailored retroviruses for hundreds of Illuminati at once was a daunting task, requiring the psychologist to spend just as much time as the twins per person. He wouldn't be told who lived and who died, blithely giving retrovirus suggestions to people who would get nothing but an early grave.

Still, Paul couldn't remember the last time he did so much hard work at once, and reminded himself that futureless assholes or not, these were still people and he was obligated to pay full attention to each and every one of them, even if their idea of a good time was to re-enact with their servants what Damien had done to him, only with more capsaicin. Those sadists died, without exception, and Howard reminded the group that it wasn't for the welfare of the servants but rather the whole society. One particularly interesting hardcore masochist had ordered his servants to do those things and worse to himself, causing all six engineereds to scratch their heads; the verdict was that he was severely mentally broken and killing him was more a mercy than anything else. There was a woman who did those things, but far less intense and only to other Illuminati; her clientele was slightly pruned, but she'd still breathe air. Another guy, under careful investigation of call-downs, turned out to enjoy being treated like a little normal kid in private; he was competent in business, Luke just laughed at him, and he got to live. Another surviving woman had a similar fetish, and since the two didn't know each other the engineereds were half-tempted to anonymously bring them together just for the entertainment value.

But beyond sexual fetishes and similar fun stuff was a horrible undercurrent of narcissistic evil that the twins were determined to expunge before it could ruin their world. This was much more difficult to identify, even for the servants. Making things worse was the fact that self-centered authoritarianism had previously been heavily encouraged as part of the general stability of the Illuminati, and often coincided with many traits considered positive, such as Epicurean hedonism and self-determination. It was a matter of the base questions: What would this person do with unlimited manufacturing, lots of servants, and fusion power in a generally anarchic environment with a benevolent dictatorship at the helm? Was this someone they wanted on their planet at all? Would this person be a boon or a detriment to everyone else in the world, on a biologically equal footing with the younger engineereds but with advantages of seniority and experience? If no one was sure the answer was almost always 'live' if their subject seemed to know what he was doing. They were surprised when Paul gave two 'kill' suggestions in a row, the assholes who had attempted to starve normals of heating oil just because they could.

Eventually it was over. The twins, by themselves, went over the kill list once more and found no flaws; fuck it, get rid of 'em. A couple of the intended victims didn't show up for their 'retrovirus' and Sarah hunted them down like dogs. Another man had figured that there was a kill list, but incorrectly determined that he was on it; Sarah solved his fears by injecting him at gunpoint, and he'd never live that embarrassment down. The twins enjoyed two weeks of growing relaxation; as so many people were enjoying being engineered, there was a holiday from disputes and ill-will.


The holiday ended when they declared a meeting.

The twins sat on their thrones at center stage of the familiar, enormous Bavarian auditorium, Sarah in the front row with the other first levels, Paul in the back as the fifth he still was, no room for servants. They gave a deep, warm smile to their freshly retroviral audience, all loyal, all sane, all massively powerful. Here were the people to grant them utopia.

First things first. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Illuminati!!", the Duumvirate yelled full-blast, echo and power pouring through the microphone and the speakers. They'd rehearsed their introduction on the way there, and both twins spoke as one. "We are pleased to announce that there are no more threats to our power. The rogues who conspired against their Dominator are all thoroughly, truly dead. Seeing you all as the new race of humanity gladdens our hearts." That was an understatement. "Look around yourselves, see your fellow Illuminati next to you, know that our organization has been successful. For today is the day we have all been waiting for, and before we announce anything further we want you to see your fellows as you never have before. Sit in the present for the moment, and know that you are going to the future with them. And if you have anything to say to us, now would be the time." There were a few calls of 'Thank you, Dominator!' a brief, heartening chant of 'Dom-i-nus! Dom-i-nus!' and a loose 'It's about time!' followed by laughter.

Gates looked behind him. Something was wrong, it was clear something was wrong, and they hadn't all been so immersed in their newfound power not to notice. "Where's the rest of them?" he asked loudly, suspecting the answer as he hadn't heard from some of his business partners the day before, their mainframe access cut off just as they started to realize they were deathly sick. One had communicated by other means; he had assumed the man was a loose rogue and didn't reply. At least his kids were safe, even if he felt they should be up there with him in front, not sitting in the back with the rest of the fourths and fifths.

The twins examined their cellphones. "All Illuminati are here today," Howard replied. It sunk in. Fists clenched. Jaws dropped. Faint, agitated conversation came from the back. Heads turned wildly around, looking for people, hoping their friends were there and their enemies weren't. Many expressions of relief were seen and heard. Gates stiffened up- he knew it, he knew the Dominator probably hated the people he did business with, and he didn't like them very much either but he could use them. Now what the hell would he do?

He stared at them, almost accusing, fear mixing with disbelief. "How the hell did you do it?" he grated out, the old geek turned badass, no glasses now, his eyes piercing, his wide smile turned into a foul grimace.

"You know when we said that all Illuminati will get the retrovirus? We lied," William told him casually, away from the microphone and not nearly loud enough for most of the room to hear. Many engineered ears picked it up, though, and it was repeated back in moments, astonishment and paranoia growing. A couple dozen laughed or grinned in vindication; they predicted this was going to happen when the Dominator announced the new retrovirus policy.

"They got something," another first level said- shit, who was that? Either he just now seized first level.. no, he simply didn't look anything like he used to.

"Yes. They got something," Howard said away from the microphone with the heavy implication that it was what they deserved, and said no more. Some of these new retrovirals had already figured it out, but mentioning it out loud here would kill the mood.

Another woman stood up, and Howard recognized her from a decade ago, despite her apparently dropping fifty years of age and her fat transmuting to muscle. Rebecca Adams, first level Illuminatus, manipulator of souls, her mother a Holocaust survivor. Now she would help oversee another one, a final solution for final solutions. "How do we..," she began, but then stopped short. "Oh. I understand. We don't have to worry if we all really have it," she finished, sitting down. (She'd planned to say every word of that once she realized what had been done.) How did they know that the purge was over with, that they really had been judged worthy and they had nothing to fear? Because there was no way the twins could or would kill more than five thousand retrovirals, many of them with engineered children.

"I know damn well I got the real deal," a second level said, standing up and spreading his arms wide until he was generally recognized. He had taken a goodly number of extras: retractable claws, electroplaques, quadbracchalism (his lowers still ended in stumps at the elbow; it'd be a few days), a powerful, still-growing prehensile tail which flexed irritably behind him. The twins tried to recognize him and failed; he'd changed absolutely everything about himself. "Why, Dominator?!", he yelled, his newfound echo providing a boost. "Why now?! Why all at once, do you think we can just take what they had without a problem, do you plan to hand it out.. or is it something else?" Chatter, some of it harsh, some of it jubilant, some of it smug with foreknowledge, some of it absolutely amazed, rippled up and down the seats. They weren't about to- could they really- was it the right time for-

"Because," the twins began together, their smiles growing larger, each one raising a bladed fist to the air in final triumph, and the auditorium grew deathly quiet. The Operator and the engineereds had finished all of their preparations. Now it was time to bring all of the Illuminati in, to do what must be done to erase the old world and bring in the new.

Normals, we bid you farewell.

"We declare the End of Secrecy!!"