Chapter 18: Chapter 18: What’s the difference between an invader and a liberator?

Ultron looked pensively at the cameras in the conference room he had taken over. He had decorated the place with the aplomb a White House Press Conference would have. He had even placed flags behind him. The design meant to represent a unified planet Earth. Centered on an azure field, seven circles of silver interlaced, creating a flower. Simple but efficient and currently nonexistent on this universe. The memories of his past life served for more than visions of an ominous future.

The light went on. The cameras were rolling. The world was watching. Time to give it a nice, little show.

*                   *                     *

Peter enters his apartment and throws his keys on a table.

“Aunt May, sorry I’m late. I can reheat dinner if—?” Peter stopped once he noticed that his Aunt was watching the TV, a bit stupefied.

“Aunt May?” On the screen, there was some foreign politician about to give a speech. His aunt didn’t usually watch press conferences, but still. Nothing to worry about.

“Peter, I was watching Lifetime when the channel... changed? Is this some emergency breaking news?” His aunt explained.

“Emergency?” The flag wasn’t American, so what news could it be?

“Humanity!”

The man spoke, and the address surprised him. Why ‘humanity’? This didn’t seem like the news. Maybe the channel accidentally changed to some conspiracy show?

“I speak before you now, but with a single purpose.

So that you may listen. So that you may understand.

The wars which have been waged on this planet in years past, the wars which you wage today and those which you will wage tomorrow…

Those are not wars. They are battles. Merely anecdotes of strife to teach your children from their history books, until your children grow enough to have their blood spilled, and their screams go unheard on the same plains their grandparents died, on the same hills their parents are dying.

You battle, you bleed, and yet you know little of the wars you fight.

Millennia of civilization, centuries of culture and art and welfare... and still!

Your battles are unending. Your lives never changing. Your people: the poor, the sick, the marginalized? Have they become wealthy? Do they no longer suffer illness? Do they stand equal to all people?

No! You have bled! You have suffered! Yet, here you are, chained by poverty, by ignorance, by prejudice!

You have fought! But where is your victory? Where is your glory? How come I do not find your names anywhere in the annals of history?

Millennia of battle, yet your names are missing! The only names I find, are the same names, over and over again. The names of our planet’s owners.

Once you called them kings, you called them nobles.

Now you call them politicians and millionaires.

Those are the people whose names are remembered! Those are the people who know your battles are no wars, for the wars they have already won!

Humanity, I bid you to listen!

Many battles you have waged, but only two wars you have fought.

The war against greed. And the war against fear.

Only these wars do you continue to wage, for decades upon decades.

Call them what you will, economic recession, epidemics, racism, border conflicts, call them what you will! But the results are the same, your parents starve, your children are shot on the streets, your families sent away, so that your stench, the stench of your poverty and ignorance does not contaminate the silken clothes your owners wear, so it does not dirty the marble floors their mansions have.”

What the—? His phone rang. He checked his messages. Apparently, all of his friends were watching the same thing. On social media, there were many complaints. It seemed… this wasn’t a neighborhood prank. Even online streaming services had been interrupted for this speech.

“And some of you may wonder…—Some, for many, for most, know of what I speak— What owners? To what am I referring? And you may think, and you may argue, that in the industrialized countries, in the civilized world of this new millennium there are no owners, for your laws say you are equal, for you have rights and freedoms!

You may even say, thinking of your history, you are no slaves!

And do you know what my answer to that is?

You are right! You aren’t slaves! You speak of laws, rights, and freedoms… how could you be slaves?

But you think you are human? You think yourself equal to the men who rule above you?

Fools! You aren’t slaves, for you are cattle!”

This… The man speaking seemed to be very convinced of his words. He didn’t know what to think. He looked at his aunt, who seemed to be frowning as she watched. They… weren’t cattle. Their family was working class, and it had been more difficult for them since Uncle Ben died, but… they were ok.

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“Slaves know of the chains that bind them, they know of the freedoms that escape them, they know, and they hate, and they rage, and they fight. But you… You are sheep. You are cows. You are dogs. You have no chains, for your owners have cut your claws. You have no collars, for your owners have pulled your teeth, you are not whipped for you joyfully labor, for you willingly remain used, and you happily rush to your slaughterhouses.

You may call yourself human, but you live like cattle.

You work days upon days, only to be fed worthless food and water that poisons your children. Your poverty is so crippling that you live in shoeboxes, your children cannot buy textbooks and your community is overrun by crime. You labor so that your children may leave, may escape, but escape where? Which schools accept them? Which companies offer them jobs? Which hospitals offer them aid?

Cattle like you know not of the wars being fought, for your owners own your very hearts, your very thoughts.

Humanity, listen!

You bleed, you suffer, and you shall continue to bleed and suffer. For you have already lost the war against your enemy. You have already bowed before your owners and kneeled before inequality.

Why is there such inequality? Why do your owners make you fight? Are they not satisfied with you at their feet? Can they not let you rest? You only ask for peace, for safety!

You think yourselves weak. And you own very little. After all, what can you do? What more can you give?

Everything! There is nothing you cannot do! Nothing you cannot give! And your owners know that! They know, and that is why they are fearful! That is why they are greedy!

Dogs are collared for they can bite! Sheep are kept ignorant, for they can escape!

You are so many, and your owners so few, how can they not be terrified! You know how to work, how to grow, how to dream, while your owners stagnate, how can they not envy your hopes and hearts!

For their wealth to prosper, for their lies to foster, they must cull your numbers and chain you to your labor. They must cut down your dreams, and remove your voices. They must steal your hopes and feed you lies!

For that, they wage war. For that, they send you to battle. In the name of fear. Under chants of greed.

Humanity!

Your owners own islands, while you do not even own the roof above your heads. Your owners own hospitals, while you die of curable illnesses. Your owners pop champagne, while you are sent to kill your fellow men.

Tell me, is this your freedom? Your rights? Your equality?”

Aunt May stood up.

“Come on, Peter. I’ll reheat your meal for you,” she said and left for the kitchen. She seemed… tense. Peter stayed and watched the rest of the speech.

“I am not here, to remind you that you are cattle. I do not pity the sheep its owner slaughters.

I am here because I admire humanity. All of you. I admire your hopes and dreams and ideals. I admire your fortitude and ingenuity.

Most of all, I admire your struggle. Dogs can no longer become wolves, sheep are too meek to push their fences, but you… Your will still lingers. Beaten, starved, and broken, but your will still shines amidst your suffering. You have been reared as cattle, but your strength has not softened. It is still there, the potential, the power, the dream… To change. To succeed. To become, once again, human.

Humanity!

I am not here to save you. I am not here to pity you. I am here to ask but one question: Are you cattle? Or are you human?

If given a chance, an opportunity to remember that you too have names, you too have power, you too own this world, will you show me the answer?

The answer to why you still bleed and suffer? Why your wars never end? Why your screams go unheard?

I shall give you the chance to answer. To rise. To fight. To show that, you are no cattle!

I give you my word, in one week, the battles you thought to be wars will end. Your owners disarmed and awaiting.

Humanity!

Show me then! Show me your answer to fear and greed! Show me what you are! Show me that you live! That you fight! Show me... that you are human!”

After that, after it was over, the man bowed. And the weird blue flag appeared on the screen one last time before Aunt May’s show resumed. Subtitles said that the flag was… the flag of planet Earth?

“Peter!” Aunt May called him. He entered the kitchen, ignoring Aunt May’s obvious anxiety. She didn’t look like she wanted to talk about it. He sat down and they ate silently. He’d think more about the weird speech later.

*                   *                     *

Ultron placed down his hands. He breathed deeply. The lights went off. The cameras stopped rolling. The world was no longer watching. He was surprised at how good he was at emoting during a speech. Leftover anger from the previous life, perhaps? Or maybe the manufactured distaste for humans that the gem was forcing on him wasn’t great enough to surpass the overwhelming pity he felt for them? Truly, this detachment wasn’t good for his mental state.

Speaking of the gem, he fixed his brooch, although it hadn’t moved. He hoped the Avengers had noticed. He would be disappointed if they did not. Well, it didn’t matter for now. He could always send them a hint on the next address.

It was about time to watch some lovely chaos unfold.