ZA 27: Fuck it. 'bout time someone spoke for Selig, since Selig won't speak for himself.

For a moment, watching Virgil struggle with the decision to shake Selig's hand or reject him, inhaling the smell of Meg's butterscotch-and-human-yearning cookies filling the air, hearing the sound of Cam-zombie noisily licking his lips after consuming a wise-ass fellow mutant, and feeling the rush of Lizzie's magic as--unbeknownst to her--it began flowing out of her and into Selig, Selig felt a curious feeling. It came upon him like a long forgotten lover emerging from a mist. What was it? Something he hadn't felt in years, maybe decades... ...aah. The absence of boredom. How quaint. Virgil spoke. The moment passed.

"You're a vile monster, Selig, but you've done a fair job muscling me into a corner. I'd rather be your slave free than your free slave."

Selig was content to let Virgil have his moment. Meg, however, had less tolerance for overly-cute word play. "That makes no sense at all, Virgil. Cookie?"

"I simply meant that I would rather serve Selig with a free mind, than be free to go my own way with a slave's mind. In other words, no. I would not like a cookie."

"Firstly, Virgil," Selig spoke, beginning to feel a bit awkward with his dragon hand extended but, as yet, ungrasped. "Your mind is not free. Your mind is saddled with an infinitude of tacit agreements about the nature of reality, particularly as it pertains to the human sphere. For example, you still believe in such obviously trite fantasies as temporality, individuality, and--though you will no doubt try to deny it--morality. You believe there is such a thing as past and future, despite the overwhelming and undeniable evidence to the contrary. You believe in the 'you' that sits like a hairshirt over your essential essence--constantly forcing your attention, constantly emphasizing and enhancing your suffering. You believe that there is such a thing as good--regardless of whether you call it aesthetics or moralizing. Indeed, you just betrayed as much with your breathless posturing about free slaves and slaves freed. Your judgment could not have been thicker or more sticky were it the world's largest regurgitated hairy gumwad.”

"Umm...Selig..." interrupted Meg. "Not sure if I’m interpreting the psychic field properly, but I think there’s a problem with the zombie pyramid.”

While Selig appreciated the information--confirming it was so with a quick scan of the psychic field--and while he recognized the great courage it took for Meg to interrupt him, he could not afford to look bad in front of his zombie hordes.

"Button up, cookie witch!" Selig shouted, and slashed Meg's throat open with one of his razor claws. Gasping for air and reeling from sudden blood loss, Meg fell to her knees. In a few moments her wretched invulnerability would kick in and she'd begin to regenerate, but for now, at least, she was humbled.

"Now keep quiet or I'll demote you to zombie washer," Selig snapped.

Meg buttoned up. She no doubt remembered the last time she was assigned to wash the zombies. Alas, the cost of power. Selig truly liked Meg. She was a glorious scoundrel with a heart of coal and one hell of a talent for baking. If only Selig could cast off the mantle of his authority, how much happier he might be. If only Virgil would take his hand...

"We have limited time, Virgil. So I must ask you to make your decision. While you may not fully agree with my methods, you cannot impeach my ends. Humanity was lost and sick. The patient, as it were, was dying. Our reckless and relentless pursuit of that which we could never have—true and lasting control over our own destinies—had all but destroyed the world and ensured humanity’s destruction. It was this" (and Selig waved half-heartedly at the zombies and blood-soaked Meg) "or total system failure. Now, I realize you have a thing for making stands and acting noble, so let me be plain. If you take my hand, your dearest wishes will come true. Indeed, in time you will become so powerful that you will not only be able to depose me, but you will also have the power to reset what I have done, to turn back the clock on my cure and return mankind to the brink of disaster you so quaintly refer to as 'The Time Before.'"

"And if I don't?" Virgil asked.

Selig checked the psychic field once more. A veritable ocean of melted zombie hash was at that moment flooding toward them. In moments, the bunker would be underwater...or rather, undergoo. How could this have happened? As Selig asked the question, he knew the answer. This was Lady M's revenge for the monkey. She'd worked a spell of truly breathtaking magnitude. In that moment, Selig stopped regretting his cruelty to Meg. The witch deserved it.

Selig, meanwhile, might need to expedite things a tad.

"Cam zombie will pop open your skull cap and eat your brains out of your head while you're still alive.”

Selig pushed his hand toward Virgil again. Virgil took it. Outside, the last of Lizzie’s magic left her and she dropped from the air with a screech. Simultaneously, Selig pumped all of his magic, all of his power through the handshake into Virgil. Now Virgil would be the zombie king and Selig could go back to doing the things he liked. Reading, rock climbing, and seducing innocent farmgirls (if there were any left in the world). Of course, he still had to find his damn penis. And escape the goo. Oh well. Selig glanced at Virgil, whose whole body was convulsing with the surge of power flowing into him. There were worse things.