Aron had decreed that the remaining days of December would be an imperial holiday. As such, everyone was given the option of taking the ten days off for a paid holiday, or choosing to work for double pay. That included both government employees and private companies alike, a move that was popular with employees, but not nearly as popular with the enterprises employing them.

As for himself, on the other hand, he was still working without pay. After all, he had never taken a salary from the imperial treasury to begin with, save a ceremonial 1 END per year. Even as the emperor, he was still a government employee, so he had to be paid. But since the money was irrelevant to him, he only accepted a token pittance.

He was currently in his office dealing with state affairs. “With this,” he sighed in relief, “the case of the progenitor cult can be considered closed.” He flicked his eyes to the scanner and linked the final document to his retinal pattern and other biometric data, a measure that would ensure the information in the case file would be classified as deeply as it could.

The information contained in the investigation file was the very definition of “highly dangerous”, and as such it would be for the best if it were to never see the light of day again at all.

“We got lucky, Nova. If the cult had known how to train their own awakeners, instead of blindly fumbling about and failing as often as they succeeded, they could’ve been a much, much bigger problem,” he said, wiping a drop of nonexistent sweat from his brow.

[Indeed, sir, and that would’ve made it far more difficult to stop as well. If he’d scattered the cult’s awakeners around the world ahead of time instead of gathering them all in Amarillo for training, we wouldn’t have been able to identify and remove them before their programming activated and they started a slaughter.

[Our luck, I think, was that we happened to catch one of the inner circle in Washington, and you happened to trace his mana back to him. If you hadn’t drained all the mana in the surrounding area, it would’ve been lost in the background noise,] Nova said.

“Another part of our luck is that Mr. Ashley himself didn’t understand how to use his affinity.”

[Beg pardon, sir?] Nova tilted her head, something she had seen humans do when they were confused and seeking clarification on a point in conversation.

“If I were him, I would’ve kept even lower. Made a show of disbanding the cult entirely and gone deep, deep underground. So deep that nobody would ever notice my existence. And he had the tools to do just that without ever being discovered.”

[How so?]

“He could take people over and force compliance, right?”

[Yes, he could. But with our brain data updating every time they used a piece of DR gear, wouldn’t that have been discovered?]

“That was his mistake. He didn’t just take people over, he programmed them to act on his behalf. If he’d just taken them over and ordered them to forget they were taken over and act completely normal... the consequences to the empire would’ve been devastating once all of those individuals were activated.”

[I see. If nothing out of the ordinary was detected on our regular updates of their brain data, then he would’ve been able to continue taking over more and more people, up to and including our awakeners.]

“Exactly. And that’s what frightens me. Mana is a huge evolutionary step for the human species, but... it’s equally devastating. It’s the equivalent to stepping into the nuclear power age in the 1940s and 50s, except instead of a few governments in control, it’s everyone having their own nuclear arsenal. And even worse...” he sighed and trailed off, massaging his temples.

[Even worse, sir?] Nova prompted.

“Even worse, it didn’t start with rational humans. The evolution began with irrational people during the time when we’re the least in control of ourselves: puberty.”

[I see your point. That is frightening.]

“And it’s completely human nature, too. Do you know what most protest movements, anarchist groups, and eco-terrorist organizations of the 18th and 19th century have in common?”

[They recruit their members at a young age, sir?]

“Exactly. Anti-capitalist movements like the 99%, anarchist groups like Anonymous and other hacktivist collectives, and even eco-terrorist groups like the Earth Liberation Front consisted almost entirely of people between the ages of 18 and 25. It’s something people eventually grow out of, but... unfortunately, now that same age range almost entirely overlaps with the age range of people who unexpectedly gain real power.

“So how do we prevent something like that from happening in the future?” Aron asked.

[I suggest a treaty, sir. You offer imperial training of non-

imperial awakeners, but they’ll be required to follow imperial law. There are enough of them blowing themselves up or going braindead from mana backlash that I think the suggestion would be received fairly well.]

“That could work... we could make it a part of Operation Boiling Frog.”

[Operation Boiling Frog, sir?] Nova asked, puzzled.

“There’s a saying about boiling frogs. If you don’t want them to jump out of the pot, you put them in cold water and slowly bring it to a boil so they don’t realize the temperature is rising and jump out,” Aron said.

[But that would never work, sir.]

“I know. It’s just a saying.” Aron stood and brought up a screen, then started filling it with plans for the next four years. “By the year 5 AE, I want there to be no one on Earth who isn’t an imperial citizen,” he said, continuing to flesh out his plans.

[I see, sir.]

“And the way we’re going to do that is the same way as frogs get boiled. And we can start with awakeners. As long as they accept our trade of training for patrollers and enforcement, everything else will fall into place like a line of dominoes.”

[I’ll inform the Minister of the Exterior,] Nova said, then flickered for a moment. [Message sent, sir. Now... don’t you have a wedding to plan?]

“Shit! I almost forgot!” Aron waved his hand to dismiss the screen in front of him and initiated his emergency logout procedure.