The BZ-Metru Story, Chapter 35

Success isn't a result of spontaneous combustion. You must set yourself on fire.

Arnold H. Glasow

It was once said that, in a far away empire many thousands of years ago, an emperor named Nero fiddled while his capital burned. Dimensioneer reflected on this fact as he sat at his desk in the Administrator’s Palace. An outside observer might draw the conclusion that Dimensioneer was likewise doing nothing while his country crumbled. Here he was, sitting behind a desk while mere miles away two armies were about to fight to the death for their respective freedom.

Dimensioneer chuckled at this thought. To say he was doing nothing would be to say that Bohrok were square, or that Makuta was misunderstood. He was the one who was working the hardest of anyone. He was the one who had spend months, if not years planning for this day. He was the one who had the most at stake. He was the one who had set the fire.

But it had not been easy. He had known since the day the idea first crept into his mind that it would not be easy. It had taken much longer and required much more death than originally planned—but they deserved it. Everyone who had stood in his way deserved it. Bionicle Rex, for picking Six as his successor and not Dimensioneer. Gatanui and Screenguy, for coming much too close to finding him out. He had made sure to avoid murder unless the recipient was deserving.

And the victims of the longer than anticipated, drawn out war? He felt no sympathy. In any struggle for power, there were bound to be nameless casualties. It did not matter as long as there were even a dozen citizens to rule. When they revered him, it would not matter.

He sat back in his chair, pursuing every detail of the plan that was about to be fulfilled. Step one, he thought to himself as he reached across his desk to pick up his phone. He dialed and waited for a response.

“Mahalis? The time is now. Strike, and return to the Palace.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply. Mahalis was a loyal servant, one of his finest—one that would make a good deputy once the plan was complete. Until then, Mahalis’ part of the puzzle was fulfilled.

The remainder of the plan was shockingly simple, after such a dramatic buildup. Announce that he, Dimensioneer, had killed Ninjo and that the BZR had officially made peace. The country would at peace, he would be in control, and all it would take to finish his years of striving would be the loading of one computer program.

But there was still one task to be completed: He had to kill Ninjo. Ninjo had been a good pawn, but Dimensioneer had always known this day would come. The virus that he had implanted in Ninjo was nearing its end. Dimensioneer almost pitied Ninjo—at that moment, Ninjo was probably enduring excruciating mental duress, caught somewhere between virus and reality. In that way, Dimensioneer realized, no one could chastise him for his actions. He was only putting Ninjo out of his misery.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled and ancient device from it. On the device was a small lit-up map of the city. On the map, in the south-east corner of GD, was a blinking dot that was inching closer and closer to the Admin’s Palace. That was Ninjo.

Dimensioneer stood up and sighed. Only one small task remained before total domination. So many things could go wrong. But it was of no matter. There were safeguards in place. It was only a matter of time before Hapori Dume was unleashed.