[ IP ] Lava Ruins

_ ( In progress... ) _ 
 
 Walker swore. _Rain again_. He'd been detouring around the toxic vapor plumes and superheated flows for hundreds of miles, but the precincts of the Palace were beyond all expectation. A day of scouting found no approach that did not involve leaping over streams of raw lithic feedstocks. In the end he'd settled on the frontal approach, straight down the embankments of the old Coronation Promenade. He had hoped at least for a dry day to damp down the fires of the fusion nano, but the drops he'd felt said that was n't in the cards either. There was no more time now. It was either move or give up hope. 
 
 He used his command interface to select the three most athletic from his string of proles. He would leave the rest location-restricted to the great elliptical plaza on which they'd camped, surfaced with some tough material that had resisted the nano. Not being optimized for critical thought or self-preservation, unarmored and only moderately enhanced, the three he picked would not survive for long. He toyed for a moment with the idea of setting a release for the others to go feral if he did not return, but it was n't worth the effort. He did take a satchel of supplies to carry himself so that he would have something if his proles landed in the drink. 
 
 The White House rumbled before him as a compromised tower self-demolished and neatly collapsed into the flow beneath. It happened about once a day as new towers grew to replace them. He just hoped the central core remained as intact as the histories imagined it to be. 
 
 Despite his expectations, the first stretch of the Promenade went without incident. Even the proles could manage a four foot leap between sections of what must once have been a broad ceremonial railing over which guests would safely survey lawns and gardens. Though they lacked proper armor, at least the proles had shoes that could resist the nano and keep firm traction on wet stone. Then Walker caught a hint of apprehension in the eyes of one of the proles looking back toward him for guidance. He turned and beheld the great statue that bestrode the Ellipse for the first time - Zeta Infinity, the First Emperor. Without a thought ( it could be dangerous to think about such things ) he knelt prostrate in homage, and the proles naturally followed his lead. Unfortunately one of them touched his cheek to a blob of the red-hot liquid nano that had landed on the bridge, and let loose a purely instinctive scream as it began restructuring him as raw material. Walker gave him a firm push on the chest that sent him off the railing; there was more of a thunk than a splash when he struck the liquid stone far below. `` Glory to the Emperor!'' he shouted, as if it had been a planned sacrifice. Come to think of it, he supposed it was. 
 
 It was not so easy past the final road circling the Palace. The nano flowed everywhere beneath a tumble of fallen patterned-stone chunks, the talus surrounding the mountainous center of the palace. Every fissure belched forth some gas - ammonia, sulfide, phosgene, others with smells he did n't recognize. The proles had no breathing filters and only the most basic biochemical hardening, and were soon coughing up bloody chunks. 
 
 Somehow Walker managed to keep the proles moving until one of them staggered before him into a dark, unobstructed entryway into one side of the Palace. A moment later its software interface reported unauthorized motion, followed in seconds by loss of signal. Reviewing the prole's retinal transcript in slow motion, Walker could see the flying drone bring it to a prison subbasement nearly filled with liquid phase nano. 
 
 Walker swore again. Not only were the security systems functioning; they apparently could resist the nano. If he could not use that as a weapon against them, how would he neutralize them? He pondered the question as specks of nano fell from the towers above him and drifted on the wind toward him, sizzling on the stone or from his armor. His sole remaining prole cowered in terror behind a lone pillar. Finally, he came up with an idea, and handed the prole his gun. 
 
 It is always intriguing to see the remnant proud beast struggle within the harness of domesticity, and never was this more apparent. The prole could not manage a look of hatred, as that was not allowed, nor of course could it actually fire the gun to harm Walker, nor formulate the intent. These things would be apprehended and stopped, and negative conditioning applied. But the prole was ever in the process of _deciding_ to do so, even though it was not permitted to reach a decision. The proles were the last of a group that had called itself'the 99 percent', which had imagined that it could keep a primitive animalistic state of affairs forever; but they had been selected and purged, one betraying another for some scrap of advantage or a promise of freedom, until at last the most compliant had been rewarded with permanent employment. They had always hated, and their hate had always kept them working the harder. Today that hate would serve Walker again. 
 
 He marched the last prole into the side entrance, and it was snatched up by a drone just like the last. When the elevator opened to admit it, he gave the order for it to fire.
