It takes about twenty people to run the world, and you only get to do it if you’ve been really, really awful.
There’s a waiting list.
“So what’d you do?” asks Barclay, peering through a porthole into the center of the Earth. Inside, ragged men shriek and stumble on the treadwheel, watched and occasionally electrocuted by cold-eyed imperators.
“Finance,” says Mathers shortly. “You?”
Barclay checks his phone again (still no service). “A little arms,” he says, “a little dope.”
“I invented the Electric Slide!” says Wellburn, which is just his little joke, he actually killed a lot of old people.