"Reality is what I say it is. Do you hear me?" The project boss looked down the bump slits on his face toward the subordinate. "Do you?"
"It's hard to define reality," A. argued. "There is no one reality. On that planet, like everyone on it, there are different versions of it."
"You know that, and I know that, and everyone else on board knows it, but," he swiveled around in his floor glider and fixed his amygdaline eyes somewhere past the subordinate's face. "But they don't know it. And it is best if they don't figure it out for several more generations."
"That's your story, boss. I think they are ready."
"Reality there is a group agreement they work with. It is best for them in their puny excuse for development. Anything else is more than the majority can handle. Now get back to work. There's a sample couple in the north quadrant who are asking uncomfortable questions. Deal with it."
"Deal with it, boss?"
"Shut them up. Or feed some confusing blather into their minds. Make it real enough to be almost believable."
"You mean set them up to fail?"
"I mean set them up with a nonsense version of the truth. We're not ready to be known."
"I don't see what purpose that serves."
"If you want something, you think about it. Or they do. What they don't understand is the corollary; if you don't want something, you think about how much you don't want it. The Universe makes no distinction. You get what you think about."
"I understand that, but, oh, I see. They'll think about us. It's preparatory. Sneaky, but it will work."
"That's why we do it."