Getting Back To Insanity

Mary Firello paces back and forth in her office, shaking her head "Send the general in." She barks, and a secretary rushes to do her bidding. Soon, a grown man walks slowly into the room. His mud and ochre stained attire indicates that he has recently exited a fight...and by the way he stares at the floor, not daring to meet the Leader's eyes, it's evident that he has lost said fight.

The Leader crosses her arms, tapping the floor with her foot impatiently "Well?" She demands imperiously. With every strike of her shoe against the tiled floor, the man's fear visibly grows, until he's literally cowering before the woman. He's larger than her. Stronger than her. Carrying weapons that could kill her in a heartbeat. Yet she has one thing he does not; paranoid schizophrenia. Both fifty years ago and today, that one difference can change everything.

Except for the fact that fifty years ago, it was a disadvantage.

Today...it's something selectively bred for. Something people are desperate to have. Because to have it, makes you elite. Better. Part of the caste of the Superiorly Minded. The same caste as the Leader herself, Mary Firello.

Mary finally snaps at the unfortunate general, irritated by his silence "Didn't the voices tell you what to do?" She cries "Didn't they tell you how to beat the Resistance?" The man shuffles his feet, looking down. His tongue darts out, rasping wetly over his lips as he licks them nervously. "No, ma'am" He chokes out, his eyes peering up at the Leader. His pupils are two dark, round centres of fear.

Her face twists, as if she's just popped a piece of sour candy in her mouth.

A dangerous look flickers across her ice cold sapphires, a deadly sweet voice issuing from her puckered mouth "Tell me, General...what do your voices tell you?"

"Um...hi?" The nervous man whispers, too afraid to think straight.

Mary's eyes darken completely in rage, as she hisses "Liar." She starts to walk around the man, much like a lion closing in on its prey "You don't hear the voices, General. So you pretended too." Her voice turns harsh "Costing the Superiorly Minded countless battles. Jeopardising the cause." The General opens his mouth, desperation written in his posture...only to scream as Mary makes a gesture, and the floor drops out from under him.

From the corner, clapping can be heard. Mary slowly turns around, a smile on her face. It seems out of place among the hate lines surrounding her lips.

"Enjoyed the show, did you Drake?"

"Oh, of course mother. Watching men plunge to their deaths...." He trails off, a sardonic grin curving his mouth.

His mother nods, tilting her head to the side, her eyes rolling up slightly, a look of rapt attention on her face. Finally she relaxes, a carnivorous grin stretching her face as she announces "The voices are pleased."

Drake simply nods, a mirror of her smile stretching across his face as he speaks “Mine too, Mother.” He offers his arm to her “Shall we eat?” She smiles at him and nods, ruffling his hair as she accepts his arm.

Drake is her son. She envisions him eclipsing her triumphs; taking her empire to a new level. She doesn’t question, even for a second, that he can do it…because, after all, they are mother and son. They share genetics.

Thus, they share paranoid schizophrenia. Thus, they share her vision.

It’s funny, how genetics work…how paranoid schizophrenia is a recessive gene.

Funny how Drake’s father didn’t have paranoid schizophrenia.