Please hold while we connect you to your party," the automated voice says.
What plays next is something the politest person in the world would call "music-adjacent." But, the jazzy muzak does not make your palms as clammy as the thought of what your mother will say to you. Yes, a ghost father might scare some people. But your mother knows ways of getting under your skin, sometimes literally. There was that one time she installed a tracker in your thigh when you were seventeen because you "kept coming in too late at night."
"Too late" was two minutes past ten o' clock.
The two of you got along so poorly, her going to prison was a bit of a reprieve. You would hate to admit it, though she probably already knows what you're thinking, so you might as well.
Why did she go to prison anyway?
The phone makes a clicking sound. Mom's familiar voice, silky smooth and nasal, rings in your ears. There is a strange, 1930s comedienne quality to it. You have the same voice, only a tad higher in pitch. You wish you had Dad's powerful and commanding voice, but it seems your parents even screwed you up genetically.
"Hello, Samir Tousi," she says. You can hear the gum in her mouth over the phone. Can one get gum in prison? You wouldn't know. You have never been in prison, though you have been in jail a few times.
"Mother," you say.
"Pretty formal today, aren't we?" Mom says. "You know, you were nicer to your dead father."
One of your henchmen, Dead Horse—who is both living and a human—peers into your office through the cracked door. He could potentially help you get out of this phone conversation. One of the first things you did when you hired your henchmen was train an imitator to sound exactly like you in case you needed to trick a costumed hero.
Dead Horse is not that henchman, but he can get him.
"We need to talk about the mission your 'father' gave you," Mom says.
Dead Horse nods and goes to leave. Unfortunately, you forgot your mother is omniscient, and thus knows everything, including the exact trick you're trying to pull.
"I know the exact trick you're trying to pull," she says. "Trust me, it wouldn't have worked."
"Never mind, Dead Horse," you say.
"Okay," Dead Horse says. Then, he walks away.
Nice Going, Dead Horse
"You know, that Dr. Glass Frog is the top villain in the world for a reason," Mom says. "He always talks to his mother."
"He was a frog turned human," you say. "He keeps his mother in a jar on his desk!"
"Well, I'll not give you my advice, if you'll scorn it so," she says.
"No, no, I want to hear it," you say with a heavy sigh. "What is it?"
"That ghost was not your father," Mom says. "But then, you already know that, don't you?"
"What kind of jerk would masquerade as my dad?" you say. "If they wanted one of my role models, why didn't they just appear to me as Glenn Danzig?"
"I know who it really is, but I cannot tell you yet," Mom says.
"Why not?" you say.
"Because I am still trying to make sense of it myself."
Is She Not Omniscient?
"So, what can you tell me?" you say.
"I can tell you this: you will build the most malevolent and cruel doomsday weapon the world has ever seen," Mom says.
"Why?" you say. "Wouldn't a doomsday weapon be antithetical to taking over the world?"
"Only if you use it," she says. "Remember, even Hannibal needed elephants to cross the Alps."
"But what would I do with it?" you say.
"You will go to the United Nations building in City Township Villa," she says. "You will take the building hostage, and the countries of the world will surrender to you."
"I don't think it works that way," you say.
"Are you arguing with predestination?" Mom says.
The idea that you are merely a cosmic puppet dangling on strings only your mother can see is disconcerting to you. You quickly banish the thought from your mind, before you start to get really down.
What doomsday weapon should you create?
"Back in my day," Mom says, "we didn't need super special abilities to pull off our schemes."
Isn't she using her special abilities to help you take over the world right now? What is her deal?
"What, is it a bad idea?" you say.
"No, no," Mom says. "It's not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all."
"I could always do something else," you say.
"It's fine, it will be fine for now," Mom says.
She Always Does This
"I hope you have the best of luck in taking over the world," Mom says. "Even if you are going with, well, one of your lesser options."
There is something she is not telling you. She does literally know everything, so there has to be some hiccup or bump in the road coming in the future. But if she doesn't tell you, perhaps she has some strange purpose behind it. Maybe if you meet every single event as a surprise, you will be able to conquer the world. Even so, you cannot help but wonder if she has some ulterior motive behind all of her advice.
"You know, it would be a lot of fun to see you conquer the world in person," Mom says. "It's hard to keep track of everything you do in this prison cell."
You don't need to be omniscient to understand she wants you to break her out of prison. You can't expend any of your resources to break her out now, not with world domination on the line. But there is always the chance that you could break her out of prison later.
"Your henchmen are like bicycle pedals on a car," Mom says. "Or pockets on an umbrella."
"I get it, I get it," you say. Sure, your henchmen could always use improvement, but she doesn't have to be so rude about it. You will have to find a different way to break her out of jail. If you do so at all.
See Ya