A Purpose

“You should be coming up on the targets soon,” a voice rang in Silva’s mind.

“I see them. Just two— and they’re guardians. Engaging with due force,” she replied with her thoughts. Silva slipped into electric camouflage and became a sculpture of frosted glass. She waved her hands across each person’s neck and they promptly fell to the floor like bags of meat. The taller one fell onto a package. She pushed his body aside to grab it and paused. For a brief moment, she felt she thought or prayed:

Forgive my prompt delivery of these deaths. Return these beings to the ether for the strength of Your Ether. I am Your tool and I hammer in Your Names only. Amen.

She picked up the contraband.

“Is the item secure? You’re six seconds over time.” The messages in her brain failed to hide their impatience.

Silva responded telepathically. “Yes, it is. I think I had a— nevermind. I have the cargo and I’ll be back shortly.” She stole under some freight tracks, pushing away ages of accumulated litter with her feet and then knees, and then arms. Soon she was buried beneath broken computer chips, fast food wrappers, weakly radioactive waste, smut magazines and half-decayed skeletons of vermin. Her toes tapped a hidden doorway open and she dropped eight feet into a sewage passageway. The package let out a cry.

Silva opened the case to find a newborn inside. It wailed and wailed and wailed.

“What the fuck? A recruit? I could’ve used a heads up before almost-damaging it!” Silva was not known to fail at her work or to speak aloud in the middle of a job.

Silence from the boss’s end. Bloodcurdling screams from the baby’s front.

Silva softened. “I know, I know, baby. Existence sucks. There are only things to cry about, here. One day you will help end people from having to deal with them.”

She wrapped the baby in her arms and flew further down into the underbelly of the metropolis.

Part 2.

Two living entities sat adjacent to one another in a dynamic energy box, floating high above Silva’s star system. They had been controlling its history by directing its inhabitants for some time.

“The prayers are getting louder in her mind. I heard it with high clarity this time,” said one.

“Well, the best way to access her ability to deal deathblows is via her religious neuronal network. It’s what makes her good at her job. What would you have me do? We have no other way of…” said number two, exasperated.

“Driving her?”

“Of initiating her killing programs with such efficiency. Aggression centers in these primates are super finicky. We need precise triggers— fleeting moments of religiosity work wonders. It’s the only way to get the mission done right.”

“Well we can’t have every assassin thinking their orders come from on high. It’s too dangerous. Look at brain center 2,398. When there’s enough prayers we have no way to stop from triggering it, and then we have a goddamned god on our hands. Think of what headaches it was to manage the wars the last time it happened!”

“I know about brain center 2,398. I wrote the damn book on brain center 2,398. You don’t need to tell me about brain center 2,398.”

“You know what you have to do. Dispose of Silva before she gets out of hand.”

“Me? Personally? Are you kidding? I’m not going to risk my own lives.”

“Fine. Have the baby do it.”

“It’s going to take a few years… Why are we doing this, again?”