"I want to know; how much training is necessary to join the ranks of your governmental service?"
"About a week will suffice. You will then be given an overseer's position. Perhaps you might enjoy being overseer in the sector that includes Sol."
Wan Nes Stan shook his head. "A prophet is not without honor save in his own country," he said.
He considered the idea of overseer's position and scorned it. He'd continue to use the mind machine.
They were still rising.
He could and would rise too. He would rise above them, he could and would become the high governor of all the great widespread race of Galactics. With intelligence above them, he could and would direct them wisely and well, and though none would live to carry his name onward, the name of Wan Nes Stan would go ringing down the halls of time.
But Wan Nes Stan cared little for the halls of time, really. He wanted a present, not a future. That his name might appear as a beacon to uncounted numbers of yet unborn Galactics was attractive; his basic purpose was still to enjoy the power and the glory that would be his.
He wanted the sensuous thrill of having the power that would place him among those whose names still ring though eons have passed.
He began to plan craftily.