I stood on the crest of a hill, gazing at the building which was once Special Circumstances Headquarters. It had been converted into a new surge hospital last year. Since the mind rain, all kinds of ridiculous surge had been permitted, and the trend was so popular more buildings were required to accommodate all the pretties. Sighing, I got into my hovercar and ordered it to return to Crumblyville.

I was entering the final few years of my life. My doctor had recommended life-extension treatment in the very near future, but I had refused. There was no reason to artificially enhance my life, it would be pointless. My life had really ended several years ago, when I was despecialized and Tally Youngblood became the most well-known person in the world.

My hovercar slowed to a stop. "Residence of Angela Cable," the polite computerized voice stated. I wearily stepped out of my car. I was still irritated the way this body reacted to my commands. Nothing could compare to the way my Special body moved, gracefully and energetically. But that had all changed after the mind-rain, after Tally Youngblood had "revolutionised the Pretty-Ugly regime".

I saw her just once after the day that I rescued her. Out of mere curiosity, I had taken a trip to Diego, the city which I had once initiated a war against. She and her Smokie friend, David, were fighting the City officials. They were attempting to cut down trees for a new city dorm. I shuddered at how the world had changed since I was in charge. Didn't they realise that they were destroying it, the way the Rusties did before us? Society would always be Rusties at heart.

I retreated to my living room, snickering at the term. I wasn't doing any living. I resided alone, and since the Diego war the only visitors that I had ever had were from my Cutters. They had visited me after hearing from Tally what a pathetic crumbly I was, out of pity. However, they were not my Cutters anymore, not really. They had cured their minds of Specialness. They had betrayed me; after all I had given them. I asked them not to return.

I often wonder if saving Tally Youngblood was a mistake. It was a cruel twist of fate indeed that Tally was the last Special, the one who hadn't been cured. Of all the Cutters, recruiting Tally as a Special had been as much out of necessity as for her usefulness to us. Of all of the new Specials, Tally was the last I would have expected to avoid a cure, which was all she had ever wanted when she was a pretty. But I couldn't let my work for many decades become extinct, even if the person who benefited from it most was a bothersome adolescent who couldn't keep her opinion to herself.

I told the room to switch on the feed highlights for the day. My wall abruptly converted into a large video screen, displaying a video montage of today's events. As I anticipated, there was no worthwhile news. The post-scarcity system had been abolished soon after my "retirement", and it had been replaced. The new system involved increasing your popularity to raise your quality of life. The easiest way to do this was for young pretties to post feeds covering popular topics, so the news these days was always filled with drivel.

I ordered the room to kill the video, and sank down onto an artificial leather lounge. Not for the first time, I pondered the ways in which Tally Youngblood had made me rethink my views on the world. I had to admit, however reluctantly, that I could see her point of view. When I was Special, my brain was designed to see the world as black and white. Now I could see that it was really a thousand shades of grey.

I knew that this issue would be debated for many decades after my passing. Should humans be allowed to live freely, to have their own personalities? Or should they be contained, to save the earth from future damage? When I was Special I was completely in favour of the latter. Now I couldn't help but empathise with Tally's outlook on the issue.

It was difficult for me to accept this, because if I did, my entire life had been pointless. All the decades which I had spent ensuring the continuation of the pretty-ugly regime, forcing rebellious uglies to get the operation… I shuddered at the thought that it had been for nothing.

Was there a solution to the problem? Would there ever be one that suited everybody, and was ethical and logical? I couldn't think of one, short of moving to another planet, which was a ridiculous thought.

Even if the Special method was mistaken, I truly did believe that I was doing the right thing. My brain had been programmed to make me believe I was superior, so was I really to blame for my actions? Whether I was to fault or not, the fact remains that I now had nothing to show for my years of effort. I had been defeated by a sixteen year old adolescent who knew nothing of Special Circumstances, and my many years of experience hadn't ultimately helped me at all. I was now eccentric, elderly, and alone. Could you really blame me for despising Tally Youngblood?