Degree of Murder

I am not an assassin. Not in the strictest sense of the word.

I have a gun in my hand, and I am waiting for someone. I am positioned at a window that overlooks the road, and I shall see him. The gun does not contain a bullet. It contains a phial and a tiny nail-like dart.

When I press the trigger, the phial will open, coating the dart with liquid. This liquid contains information. If the dart does not reach its target in under five seconds, the information will react with the air around it and elapse.

The parade will pass through this road. The Prime Minister will be standing up in his car, waving to the crowd. I will press the trigger, and half a second later, the Prime Minister will lurch backwards, clutching his neck. By the time his bodyguards arrive, the dart will have dissolved, and all that will be left will be a tiny swelling which will cover for the entry wound. They will believe he was bitten by an insect.

The information will be deployed in his blood in the form of living cells. It will reach his nervous system and make for his brain. The cells have additional information within them. When they replicate, they will put forth this secondary information. This will happen every few days, with more and more new information being released.

The Prime Minister will not know what is happening to him. In fact, he will not notice. The change will be slow enough for everyone around him to believe it is only a natural process. The Prime Minister will change his mind. But really, we will change his mind.

No, I am not an assassin. As long as you don’t think about it.