BLISS By Manimal “A tickle…I feel nothing more than a tickle.” The Prince tore at the mechanism on his temples. “Perhaps an adjustment…” an old man in front of the Prince reached out with trembling fingers. Instantly, the Protector who stood at the Prince’s side flashed the man’s head with a psychic whip. The man toppled backward into the arms of the last man in what had been a long line. “There are only ten minutes left.” The Prince addressed the throng that pressed against the walls of the palace ballroom to put as much distance as possible between themselves and their tyrant. “The best scientists and inventors in my realm have had a full year to produce this simple thing I have quested for—the ultimate pleasure. I have offered my very throne of power in return. Is that not enough incentive?” “The best incentive is pain,” the Protector offered. “Feed them to the clock one per hour, then you’ll succeed.” The people held their breath waiting to see if the Prince would put to use the limb-tearing bone-crushing machine that traitors were eliminated by. The Prince flicked a finger and the last man approached and presented him with a small green bottle. “From the most obscure island in the Endless Ocean comes this elixir which, I am told, will induce the most wonderful sensations that are indescribable to uh…to describe.” The man held out the bottle and the prince motioned him to set it down. The man made a hasty retreat. “Elixers, potions, love slaves, I have had all these for years. I want something no one has ever had.” A robust man spoke up. “Prince, pleasure is subjective. Tell us with some detail, some hint…what is it that you most truly want?” The Prince stood. His face was red with fury. Holograms of gargoyles behind the Prince darkened in sync with the Prince’s emotion. The crowd moaned. They leaned back as if from a strong wind. “I want…” the Prince hesitated. “I want…” His eyes blazed with hatred at the faces turned toward him. How he had punished them in the past. How much more he could punish them if he so desired. “I want—“ “To not want!” A strong voice sang out from the entryway. “It is Hemit your brother.” The Protector was bug eyed in shock. The crowd moved apart with a sudden joy at the man’s cavalier entrance. “Hemit, save us from the Prince,” a woman cried. “I shall. Tomorrow I will be your Prince.” Hemit waved his hand high and his white teeth flashed. Many people clung to him as he made his way forward. The Protector pointed a hairy finger at him and shouted. “Prince has banished you. Your return here calls for the clock.” The Prince smiled slightly. “My brother is no fool. Perhaps he brings me the ultimate pleasure?” Ignoring the Protector, Hemit walked up to the Prince and held out a package. “This is it.” The Prince took the package and shook it. “It has been a long time my brother since you stirred the mob against me with speeches of freedom.” “You have not been in need of me…until tonight. When I heard that you were in want of the greatest pleasure, out of brotherly love, I took the task upon myself.” “What you really mean is that you will save the people from my excesses with what’s in this box?” “Exactly.” “Always thinking of the people aren’t you. So noble.” The prince tore the package open and withdrew a pillow. It was encased in a plain white pillowcase. “He has insulted you Prince.” The Protector’s psychic whip glowed dark red in ready mode. “Sleep on the pillow tonight Prince and in the morning be prepared for bliss everlasting.” “You shall sleep in the clock Hemit.” The Protector gave a signal and guards seized Hemit’s arms. The crowd roared in anger but the Prince tweaked his voice magnifier and shouted them down. “Tomorrow I will appear on the balcony and, if with smile upon my face, then my brother goes free and you shall have a new Prince and I shall be done with you forever.” To Hemit he added, “Sweet dreams my brother.” “He has ignited the mob just as he did before you banished him,” the Protector scowled. “If Hemit has lied, tomorrow these wretches will be your playthings. They are useless to me.” All night the people kept the vigil as the great machinery of the clock began its dreadful gearing around the body of their hero. When the sun arose, Hemit’s arms and legs were stretched tight. Cold metal gear teeth clamped against his flesh and small cutters whirred next to his ears and face. The Protector stepped into view on the palace balcony and scowled at the crowd. He looked down searching for something. The Prince then stepped out. For a moment only one voice weakly murmured: “He smiles not.” “Where is he? Where is my darling?” The Prince whimpered, clasping his face between his hands. “Here he is.” The Protector scooped a fluffy brown puppy from between his feet and handed him to the Prince who smiled hugely and danced in a little circle stroking and cooing the animal. He waved merrily at the crowd. “The Prince smiles! Release Hemit! Release our new Prince!” The crowd roared and began shaking the clock. The Protector nodded at the guards. The crowd hoisted Hemit on their shoulders under the balcony. “You have killed my Prince with your cursed pillow,” the Protector lamented. Hemit said, “Not cursed. Just saturated with nano machines that were programmed to enter my brother’s brain as he slept. I gave him exactly what he asked for.” “Gave? You took! You took his mind and left him like this…a child.” “Ignorant of the ways of a ruthless dictator?” “Ignorant…yes.” “And what is ignorance?” Hemit shouted. “BLISS!” The crowd shouted back. “Ignorance is bliss!”