Towards the absolute transformation of the heart of Pueblo, silent Alkrezian masses had already gathered in the night. This had to be the first time in their lives the forced converts were in a crowd; Pueblo had joined No Man's Land and total strangers were rare to come by. It was impossible for everyone to be local. Considering impossibilities, the gibbous moon also pierced the concoction of smog and nocturnal clouds, emitting an undulating circle of moonlight that made the night hauntingly bright. Whether this was by fortune or misfortune was up to each marcher to decide, but the leaning and rusty streetlights that had been erected in the century prior were not needed tonight.

  Within the uniformed cracks of the crowd were not Prophet Ameen's personal inquisitors, but the the local priest's auditionees that were designated with their holographic masks. Nobody had any intention to question their devotion, but their golden and cathode ray-like helmet conjured by faint earthplexus waves omitted Alkrezian sigils altogether. A helmet of light neglected facial indentations, a hint to either being a hurried creation or that particular inquisitor further not wanting to be mistaken as one of the inquisitors.

  "At... around three of the afternoon, we were able to seize all of the talking animals of this town. Blessed we will be when we free them of the demons that possess them."

  Leading up to the creation of talking animals in the century prior there had been a dangerous optimism regarding their existence; their manifestation. From science fiction to non-fiction.

  "Our sacrifice will be the catalyst for Prophet Ameen to finally lay judgment on this wretched, sinful, decadent town."

  When the undulating crowds settled, the focal point of the downtown gathering made itself apparent. Downright terror fell upon the caged domestic animals when the executing technology was erected by an unknown flux user. Underneath the prisoners and the radicalized priest with the megaphone, from the concrete that made up the intersecting streets and the plazas, sprouted roots that shapeshifted into flat planks. Sentient enough to consider collisions, the overland decks slowed down to wait for bystanders to begin walking away, and when there was enough room for the stage it subsequently rose to an elevation reminiscent of medieval gallows, contrasting the rusty holographic grids behind the crowds.

  "It had been written in every religious text, from the Torah to the Aulasy that we hold dominion over them, as we have souls and they do not."

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  The dangerous optimism of the past had declared that talking pets would bring world peace; it was indeed human to create and devote themselves to a universal solution. A future fantasy to fabricate rather than trying to change the present.

  And it indeed seem like a bright present at first, but then the talking animals wanted more autonomy.

  To walk themselves out whenever they wanted.

  To choose whichever families they wanted.

  To work.

  To have free will.

  It was childish to attribute good or evil to all of humanity, but there was one factual attribute, one that remained everpresent across millions of timelines. What made a homo sapien human was their incessant need for control. Their need to control others remained impossible to deprogram.

  "I see some of you are crying, but do not despair. Let it be known that you are giving them the greatest gift of all for putting them out of their misery. To finally be at peace."

  Upon the stage settling in its growth after hushed amens, the outlines of a Molochian structure with human limbs rather than horns and hooves budded behind the priest. The makeshift seven chambers had an organic appearance to them until they smoothed and manifested hammered-in nails, eventually spawning eye-like thresholds leading to numinous furnaces.

  Already having been exhausted from whimpering during the dark day, the spotting of the lethal chambers brought about enough terror to get the talking animals to cry for help once more. Their human-like voices brought more discomfort to some of the converts being illuminated by spawning and igniting ceremonial torches.

  Please Prophet Ameen! See our devotion to God that will be demonstrated tonight! Liberate us and these animals from this world, and punish the flying cities for being refuge to the heathens!

  During this pause from the priest, a drum machine beat could be heard in all directions. When the crowd and the priest meandered their heads in confusion, synthesizers filled in the gaps within the percussion, becoming an obvious electronic beat fit for a nightclub. Away from the Alkrezians gathered, under the collapsed storefronts in a plaza, almost-naked men with only chaps began dancing towards them. From a row of the only homes that could be found nearby, from inside their smashed garage doors, lesbians walked their bikes towards Alkrezians trying to catch up to the crowd further down. While being too busy observing the parade that was taking shape, salacious floats somehow made it above the stage of death as the music grew in intensity and volume.

  "This was expected. This town is full of sinners. If you are a believer, kill these sodomites where they stand! For Prophet Ameen!"

  The litmus test between the long-term believers and new converts was cast upon them by Camilo's father by title only, the new converts either standing or running away while the believers either grabbed their weapons or began running towards the fist-pumping humans. And during these myriad of distractions, two fourteen year olds in black clothing made it to the caged talking animals.