XVII

"Don't go, Rick," Morty moaned, head drooping.

""Why?" Rick whirled, his glare unseen by defeated Morty.

"Because you're leaving with plans to figure out what's going on and you'll do something awful and I'd rather see if I can contain the damage."

Rick's glare vanished, replaced by a twisted smile, pleased with Morty's flattery and concession.

"I appreciate that Morty," Rick said, walking to the refrigerator for another beer. "It saves a lot of time when my opponent sees checkmate in five."

Morty looked up again, "It's an offer of a stalemate, Rick. Before you win a PyrRick victory."

"And here I thought you were coming down to Earth in terms of the sparring we have to do sometimes," Rick said, popping open a Simple Rick's IPA.

"I said "PyrRick victory. You can always beat me, Rick, even when you shouldn't. Because winning means more to you than anything else. Morals, ethics, love, relationships, family. It's all about whatever you want, Rick, and if I want to get what I want, I have to figure out what you'll let me keep."

Rick fixed Morty silently for an uncomfortable 3 seconds before sipping from the can and landing carelessly on the hotel room's couch, "Queen to f7, Morty? Really? A guilt trip? That's your opening?"

"Queen f7 would be move four, Rick, but no. I don't expect it to work. Not yet. Maybe someday. It works on everyone else. Caring about what other people want factors in to some people's decision process."

"All the same, you trotted it out. So I'll bite. What do you want Morty? You stopped me before I started to think about what horrible thing I would do, before I could figure out why I'm going to fuck your world sideways. That's my usual process. So I admit you have me at a disadvantage Surrendering early. I'll have to remember that one."

Morty grimaced in acknowledgement of the compliment, "I told you we're outgrowing this little hotel and you accepted it immediately and started to leave. I didn't have a better plan or a better story and if I waited for a better plan, you'd figure the problem out on your own and I'd lose more than 3 family members."

Rick squinted hard at Morty, "So you've got safehouses. Maybe four or five of them."

Morty opened the refrigerator and reached for the pitcher of sweet tea Aunt Celeste has made, "Yeah. And you'll find them all. And you'll murder everyone unless I figure out a way to talk you down from your ledge."

"Someone on a ledge is out of options, Morty," Rick sipped, "This game only just began. You think I'm on the ropes?"

"No, Rick. I know you're not. I'm not good at this. I can't manage six levels of contrivance and I won't try without four months to plan and I had one week to come up with what I've got. Negotiating a peace between you and the parasites and falling on your mercy and any possible affection or whatever passes for it for me, Summer, and whatever piece of the parasites you might actually like."

Rick scowled, "I like every part of the parasites, Morty! That's the whole fucking point! They're lovable and kind. Generous and fun. They're the best kind of entities to have around!"

Rick went to the window to watch Aunt Celeste, Jerry, and Spike playing Marco Polo, kneeling in the kiddie pool, "That's the trap and the one you fail to see, apparently. People are awful. We have our own needs and wants and when in conflict with others we look to press our advantage or we descend into despondent agony, surrendering ourselves for the sake of others in a nihilistic, death wish cascade of kindness that leaves us spent and others around us in misery despite sacrifice."

Rick turned on his heels in a slow circle, to face Morty again, "Inevitably we'll fall into a trap of preferring creatures who serve our every desire and ask nothing of us. I always thought it would be a Google algorithm that steered us through lives of vacious pleasure akin to a constant heroin high, culminating in living our lives in bliss with magnificent Alphabot companions. Kind of like Gwendolyn, only charming, polite, thoughtful, insightful, and up for whatever sounds good to us. Always in the mood when we are, endlessly patient with our whipsaw emotional states."

Morty looked down at his iced sweet tea. He wasn't thirsty.

"Parasites are the end of humanity, Morty. You talked me in to letting you live out your life enjoying a perfect family. What more did you want? Do you need me to not recognize the problem? To participate in the extermination of our species? It's not enough to see my own germline snuff itself out, I have to make sure no one survives? Why, Morty? What's the point?"

Morty looked up from the glass, "What are you talking about, Rick? How are you saving humanity?"

"Every parasite has a fuse lit from the day it's born, Morty. I just made you the red wire."