In an immense white room with pillars stretching up to a vast domed ceiling, the walls decorated only with torches shimmering with blue flame, the lord of all the planets sat deep in thought.

At an ivory desk in the centre of the floor, a tall, handsome Nubian in a pure white, exquisitely cut suit was carefully twisting and manipulating a small, multicoloured cube.

His expressive brow furrowing slightly now and then. Deftly clicking the puzzle back and forth, he arranged the colours in order and placed it neatly back on his desk. He regarded the completed cube critically. Though it had provided him with over a minute's entertainment it would seem there were no challenges left any more.

His intercom beeped, and a male voice spoke swiftly but respectfully. "Your ten AM is here, sir."

Hades nodded. "Send him in, thank you, Hephaestus."

Half a mile away a small black rectangle appeared in the white wall. It disappeared just as quickly and a black dot slowly grew into the shape of a man, scurrying across the great hall. When he finally reached the desk he was rather out of breath.

"I am here as requested, your greatness," he puffed.

"Hades will do, Faust," the Nubian said coolly. The newcomer was a small, moleish man, with spectacles. For some reason he seemed to be very aware of his hands, and would not stop fidgeting. His voice wobbled maddeningly as he spoke. "Sir, might I begin by asking if you would please consider an alternative form of payment for my contract. I have a wife and children, and it would really make them unhappy if I wasn't there to see them much in the immediate future -"

"And beyond," Hades intoned.

"Um, yes sir, and beyond."

Hades leaned forward. "Faust, let's get down to brass tacks here," he said. "You signed our contract, and it is binding in ways even I can't renegotiate. The payment is very specific and you were duly notified beforehand." He sat back and nodded slowly to illustrate how serious this matter was. "I'm afraid it's payable immediately. Have you said your goodbyes?"

The man's expression told Hades all he needed to know. He had clearly not put much stock in a last minute reprieve. Hades waved his hand over a plate in the desk which triggered a sliding panel revealing a row of buttons. Carefully selecting the obsidian one Hades extended his other hand to Faust, who shook it limply. Hades lightly pressed the button. Faust vanished downwards with a fading yelp of surprise. Hades sighed and sat back. At least he hadn't had to go through the awful grovelling and begging stage, which usually preceded the drop.

In return for whatever favour had been granted him, within the hour, Faust would be a far more dedicated employee of Zeus. It wasn't a grizzly fire-spewing pit like the old days, before Hades' time. Instead, surgical procedures would be carried out to ensure Faust would no longer need sleep, and could keep his brain and body going virtually indefinitely. This doubled productivity, as he was obliged to work the hours he would have spent in bed or inactive at home and he still had a three-hour break every day to visit his family and to shop. As a matter of fact, his wife and children would now be far better off, now he was making twice the income and Faust would be sure to appreciate them more, now he was working full company hours. Hades smiled inwardly at Faust's new situation. It had been Hades' idea, many years ago, when he still had some passion for his career. Of course the poor man would be on a heavy prescription of drugs throughout this extended period to prevent him having a psychotic episode, but the drugs were inexpensive to produce and worth the extra man hours.

An interesting side effect of this situation was the frenzied purchasing that would no doubt occur on his daily shopping trips, which would channel a high percentage of his wages back into Zeus's pocket. Zeus owned the shops he frequented, they owned the car he drove, the house he lived in, even the air he breathed. Everything in this world belonged to the vast meta-corporation; Zeus, they had even named the planet after themselves.

Hades got up and stretched his legs, walked to the closest wall and said softly, "View, please." A large window appeared in front of him as the whole wall became translucent. "Open" triggered the window to slide upwards, giving Hades a wonderful, sweeping view of the Demeter sector, which of course belonged to him. The buildings were much the same as they were in most of the business districts, but here they were even cleaner. The planet's surface bubbled furtively far below.

Hades position made him apparently the most powerful man on any of the inhabited worlds. He had been born on Nubia and raised to proudly embrace the culture of his people. First in his class by a consistently high margin from pre-school all the way up to his Athena-Prime in Law, he had been considered likely to become the youngest high court judge in Nubian history. Then he had delved further into politics, became a governor, then eventually a senator. He was on the path towards the highest elected position on his planet. At that point Zeus had head-hunted him and he left Nubia to climb their ranks, resulting in his landslide victory and ascendance to Chairman Supreme two years previously. Now, at just thirty years old, he had achieved the Olympian dream to its fullest extent. From relative poverty he had risen to what the public perceived as the highest seat of power and wealth. Billions of people hung on his every word. As far as the public were concerned, he held the power of life and death over the entire planet and beyond. He could wish for anything to be done and it would be, and he was so bored right now, he could almost cry.

Hades gazed at the morning sky and wished silently for an almighty war that would rend the planet asunder.

"Sir, I've got a situation for you," Hephaestus chimed in over the intercom. "A bomb was detonated outside the Odysseus sector GeneWash building. It went off at basement level but no real damage was done. Security has detained a delivery boy whom they suspect of being responsible." There was the slightest of pauses.

"Hold on, I'm coming out," Hades said, marching away from his view of the cityscape. "Close window and mask please," he called over his shoulder. The wall behind him melted into pure white once more.

He reached the end of his office and crossed through to Hephaestus'. His chief of staff was already on his feet, calling for a car via the Templenet linkup. He joined Hades and kept in step with him while he walked through the halls of Olympus.

Hephaestus was shorter and older than Hades and unlike his superior, his brow was knitted with lines of stress. He had dark hair receding back over a prominent forehead, sharp eyes and a brisk manner of speech. He wore a smart cream jacket and was currently holding a holographic clipboard and a cup of coffee. As they spoke, they strode through the offices of the administrative wing, passing busy Olympian staff as they went. Everybody stood aside in respect for the Chairman Supreme, and most of them traded good-morning nods with Hephaestus.

"What's the boy's story?" Hades asked.

"He's claiming total innocence."

"A GeneWash building," Hades said.

"You think it's LOKI again?" Hephaestus asked as he held the sliding door for a junior press secretary.

"It's been nearly a decade since they were last operating in public, I think most of LOKI have retired and gotten jobs as senior technicians for us by now. If our cars start flying backwards we'll know why." Hades turned a corner and crossed over to a pair of security doors. They both stopped to scan their palm, eye and tongue codes. "You say nothing was damaged; I think if it was anybody as dedicated as LOKI, they'd have gotten the job done."

They crossed through the security doors and both smiled and nodded at the middle-aged lady behind the check out desk.

"The boy claims he averted a disaster," Hephaestus said. "It's possible he's telling the truth. Perhaps if it wasn't for him the job would have been done right and a lot of people would be dead right now."

"Granted," Hades replied.

"You don't think so though, do you?" Hephaestus pressed, as they crossed through the great central lobby. "You think he's an inside man and he screwed up. Coffee, sir?" Hades shook his head. "Mind if I get one? This one's almost out." Hades, sighed, nodded and stood patiently outside an executive lounge as Hephaestus slipped in and back out again with a fresh mug in his hand.

"Say he is an inside man," Hades continued as he walked on, holding the lobby door open for an intern before passing through and towards the elevators. "What are we going to do with him?"

"Our latest policy of zero tolerance on crime demands that we take action on terrorism of all kinds," Hephaestus said gravely. "It would be great copy for the evening press junket if you were to get personally involved."

Hades groaned as they entered the elevator and punched in a key-code for the garage. One would think he was a movie star, the amount of smiling he had to do for the cameras.

"I'll meet with him," said Hades resolutely.

"Who?"

"The guy."

"What, the delivery boy? Why?" Hephaestus demanded.

"Like you said, it's great copy."

"I meant making a public statement on the situation, smiling like you're advertising toothpaste and shaking hands with the manager of the GeneWash building, not interrogating a suspected criminal!"

"Don't forget, I spent the early years of my career doing just that. I'll find out in a few minutes whether he's guilty or not and we'll go from there."

"But why?"

"I want to show these people I can actually do something useful. Everybody loves cop dramas, and it's something they can all relate to."

"You're going to play mind games with him?"

"Maybe."

"Can I be the bad cop?"

"You can be the guy I bring in to show him the crippling effects of chemical dependency."

"Caffeine improves a body's reaction time tenfold."

"So does Hyper-crack."

"What if he's guilty?"

"We'll nail him in the time it takes to get his prison cell warmed up."

"Are you going to make an example of him?"

"Why make the world safer if nobody knows about it?"

"If he is with LOKI, they'll probably retaliate."

"I know, " Hades said calmly. Hephaestus paused and studied him. The elevator stopped at the parking lot and the doors opened.

"People could get hurt,"

"I'll try to keep it minimal," Hades replied. "We want a general unease rather than a panic." The doorman smiled at them as they passed and radioed Hades' driver.

"What if he's innocent?" Hephaestus asked. Hades smiled to himself. "You don't care if he's innocent or not. You want a war, don't you?" The car pulled up before them. The door slid open and Hades got in, followed by Hephaestus who handed his mug back to the doorman. They continued as the car glided off towards the exit and out into the morning sky.

"Zeus wants just enough of a threat to keep them happy with the way things are going and scared they might change."

"Yes, but you want a war because it would entertain you."

"You think so?" Hades asked, genuinely curious. "I suppose I'd just like a decent opponent."

"Then keep your eye on your home turf and let me watch your back. You drop your guard for one moment and there are a dozen Angels angling for your job. Those are the enemies you should be dealing with. Outside forces we can handle."

"The Angels are a cadre of fools."

"Exactly why you need to watch out," Hephaestus countered. "The public likes people they can relate to. I don't know if you've noticed, but your re-election campaign is not the most popular."

"Precisely why I'm meeting this kid, " Hades smiled. "He's going to make me the crime-fighting Chairman Supreme."

"Should I have your tailor cut you some tights?"

"If you would. I'd borrow a pair of yours, but pink doesn't match my cape."

***

Sire had been sitting in a bare office for over an hour now, and he was both crushingly bored and incredibly apprehensive. Following the explosion he had been grabbed immediately by security-guards, frog-marched into the building and questioned repeatedly about his dealings with the package, and his identity. His story and I.D. had checked out but they had not been too impressed with his explanation that he "Just had a funny feeling about the package". Since he hadn't felt it ticking or vibrating, they simply couldn't see how he had suspected the box contained explosives. One kind doctor had pointed out they should all be thanking Sire for his bravery, and that he had saved hundreds of lives. This had been the only good moment, though.

Generally they were regarding him as not only a terrorist, but an incompetent one who had failed in his task of delivering his payload. It would take some serious prying to find the cracks in his I.D. but this event was likely to warrant just such an investigation. Things did not look good for him right now. At best he was likely to find himself without a job. He didn't want to think about the worst-case scenario.

Then another man came to see him. This one said he was from Zeus. He asked Sire repeatedly about the feeling he'd had. Sire explained again it was simply gut instinct. Then the Zeus representative had asked bluntly why Sire had never been Genetically Cleansed in his entire life. Sire said truthfully that he didn't like the idea of nano-machines in his DNA deciding what he wore in the morning. The man looked at him as one might look at a person who said baths were unnatural. Then he remembered his manners and left, with a promise to send somebody more important in soon.

Sire turned to the silent viewscreen in the wall, which was currently running a children's show; The Adventures of Squeaky the Clay Pigeon. He had realised by now if there was any news about the explosion, he would learn more from the TV than by asking anybody here. Sire found a remote unit and flicked through fifty channels. A barrage of grinning teenagers, adrenaline sports, music videos, soaps and cartoons assailed him. One channel-surf later and he was in the realm of Father Earnest Methuselah Holler.

Father Holler was the most popular televangelist of the moment. He was a devout salesman of the Church of Raymond Phillips. Phillips had been a baseball star some two thousand years ago. He was also apparently the Son of God. His life story was one of the most ancient tales remembered. Raised a simple farm boy, he had gone on to major-league stardom before he realised his divinity and the media had made him a megastar. He had travelled the planets telling parables to eager disciples and healing the sick, all the while followed by his roving film crew who broadcast his exploits 24 hours a day on Channel Raymond. Unfortunately after a few years of fame some fanatics had murdered him in a bitter dispute as to the validity of his claims. These fanatics had claimed they had their own Son of God locked in a box that nobody was allowed to open. Phillips had died a martyr, and now his following was one of the widest in the system.

Right now Father Holler was roaring into a microphone about all the sin and blasphemy in the universe. He assured Sire that if he did not accept Raymond into his life, then he was bound for the lake of fire. Holler then went through Raymond's ten new Commandments, damning to the depths of hell anybody who violated them and didn't go to a valid Phillipene priest afterwards and apologise. They all seemed remarkably difficult to adhere to for anybody wishing to lead a normal life, and some even contradicted each other.

Sire switched over in disgust. He tried not to watch shows which made him angry and feel like changing things. It was a dangerous mood to be in. He contented himself by watching a re-run episode of one of his favourite cartoons, Samurai Jackal.

Half an hour later, a tall, striking man in an expertly tailored, brilliant white suit came in. He sat down behind the desk as if he owned the building. Technically, he did. He fixed Sire with a penetrating stare. The moment he entered, Sire became incredibly uneasy. The room seemed genuinely too small for both of them.

"You don't have to get up," said the newcomer.

"I wasn't going to," Sire replied. He was looking at Hades, the most powerful man in the planetary system and he felt nothing but hostility. It was a crazy moment. All he had to do was be polite and helpful and not arouse more suspicion and he might walk out of here and resume his life. Instead he found all of the political rumblings he had ever felt boil to the surface, fighting to break free and bombard this living embodiment of Zeus' dominance.

Hades, however, saw merely a dishevelled boy in grease-monkey uniform. Nothing out of the ordinary - but looking deep into his eyes, Hades saw something strange and incomprehensible. He too had felt uneasy as he entered the room. This boy had a powerful glow about him. It was well hidden, but Hades could see a strong and dangerous individual behind this mask of anonymity. He could easily be a terrorist, but Hades could read people better than any man alive and this boy was something else. He felt his two concealed handguns pressing against his back and his right ankle and wondered why they didn't make him feel more secure. Still, he had to be professional about this. Suppressing the urge to leap across the desk and throttle the boy, Hades smiled tightly and said what he had come to say, all the time studying his captive’s facial expressions and body language.

"What was your first name again please, Mr Firebrand?" Hades asked.

"Sire," said the boy.

"And which district do you live in?"

"Ponos, Sir."

Hades nodded silently. He had already known the answers to both of these questions.

"I'm here to congratulate you on your heroic efforts, Mr Firebrand. This very room would be rubble if it weren't for you. We are in your debt."

"So you're assuming I'm innocent until proven guilty," Sire said.

"But of course," Hades replied. "We have no reason to believe that any known terrorist organisation would send an inefficient bomber to take out such a significant target."

He was testing him. He fixed on Sire's eyes for any sign of indignation. There was none.

"I'm a delivery boy. I was just doing my job, which, by the way doesn't entail mass destruction on a daily basis," said Sire, "unlike some people's."

Hades eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. The boy did seem to be telling the truth here, despite his attitude.

"The will of Zeus is to embrace all cultures to its breast," said Hades. Sire did not respond for a moment.

"So, since I'm not a psychotic suicide bomber, do I get a reward?" he asked, hoping greed might make him appear more average.

"Quite so," said Hades, leaning forwards a little. "First of all, the good people of this GeneWash firm are going to give you the most expensive Genetic Cleansing money can buy. The Premier Class A-Plus GeneWash hardware Package will give you a built-in top of the line personal optic CPU, workstation, phone, organiser, music and movie player, body regulator, fashion guru, a ten year premium subscription to Templenet, and a number of other fine attributes that you appear to be lacking. It probably costs more than you'd make in a decade, but it's their way of saying thank you."

Sire still didn't react outwardly, but Hades could see something had changed in the boy's eyes. His attitude went from forced diplomacy to very well controlled panic. This kid did not want to be cleansed. Something about the procedure frightened him. Hades searched the boy's face and found the answer. He was anxious to avoid attention. "Afterwards, we'll have you on talk shows where you can reveal your act of heroism to the whole world. Then Zeus is going to set you up with a new home and a better-paid job. This is our way of saying thank you for protecting our investment."

This would be the clincher. Nobody in this boy's social position could possibly turn down the chance for fame and a better life unless they had something to hide. There was a long silence.

Sire was pinned and he knew it. With an awful, shaky feeling in his gut, he played his last card.

"I'm afraid I'm part of a religious sect which prohibits genetic tampering and shuns worldly goods," he said. His expression remained deadpan, and so did the Chairman's.

"Really," Hades said. Sire's body froze in anticipation.

"Seriously." Sire grasped at the tatters of his lie. "We just want to lead our lives free of technological dependency."

"Mr Firebrand, I'm a politician," Hades cut in. "I meet with and talk to more professional liars every day than you have met in your entire lifetime. What makes you think that this particular fabrication will convince me to let you walk free? If you are indeed a terrorist, I must say I'm disappointed your superiors aren't a little more thorough in their vetting processes."

"I'm not a terrorist," Sire said, with such conviction that just a little of the wind fell from Hades sails. "I know it’s exactly what a terrorist would say, but believe me, I'm just a guy doing a regular job and trying to get through life not breaking the rules, but without doing everything that's suggested to me either. I feel Genetic Cleansing will take away any element of choice I still have left, and I'm perfectly prepared to work hard for where and how I live without handouts from anyone."

Hades nodded. "That was impressive, Mr Firebrand, but let me put it this way. You are now a cause of concern to us and I am directly responsible for how you are dealt with." He stood up calmly, reached behind himself and shot Sire point blank in the chest. The pistol he used rendered Sire unconscious immediately. The other gun would have killed him. Something told Hades to leave the boy alive for now and see what happened. He leaned down over Sire's slumped form and, checked his pulse. Then he straightened his tie and left the room.

As he passed Hephaestus in the hallway, Hades tilted his head, indicating to his aide to follow. He did not break his stride as he dispensed instructions. "Go back in there. Check the boy's properly sedated and have him taken to Olympus and placed in the detention centre. Carry out standard procedures for all level two prisoners. He knows more than he's saying, so I'll let the professionals handle him. After that, I may or may not have him sent to Gehenna."

"Do you want his domicile stripped and bugged?"

"Commission a phantom team. Leave no traces of a search and only microscopic bugs. If this kid walks I want to know what he's doing."

"He had a bike."

"If we set him free, get it back to him, until then impound it."

"As you wish," replied Hephaestus, turning on his heel and heading back to the room and Sire's helpless, unconscious body.