The dial bored Marmon now; he wanted more than that. He wanted to learn and grow and discuss Good and unGood with other fellow men of intelligence. But there was a very real fear of when and where he should announce this newfound evolution to his betters. Would they allow this transformation in him? Would they say he was unGood? He already was beginning to understand how his betters operated; anything they did that was "wrong" could easily be made Good, with enough speeches and laws, as well as something "right" being made unGood as to so fit their needs. Marmon watched and adapted; when the time was right, he would strike, but until then.
Marmon tried to turn the dial, but it couldn't have joyed him less any longer. That old feeling of purpose had up and deserted him, and now his thoughts drifted and strayed to the topics that really drove him; life and love and Good and unGood. The priests allowed him a small notepad and pencil where he could jot down his notes and calculations in the downtime when the meter was low. They didn't seem to mind it much, and he still excelled at his purpose, so the matter never came up. Marmon turned the dial, and poked and prodded at the questions of life and existence and law.
The followers had done just that, camping in a vast shanty town by his humble abode, they had pushed most of the neighborhood away with reverent rhetoric and violent attacks on non-believers. Cornellus had taken up quarters in what Marmon referred to as his drawing room, a five foot by five foot closet room with just enough space for his bodyguard to sleep; day and night he protected Marmon, and was held with a certain reverence (or fear) in this area for his earlier gang related activities. When Cornellus and his men, called the apostles by the common folk, walked down the avenue, people got out of the way. Marmon blessed them daily with an anointment of myhr and pestle, and of course the idea of a heavenly afterlife for their service.
Marmon was stepping out on his front stair one early morning as the light was just peaking over the horizon line, when his food strode over something decidedly not earthen and much more like a squishy human belly. There was a squeal and then a shout, and Marmon looked down to see he had bestrode upon the raggedy man.
"For the love of Good!" They yelped simultaneously, and the mans rambled to his feet with a hasty apology. Marmon gently placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"No harm my brother," he spoke with a smile, "'twas an accident of course."
"My lord holy Good man," the raggedy man fell to his knees, "please flog me for my unGood ways!" he suddenly wailed. Marmon knelt with him and kissed his forehead.
"You are forgiven," the raggedy mans eyes with wet with tears.
"Thank you," he cried, "thank you og God!" Marmon smiled and began to help him to his feet, when the raggedy man stopped him.
"Sit my lord," he said, "sit here," he motioned to the stair. Marmon sat. The raggedy man, with a wild look in his eye, ran across the street and picked up an empty washbin. Carrying it to the well, he filled the bucket with water and then returned. He placed the bucket at Marmon's feet and directed him to put his feet within the bucket, whereupon he grasped the foot and washed it clean in his hands.
"My son," he said, noting his possible sin, and here reached out a hand but the raggedy man gently brushed it away.
"You have shown me the true path," he said, dipping a foot in the clear, but dirtying waters, "and for that I give you what I can." Marmon queried the man no longer, and took his foot bath with a quiet grace. When the raggedy man had finished the water was black with dirt, and for the first time he could remember, Marmon saw the clean, white grey, and bulbous skin of his own toes. He blessed the man once more, whereupon he burst into more tears, then set out down the avenue toward the meeting place of his followers; an unused rotunda at the edge of the neighborhood where had already gathered the might of his flock.
He was joined Cornellus and three of his brothers immediately, falling in around him in a human wall. Cornellus came to his ear.
"What of him?" he asked, nodding toward the raggedy man who squatted where Marmon had left him agonizing over the washbin and its now Holy contents.
"He has the power of any man," Marmon said, "but he is a special case. I see it in his eyes. Tonight, find where he sleeps and give him a Good reason to hate those who would say against us. But don't kill him." Cornellus nodded and fell back as they waded a now growing crowd of followers emptying their homes to walk with him. They paraded down to the meeting place where Marmon delivered to his people his judgements and verdicts, and explained to them the ways of living in Good and noble profession.
"A man is but a man," he spoke to them, "but a man does not have to be but a man. We choose to be what we are, not the other way around; we choose to do Good or unGood, and we choose to be men, or to be kings of men. No creature is born without the ability to do both, so in doing unGood you are merely fulfilling your purpose for the time being. You are needed to do your unGood, for in doing so, you help to show us all what is the Good and true path; and are removed from said path which will lead us into a glorious future where no man is unGood; for no man will have the capability to do unGood. We shall create this place, this kingdom, this utopia, for the generations next, who will look to us, their ancestors, for guidance." They sat and listened and nodded and agreed. He went on.
"Today I was blessed to meet a man in the middle, a man confused with which path to take, which being Good and which being unGood was unknown to him. I showed this man the path, indeed the very path which I have seen, and he was saved from the path that leads to evil. However he choose this path, he chose to do Good over evil and he was given new life. This man then washed the earth from my feet as repayment. But what can repay such a deed? Nothing I tell you, for I have foreseen the very fate of this man, to be routed out and bloodied by those who wish to undermine and usurp Good at their every turn. This Goodly man will suffer for all of you; and you too will see that the true path is Good and that the Good in your heart and mind will light your way in sudden darkness. No matter where you walk, remember to hold that Good within you at all times, and you will never be alone." They called our in prayer to him and he blessed them. The ruse had worked, even before anything happened to the raggedy man. The many were fueled with anger, and it was only a small matter of time before they began bringing him men and women of their own, disguised as unGood agents, and they would confess to him, and he would save them. He had seen now how the machinery behind the curtain operated, and he intended to use it to its full.
That night Cornellus and his men carried out their assault, beating the raggedy man to within an inch of his life, and leaving a calling card emblazoned with the tri corned mark of Melchior, lord of the underword and Satan. This was the god of his enemies, real and imagined, and thus the folk saw it as the proof of Marmon's profession; he was achieving a high new status within the hearts and minds of his people and more joined him each passing day.
More were visited also by the "night watchmen" of Melchior, as they had come to be known; and the many were held in the grip of fear, wondering which of their number would be next to suffer the punishment of their belief. Marmon used this, oh grand orchestrator, to the very best of his advantage; not only was he professing advance knowledge of these attacks (and quite frequently murders) and offering a way to be spared from the wrath of Satan. Marmon told them death was the only way of escape from life, but it would not bring you kingdom nor plenty. The only way to the kingdom was with him; a brash statement to say the least, but Marmon stood by it. If he only believed in the Goodness of his works and was in process of the act of Good, then it would be so.
Marmon had requested a sabbatical from his duties turning the dial; he brought it before Peter and the old priest read his requisition form and offered him a drink of alcohol. Marmon explained his need for time to work with these people, telling the priest of these so called "Sons of Melchior" and their terror of the lesser many. He told Peter of the beatings and rapes and murders, and of his desire to help his people in this time of dire stress. Peter looked at Marmon through his rimmed spectacles and sighed.
"You must be careful my son," the old man said softly, "these sort of thoughts can lead to dangerous things. You are born of the lesser many Marmon, there is no getting away or changing that fact. I know you wish only to do Good and right acts, so I will give you time this once to get these affairs in order, but let this practice not become habit. There are rules and laws we must follow and obey, certain laws of distinction and birth that are irreversible my son. You were born with the brain and capabilities befitting your caste, and your body and soul reflect that as well. Here, look at this chart," he pulled a screen laminated piece of yellowed paper and a metal tool with long pincers from his desk and approached Marmon, "it will give you a better idea of where and whence you have been constructed, by our lord God. The chart read at the top, though Marmon didn't let on his ability to form the letters; the title was "Eugenical Processes for All Race Castes." Peter read him the document aloud in his lilting, sing songy way.
"This is," he said, pointing to a small picture of a young man on the paper, "a normal man, of your caste, probably about twenty years of age and with no describable racial setbacks other than his birth of course. Note the pronounced forehead and pudgy lips, the low cheek bones and sloping eyes. These are signs of a lower intelligence capability," he stood before Marmon with the metal instrument and gestured, "may I?" Marmon nodded. Peter measured the features of Marmon's face with the instrument, carefully and decisively, making notes in his mind as he did.
"See the shape of your brow and eyes, the fatness of your lips, the sloping of your shoulders, these are all the signs of a man born lesser. Now," he pointed lower on the paper to a second picture, another man, quite obviously an Eldar man, " see this, this is a perfect man; an Eldar man. Note the lack of a sloping brow and squinting, unintelligent eyes. See how his chin is pointed, not rounded, and his hair comes to a perfect peak at exactly 45 degrees. The cheeks are high and strong, as is his jaw, his teeth are straight, not crooked and overused like your own, and the shoulders back high and proud; a strong back and noble frame. These are the features which you, and your lot, lack; therefore making you unable to ever acclaim the heights of the Good and Nobel caste. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Marmon nodded, but within he was a raging holocaust of anger and confusion. Hadn't he done enough to break away?
"This chart does not lie," Peter went on, "it shows us only what science and magic have taught us; it does not mean you have no purpose, or that the purpose you do have is not Good enough for the security and advancement of our Grand Society. But it does mean you are striding a dangerous line here; there are those among our race who would take these new ideas of yours as heresy against the Good. In fact, I have heard talk within the walls of the Obelisk that places you with the hosts of unGood, possibly," he added, noting the look of fear in Marmon's eyes, "they're not saying you ARE unGood, but rather it is a question of what exactly you are. There have been only few like you in our history, and fewer even of them who did not drift unto the path of unGood and were destroyed by it. The law is set in stone, remember that, and remember your place." He patted Marmon on the shoulder. Marmon knew it was frowned upon, but he spoke openly to Peter; seeing it as his last and only chance.
"One of those men was Septir Tyrannus, was he not?" Peter gave him a look grave and grey, and nodded solemnly.
"The Seventh Holy Emperor, yes in fact he was born a lesser man of many," Peter said, leading Marmon to the door of his quarters, "but he took his throne by force."
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