Battle Cry of the Humans

"I assure you, Mr. Howard, we'll have your designs built and ready for public use within the season. By this time next month you will be seeing your saw bed in every warehouse in New York, including my own. In time, we'll expand distribution to other states, but you can at least expect that for now. You and I both benefit from this arrangement, and I would not dream of performing subpar to what I have promised." The hum of machinery droned on below, separated from Lex's elaborate office by a newly installed sound-proof glass and insulated walls.

Business had been well as of late. His office was adorned with a collection of new furniture and other trinkets to make it feel something more of a home. Even as the phone was held to his ear, he fiddled with his free hand on a rotating disk resting on his large, wooden desk. It spun under the light of the overhanging lamp, shadows reflecting off four smaller openings in the outside of the disk to create an effect of a line tracing underneath. "Yes, I sympathize, a business like yours can drag on seemingly longer than it is in reality. Do not fear, this company presides over hundreds of projects with a level of expertise unmatched in the States. I won't let you down."

Few more pleasantries were exchanged, before Lex hung up the android and slid it back on the desk. "Ah, the politics of economics. How tiresome." he mused softly to himself, reclining back on his large, leather chair with his hands interlaced behind his head and eyes studying the steel ceiling above him. While the factory had seen a huge boost in productivity and contracts since his taking over from the poor fool who'd previously owned it, and while he had brought in numerous improvements, sadly there wasn't much he could do to the building proper. Once he could purchase land and build a new location, then a new office could be made in his design, but until then...

His musing was interrupted by the changing of the channel. Or rather, that typical interception the media employed when something 'significant' transpired. Lex's attention shifted to the large flat screen as he readjusted in his chair. A woman with billowing dark hair read off the words of a note released to them by one Peyton Powers. Lex recognized the name, he'd come across it as one of the many writers in this new world as he attempted to get his bearings, but he thought nothing else of it. Her theme of writing was not one that interested him. Lex didn't care that she was a neohuman, nor who she was. But what he did care about was her message, as he leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of his chin.

It was an inspiring call for resistance against everything this government sought to do. To stand up for themselves in a way that wasn't openly confrontational but that paved the way for unity between the neo population and humanity. It ended with her sign off as it were, claiming she would be captured or killed, followed by the hosts giving their own inconsequential opinions. Oh, the neo-net would love this. Their ranks were already filled with discontent with the current regime. In spite of Ms. Powers attempt to accompany her message with an ideological peace, it would only be a matter of time before other neohumans took it entirely the wrong way.

"If his forces are united, separate them." He mused, clicking the television off with a tap of the black remote on his desk. "Ms. Powers, in your haste to fix an already broken reality, you may have concisely made it even worse. Were you so blinded by a dream that could never be that you failed to realize? For every religion there are fanatics, for every idea there are extremes. And your call to the masses, dear Ms. Powers, is all the pull the fanatics in this world need to cut loose." He rose from his chair and walked to the window, overlooking the construction underway below.

His mouth curled to a smile, and a chuckle reverberated from his throat. "And, Ms. Powers, I owe you my thanks. Because of your cry, those extremists on both sides will give in to the very same haste you gave in to. They will act. There will be a war. And I thank you." The machines, manned by countless workers all throughout the factory, produced their craft, fabricated parts shipped off all over the state. For every piece shipped, it was a contract. And for every contract, every deal, Lex saw a fortune. Opportunity was a resource Lex had mastered the art of harvesting, and what better opportunity was there than what Peyton inadvertently set into motion?

"I do thank you. Because a war is exactly what I need."