Free Interest by Kevin Gaughen

outnumber Saskels?”
    “For various sociological reasons, that very thing has been happening with increasing frequency. When Xreths overpopulate, the Dranthyx have them culled. It had to be done several times in the twentieth century: Congo, Cambodia, Turkey, USSR, Germany, China, and even here in Japan.”
    Len tried to think of the common theme between those places. “You mean genocides?”
    “Yes. Genocides usually have an ideological pretense, but their real purpose is to kill off excess Xreths to prevent civil unrest. In any genocide, you will notice that a society’s intellectuals are the first to be killed.”
    “This is heavy.”
    “It is about to get heavier, Mr. Savitz. Constant uprisings and protests around the world indicate that the Xreth population has exceeded the Dranthyx’s desired equilibrium. If the Dranthyx do not intervene soon, Xreths will soon outnumber the other two types, and the Dranthyx will have trouble staying in control of the human race. We believe the next cull will be global and number in the billions.”
    “Dear God. So this is real? What can we do to stop it?”
    “The Dranthyx are quite powerful. The last time We intervened, twenty-seven hundred years ago, a war ensued between Ich-Ca-Gan and the Dranthyx, and fourteen of Us were killed.”
    “Fourteen? How many Dranthyx died?”
    “Millions, mostly due to technology asymmetry. As a journalist, you may be interested to know that the war inspired parts of the Hebrew Bible and other mythological scriptures of the time.”
    “So what happened?” Len asked impatiently. “Did you win?”
    “We entered into a truce agreement with the Dranthyx, and since then We have remained uninvolved. We agreed not to interfere in their culls, and they agreed not to interfere with Our education of the human race.”
    “The cull that’s coming…how will they do it?”
    “We do not know. Probably just as they have done them before.” The creature paused for a long time as Len was writing, then abruptly said, “Mr. Savitz, you must leave now.”
    “What? Why? I just got started!”
    Len heard a helicopter approaching in the distance.
    “This monastery will soon be in grave danger. We believe you have enough information now.”
    “Can we talk again tomorrow?”
    “No. Good day, Mr. Savitz. Please leave now.”
    Ich-Ca-Gan’s tentacle quickly peeled away from Mutoku’s head. Mutoku fell forward, unconscious, and Len leaned out quickly and caught Mutoku by the arm before he hit the floor and broke his nose. Mutoku came to within a few seconds and stumbled to his feet quickly without getting his bearings. Neglecting the customary bows, Mutoku shambled dizzily out of the room, yelling something in Japanese. Someone outside began clanging a gong. Others began ringing bells and running through the halls, yelling. Mutoku ran back into the room and lifted Len by his arm.
    “It is time to go!”
    “What’s happening?”
    “The Great Master hears police radio broadcasts. No time to explain.”
    Len quickly gathered his things, thankfully remembering to grab his suitcase as Mutoku ran with him through the monastery. As they bustled out, monks were lining up in the main hall, which reminded Len of the way fire drills were practiced in American grade schools, except the monks were lined up with their backs to the exit, as if they would be going farther into the building. Mutoku pulled Len through the kitchen, slid open a door, and shoved him out. Len came down on his backside in a narrow alleyway behind the monastery.
    “If anyone asks, you are a tourist and you do not speak Japanese! Now get going!” Mutoku shouted before slamming the door shut.
    Len scrambled to his feet, shoved the items he had been carrying into his suitcase, and did his best to walk down the city sidewalk, wheeling the suitcase behind him, without seeming panicked or attracting attention.
    Once he was about a block away, several police trucks emblazoned with “Special