*
It was not until he returned to the outside world that Smoothbore heard the news: the Creators had arrived to claim the support of the human civilization they themselves had once fostered, but, unable to live comfortably on Earth, left after only one year. Their fleet of 20,000 ships had already vanished into the endless cosmos.
Smoothbore had barely stepped off the plane when received his first processing order.
Brother Teeth warmly welcomed Smoothbore home with an extravagant banquet in his honor. Smoothbore asked to meet privately with him after dinner, saying he had many things he wanted to get off his chest. When everyone else had left, Smoothbore told Brother Teeth,‘I grew up at your side. In my heart, you have never been my brother,but rather my father. I ask you, should I practice the profession I have studied? Just say the word, and I will obey.’
Brother Teeth put his arm around Smoothbore’s shoulder. ‘If you like it, you should do it. I can tell you enjoy it. Don’t worry about high roads and low roads – people with bright futures will do well whatever path they follow.’
‘As you say.’
Smoothbore drew his pistol and fired into Brother Teeth’s stomach.As the smoke cleared, Brother Teeth looked at Smoothbore. A flicker of shock registered in his eyes before it was replaced by the numbness that follows revelation. He laughed faintly and nodded.
‘You’ve already made something of yourself, kid.’ Brother Teeth spat blood as he spoke and sank gently to the ground.
Smoothbore’s processing order had specified an hour of delayed cooling, but no recording. The client trusted him. He poured a glass of liquor and watched the blood pool around Brother Teeth with cold detachment. One hour later, Brother Teeth drew his last breath.
Smoothbore had spoken truthfully when he said Brother Teeth was like a father to him. On a rainy day when he was five, Smoothbore’s biological father, livid after a huge gambling loss, demanded that his mother relinquish every savings deposit book in the house. When she refused, he simply beat her to death. And when Smoothbore tried to block his father, the man broke his son’s nose and arm and then vanished into the rain. Later, Smoothbore had searched far and wide for him without success. If he ever did find his father, the man had earned himself the pleasure of a slow cooling.