4. Future Mentor of the King

 

Two days before Ceoda Moore first meets with King Remipor 

For a successful Tycoon like myself, it is always important to keep around someone that is the complete opposite of you. That person is Meeroc Davies, he is a daily consumer of our vast media selection, a modern day slacker, consumes drugs every chance he’s around me, so that he can blame his stupidity on the substances he intakes. Meeroc clearly won’t pass my Exporta IQ test, but I’ll get him a pass though, because I’m just too darn curious to see his growth as a person. Would allowing Meeroc become immortal give him the time to grow out of his weak mind? If so, how many lifetimes would it take? My phone sends me a text notification, its Annel, my Tuesday assistant, she texts, “Mr M. Davies is outside.” 

“Meeroc?” I shouted, then the doors to my office opens. Meeroc’s stupid but he’s lucky enough to be born with some above-standard visuals. I paid for all his living expenses and outfits, perks of being a Quadrillionaire’s childhood buddy. 

“Ceoda Moore, the f**k you want with me?” Meeroc said casually, he’s the only one who talks to me this way. I allowed him to continue this because surrounding myself with ignorance is good practice for my intellection of the concept. 

“Just done inventing something new, and I know you’ll like to hear it,” I replied.

“Should we get high first? Or maybe you should, I’ve started already,” he unsurprisingly suggested. 

“I’ll have to stay sober for the next few hours, but maybe after midnight?” I suggested.

“HoHo, I canny wait,” he grinned, while walking to my corner bar.

“A story before the invention reveal, I presume,” asked Meeroc, pouring himself a glass of my berry red wine.

“I see that my habit has dictated your prediction,” I responded, he managed an embarrassed laugh.

“Influenced sounds better than dictated, especially when you’re addressing a friend.” 

“I”m sticking with dictated.” I smirked and continued. “You’ve been known to have an undesirable memory, but do you remember that night when you helped me escape?” he nodded, then said, “Just vaguely, I could outline it for you, though I don’t think I could recite the damned event,” he made eye contact, “but you could?”

“Luckily I can,” Meeroc passed me his wine, I took it for a sip and continued. 

“We were both nine year olds and my insane dad was going through a very paranoid phase, were he kept me locked up, for safety reasons,” I eyed at him, “you were assigned as my personal errand boy at the time, and we used to make ugly faces at one another. I would try really hard to guess what the f**k you were projecting. Until one day, I decided to just talk to you. More like a demand actually…” 

“You asked me to help you escape,” added Meeroc.

“And you did,” I see Meeroc’s chest puffing up, obviously feeling some pride of his youthful bravery.  

“But then I got us caught, by talking too loud. And your insane father offered me to be killed!” he said, without the energy one might expect when ranting like he is. 

“At least I managed to use my nine year old wit to save you.”

“And to do that, you basically insulted me, by stating me a simpleton. And that keeping I around would make you look even smarter.” 

“You get to live, and I get to look good, not a bad balance right?” 

“How does this relate to your new invention?” shouted Meeroc, in a playful way.  

“You attempted to save me, so I owe you, hence why you’re living life like a Billionaire. But now I’ve invented something that will give you the chance to have my back eternally,”

“I’m not understanding you, Ceoda.” 

“I have been meaning to increase the intelligence of my Planets population for quite some time now. So I created a machine called Exporta, and it exports your brain into another vessel, basically it’s a scientific way of practicing immortality. But the catch is that I’m only allowing it to those who are smart to the national limit I deem fit. This will allow the stupid to die out and the smart intellects to live on forever.” 

Meeroc’s frowning a lot for some reason, probably worried about not getting an Exporta due to his intelligence. 

“Exporta could increase my populations intelligence by over 218% within 3 generations, and Planet Moore will have invented much more than they would have in 84 years.”

“Or, civil war could irrupt,” he rebuffed.

“Not unless I advertise it right. Look, Exporta will genuinely make Planet Moore the most elite place for geniuses, and why wouldn’t they want that? Maybe the slogan could be ‘Benefit our world, in a much faster way.’ Or maybe I should just leave the slogan to my advertising teams. Though… People are selfish, they’ll do anything to live longer than what we’re capable of.”

“Wouldn’t this f**k up your belief in total balance,” asked Meeroc.

“It’s a progressive balance. Centuries from now, I will be classed as the new stupid because the current stupid would die out without Exporta’s. New geniuses will arise and harder Exporta tests will be created, and thus the new balance.”

Meeroc half agreed and departed to take drugs, it was too much for him I guess. He has a lot of stupid friends and outliving your pals is usually hard to adapt. I do hope he toughens up within a few lifetimes though. The reason why I kept him around isn’t because of that stupid escape story, it was what happened next. My dad and I had planned for Meeroc to help me escape, then to have us purposely caught, so that I could save him instead. Therefore Meeroc would be in my dept, as well as the usual loyalty that comes with saving a lowborn. My dads paranoia wasn’t fake though, he wanted me to have a trusted servant to grow up with, someone half smart but still manipulable. It’s a pretty fucked up way to gains one trust, but I’m glad its Meeroc. Am always surrounded by people far more interesting and I still prefer Meeroc's company. I feel stupid around him, yet smarter when am not. So what if I ditch him completely or avoided him for just one lifetime to test both our independence? 

I turned the volume louder on my TV, the Universal News is playing on channel one. Anchorman Johniel Franklyn is interviewing me tonight, hence why I have to stay sober. He is in the middle of hyping up my arrival it seems. 

“The day our scientists figured out how to physically move our Planets from one place to another, they had every profitable world shifted to surround the Sun for all its farming benefits. Earth has been selling its soil, making mass sums of profit, but most Planets rarely have any water to feed their crops.” 

“Our Galactic Government, the ‘G. G’ has decided to make their profits then, they owned Pluto at the time which was situated next to Ceoda’s own personal world called Planet Moore. Pluto’s sole purpose was to create water for transportation to other worlds. This act in our history made Earth into a Quadrillionaire Planet, and the G. G. into a Quientillionaire power house.” 

“Ceoda Moore was still a millionaire at this stage, and young. Later, Ceoda invented a universal transportation system that is seven times as fast as the G. G. space ships, and carries up to 25 times more water. Moore named it Ceoda Transports, 'C. T.' for short. The G. G. wanted to buy C. T. for 50 Billion, and Ceoda offered another deal instead, which is to make her chief executive officer of Pluto, and 90% of the water profits would go to the G. G. They accepted and Ceoda bagged 10% and kept all transportation fees, making her net-worth over 300 Billion.”

“Then she created a marketing website called Ceoda.com. It is a universal online market that uses C. T. Ships to trade anything legal, you can buy clothes from exotic Planets, experience foods from certain worlds, buy stocks etcetera. This added a whopping 600 Billion to her net-worth within the first year, and now she’s known to be the richest female in the Galaxy. With a current net-worth of over 890 Quadrillion!” 

“Ceoda Moore is currently on her C. T. Ship travelling to be here tonight at 9pm to discuss her next big project." Recited Anchorman Johniel Franklyn. I muted the TV then. Nobody, including my friends, fans or spectators understands my personality. Most of what they know is based on their theories about me. I just go along with it because its fun witnessing their limited imaginations. And if I died, most of what they say about me will be fiction, based on tiny little fractions of who I actually was. 

We are close to arriving on Planet Broadcast in less than an hour, it is a small world, built for all communications, the G. G. Head Quarters of Contact is based there also. I haven't been interviewed since I retired from my rapping career, and I selected this place for a reason. Whomever owns the mainstream media controls the mood of a world, and Planet Broadcast live streams to the whole Galaxy, all except Earth. I have been secretly buying stocks and influence on this Planet, slowly creeping my power into the roots of this small world. A text from Annel interrupted my cynical thoughts, it reads, “D’s outside.” My designer arrived with a selection of dresses. I decided to wear my most iconic outfit. It is what I wore on my most popular music video. I haven’t been on Planet Broadcast for ages, nearly four years. But as expected, my fans were here to greet me. My C. T. ship is currently parking and half my security team has already arrived via another transport. They were doing the usual scouting routine, so that I wouldn’t have to wait on arrival. Meeroc is beside me, dressed in a tight suit coloured anthracite, with no tie and a grey scaled turtleneck.

Being a successful rapper, then suddenly quitting to become a full-time engineer has confused many of my fans from around the Galaxy. I basically released one of the most lyrical albums of our era, then quitted. Each song has been on the number spot, gaining me millions, about 87 million sold back then, and now roughly over 2.6 Billion copies has been sold. People have written books about me, studied me, sent me dick pics, and delivered hand made d****s. I have been mocked and analysed for all my public appearances, but I have never taken advantage of my fame for sex, nor spent any of the earned money from my rapping career. I was known as Ceo during my musical career, and now for the first time, I am taking advantage of my rapping fame to gather my fans to watch me broadcast to the Galaxy. My Ceo fans have been speculating that I’m announcing a new album today, and I am currently wearing one of my outfits from my rapping days, to rouse up an even bigger audience for the Exporta launch. No one knows about Exporta except Meeroc. He’s standing next to me at the entrance of my C. T. Ship. Over four million people screaming at us in awe, in desire and in lust. Meeroc patted me on my back and said, “They cheering for Ceo the rapper? Or Ceoda Moore the genius engineer?” I smirked for him, and smiled for the cameras as I started walking down the stairs of my C. T. Ship. I waved to them and they chanted, “C-E-O, C-E-O, C-E-O!” Meeroc’s body language projected disdain but his face carried a public smile.

“Seems like they’ve answered your question, Meer.” 

“Can’t believe they’re more excited on the idea of a new album than an actual life changing invention.” Meeroc delivered the line in pure frustration, while maintaining his iconic facial expression: a half smile, half frown look. 

“They don’t even know I’ve got a new invention, all they know is Ceoda Moore has a new project to reveal. And when I wear an outfit like Ceo the rapper, then the only speculation they can come up with is that I have a new album announcement.” 

“They're going to feel cheated,” he replied. 

“Revealing Exporta will reverse their overused emotions.”

I signalled for my escort team, and they arrived with an enhanced version of a golf cart. I sat in it with Meeroc and waved our way to the entrance of their Broadcast station. I see custom signs reading out some of the lyrics I used. Quite a lot of fans dressed like me, most got un-dressed for me. 

“How did I invoke so much sexual desire,” I asked Meer, he just laughed and said, “Is that an actual question? Because its pretty self explanatory,” he cheekily said. 

I looked around, a clueless expression dawned upon me.

“Them getting naked is due to my looks, Ceo.” This may seem like a joke but Meeroc is known to be very attractive man, tagging along with me has made him semi-famous. 

“I think you’re right, Meer.” I mean, I’m not ugly or deformed but Meeroc Davies has made even me look small at times. 

The golf cart stopped mid way from the entrance of the broadcast station, were fans surrounded everywhere, with an army of bodyguards between us. The broadcast station has become an icon of modern day architecture. It is designed to look like a vintage 1960 Shure brothers 55, S dynamic microphone. It measures to 823 feet tall, with over 500 broadcasting rooms. We were greeted by a strong public handshake from anchorman Johniel Franklyn. This guy’s net-worth is over 200 million, not bad for just reporting the news, eh. He’s been known to hustle non-scripted answers from his talk show guests, but he’s never interviewed a Quadrillionaire before. I smirked at him, he blushes blue. Then it was Meeroc’s turn in shaking his hand, Johniel blushes red. I pat him on the back, and we took a slow walk in. 

“Thank you for travelling here, Ms Moore. If you could follow me, I can lead us to the pre-party,” said Johniel, I gave Meeroc a look and he answered for me. 

“Pre-party sounds fun, who’s there?” 

“Just our 1000 plus staff,” Johniel responded proudly. 

“How long till the interview starts,” asked Meeroc, unfazed.  

“We’ll take a lap round the party, then I’ll have my assistant escort Ms Moore into the dressing room. Sound good,” asked Johniel.

“Sure,” I said. The lap around the pre-party reminded me of how much I hated the media industry. I wasn’t greeted by the 1000 plus staff, the party was full of celebrities in all genres of film and music. There is barely any tech engineers here, apart from the technicians that keeps the broadcast station on air, but even their pushed back into the corner of the pre-party. No one asked me if I was releasing a new album, they knew I wouldn’t answer them truthfully. They just assumed I’d already recorded it, and was hoping to be on my next album. I’ll save you all the complements I got, as well as all the a*s kissing because it just isn’t worth my efforts on repeating them. It’s predictable and boring. I looked over to Johniel and said, “Dressing room?” it wasn’t a question, more like a demand presented in kindness.

“Of course, I’ll leave you with my assistant and I’ll see you on air real soon.” His tone was goofy, and he smiled with his teeth half visible. 

“Hi, I’m Johniel’s assistant.” I can already see Meeroc eyeing her, someone who is in league with his looks, thats rare. 

“No name,” asked Meeroc, clearly flirting. 

“Its Epipely Darlyner, please follow me. This way,” she directed us into the dressing room. It was plenty big, too big a room for only one thing, which is getting TV ready. I had my checks blushed with a light reflective substance, white powder to be precise. Epipely asked if Meeroc could wait in the private party. She had him escorted out with another hot assistant, named Frana. When the doors closed, she faced me. We looked at each other for a few undesired seconds. 

“I’m ready to go live, if Johniel is,” I finally said. Awkwardness isn’t usually a thing I deal with.

“He’ll be ready soon, but you can wait here if you want?” suggested Epipely.

“I think I want to wait at the private party, it sounds fun,” I lied. She walked from the door to where I was sitting. I was seated on a chair and she was near 5 inches away from my knee. She’s staring at me intensely again. 

“You geniuses must be so curious all the time, huh?”

“It mandatory with us,” I replied sharply. She kneeled down, her head facing my torso with her eyes on my eyes. 

“You must be curious right about now,” she said.

“I know I’m only curious about one thing.” I stood up and she smiled wider, “I’m curious as to why you’re acting so unprofessional? I mean, I was going to hire you as one of my weekly assistants. Due to my friend Meeroc taking a liking to�"” I paused and pointed at her, “�"THIS.” I starred into her deeply, and she got up. 

Then I started to voice mail Annel, “Tell Johniel Franklyn, that his assistant is acting like a sexual opportunist.”

She attempted to slap me, but her common sense clicked in. Epipely knew I had enough money to buy Planet Broadcast and ban her from it. So she just stormed out the door. I heard whispers, then 30 something seconds later, she walked back in. 

“Please, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose my job.” I nodded her to leave. Meeroc walked in then.

“What the f**k nut job?” shouted Meeroc, I knew he was standing outside the whole time. I sat back on my chair. 

“What,” I asked.

“You just avoided one of the hottest girls on this Planet. Even I had weak legs for her.” 

“I was going to hire her for you but she failed the endurance test,” I said. Meer just stood there, waiting for me to tell the whole story.

“She got pissed off instead, and when people fall into that state so easily. Then surely I must avoid them at all cost,” I finished. 

“Everyone gets pissed off, it’s a popular emotion that even the most powerful human can’t control.” His tone directed that last line at me. 

“Meeroc, her reason doesn’t qualify for the overused emotion.” 

“Not everyone has top notch self control.” 

“Another reason to avoid her,” I snapped. Annel texted me then, “Interview starts in 5 minutes, and what is the name of Johniel's assistant? He has three in total.” I chuckled, and texted, “Forget the sexual opportunist, have someone escort me to the interview, now.”