When a word becomes wrung out and meaningless, sometimes it acquires new meaning. A soul was once what differentiated us from beasts. Now souls are what lets us access the global marketplace, to barter and sell and buy. If you're soulless, you're no better than an animal. I guess it's not words that change after all, but we.
Yesterday, Odovacar stole my soul, "For the greater good." He said.
The soul is more than a tool. The soul is a source of power, an engine that compels you. The soul is tied to you, to your mind and nervous system. To have a soul, and then lose it, is like dying without death.
I tracked Odovacar. Others had been robbed too. Each told the same story: "For the greater good." Madness. There is no good, only the market.
The Great Wormhole Nexus Bazaar. A fancy name for your run-of-the-mill grey-legal jackerware, mindbleach and fleshmods marketplace, erected in a decommissioned Particle Accelerator. We thought.
I tracked him to the old control room, humming with stolen souls.
"What good?" I asked.
"The greater." He answered, and powered the Accelerator.
The beings that came through were lambent, immaculate; they burnt away all imperfections; bodies, marketplaces. Only souls remained – inveterate, real.