His father had cursed him. Sheldon Addison was to be the legitimate, next-in-line Galactic Emperor and he would have ruled over the almost three thousand planets as a benevolent dictator, had his father not saddled him (and the rest of the galaxy) with the curse. Democracy. His bleeding-heart, dim-witted father had, before he died, allowed the Empire to slip into the chaos that was democracy. And in the process, Sheldon's father had cost him his only chance at imperial glory. Although Sheldon still held the title of Emperor, it was a title in name only, a relic of past glories. Except... an idea was forming and the report of a habitable planet at the end the spiral arm, combined with the life-span shortening technique... made that idea... well, it was intriguing. A tale of conspiracy, of alliances and betrayals, set among the stars and the new planet, Sheldon. This is the story of our ancestors, leaders from the known planets, kidnapped and forced to live the Emperor's fantasy. Of lifetimes genetically reduced by a factor of ten, watched, studied and controlled by those not afflicted. Those who still have the Long Lives. A planet far removed from the galactic core, away from the bounds and protective constraints of law, free to be immersed wholly in the Emperor's madness. The final answer to what evil and excess becomes when left alone. When appetites and passions are allowed free rein, when psychosis is encouraged to percolate, bubble and develop into... an art form. Where the inhabitants of Sheldon, later to be named Earth, toil endlessly to create society in the emperor's image, never realizing they've become an experiment, an aberration, a disease nurtured to be unleashed on an unsuspecting galaxy.