by Jared Ravens
"I am aware. I know which one pointed spears at me."
"Well... They are... humans.... They are to be independently sufficient. In all regards. Managed, of course, but able to keep their numbers up without another's interference."
I knew of sex, of course. I was the first Mother. I did not agree with it and stymied the act when I could. It was not my idea that it should be a primary way of procreation. Because everything I had made was a physical blanket, a veneer, over the structure that Goetz had developed, it had to exist. But it did not have to utilized.
"Goetz is mad," I said. "There's no way to control that. People will fuck instead of grow food. It will make them miserable.”
"Goetz wants them to be able to continue their life," Genesee replied. “In case there is an interruption in the existence of those above them."
I looked at the sorry people around me. I felt more sorry for the women. What would they have to put with now! I was about to protest but Genesee had more coming.
"And in that light.."he continued, " We should be a model of what their life should be like."
I looked sideways at the slug with no face.
"We?"
"Us, yes. I was created for that specific purpose."
"So... He could corral me. Under your weak, pale wing."
"I don't think that’s the idea."
"I do think it is. I know. This is the bullshit you and your friend Goetz decided to pour over me without my input. How lucky for you! What rules you get to create and leave me out of. You told me it is my world, except, except except... I see now. Well, let me make my rule... I will do as I please and you can explain it to Goetz in whatever way you wish. I want a house and I will build it and I will make woman as much or as little as I please and I will have the land and will do as I wish with it. It will not be mine just in name, but mine to control. So you go tell Goetz what is happening. And don't rush back. I won't be needing you."
I intended this to be my final sentence but Genesee has no shame. He continued.
"One thing... If you do intend to be combative, wouldn't it be more sensible to have the messenger close to you?"
I glanced back at him and sighed.
"Is this the form you picked?" I asked.
"It is temporary. I am deciding."
"Do it quickly. You're not coming near me again looking like that."
The Testament
It was some time before The Testament was published. Countless meetings about ethics, legalities and all manner of bullshit faded into long evenings of editing. There were discussions where whole sections were axed by scared executives followed by others where the sections were put back because the resulting book had become too dry.
The incidents in Far West drifted out of Bern’s consciousness, happily forgotten in the piles of work. He had completed manuscripts several times and readied them for the press when his bosses would get push the date back and order new edits. He was aware they were making excuses, and he didn’t blame them. He felt the same anxiety when he saw the finished book laying in front of him. If someone on The Hill decided The Testament was hearsay, there was a remote possibility that the board of directors could be facing death.
The city of Sigma was sweltering with heat and anxiety. The reports from the east that dribbled in made everyone uneasy: That Fairfax had defeated the soldiers in The Hill’s army, that he had killed Curson’s son, that he had taken the soldiers of The Hill as his own and was marching towards Sigma. These rumors had run through the city so many times that Bern didn’t take them seriously anymore. But then an order went out to all the publishing houses to rush copies of Genesee’s new book on the triumphs in the east.
It was more a collection of wordy articles that highlighted strategies that led to victories over Fairfax and the people of the east. Genesee seemed to think detail could replace storytelling and enforce confidence in the narrator’s truth. It had the opposite effect. Bern closed the book a quarter of the way through, a numb anxiety crawling over his limbs. Something really was happening in the east for Genesee to want to publish this garbage. And it made him question just how much of the Official History was true.
It felt like that publishing it in its entirety would be like throwing a burning lamp onto a straw house. So they cut it up into small volumes and inserted notes from scholars pointing out the inconsistencies and strange aspects in the new story. The hope was that those on The Hill would consider it fiction while those with an interest in conspiracies would slowly buy up the limited copies, making it an underground hit. This was a very specific and unlikely set of circumstances they are after. To further drive sales down, the opening volume of Testament of an Alternate History of Creation was called The Institution: Notes on the Genesis of All You Know. It did the trick: The small run did not come close to selling out.
It slid into the back of Bern’s mind. There were new issues. Curson's daughter, Fores, had recently been appointed Mechanical Engineer in Chief and set up shop on the north side of Sigma. Despite being a gifted tinkerer she was entirely failing in distributing the inventions that had been created including metal horses called skids, and cooling machines that some liked to called swifties and others called life savers. People sent letters to her and to the The Hill bemoaning the disastrous bureaucracy. Someone with no mind for management was now in charge of assembly and distribution in a major department. Flores pushed back and Genesee defended her for now, at least in public. When it got still hotter people changed tact and began to send complaints directly to Staley who controlled the weather from his tower on The Hill.
This was unheard of. If there was one manager that almost everyone respected it was Staley. Few questioned his judgement even if they disliked the weather, for he was seen as the best balancer of conditions of any of the managers. If he set the weather pattern to hot, there was a reason for it. So when he began to get a flood of complaints and a visit from Genesee, he was facing a series of circumstances that he was certainly not used to.
Staley lashed out at his critics. He published an op-ed in a journal loyal to The Hill. He used condescending tones to tell us that we common people didn't know what we were talking about, and the heat had to continue in order balance the drifts coming up from the ocean to set the conditions for a cooling trend. Drought was necessary; deal with it. He then deflected criticism, writing that Flores needed become a better bureaucrat or else stand above the city and fan it every afternoon while someone else did her job for her.
The he said the most critical thing: That if Genesee thought he had some ulterior motives for making things intensely hot then he had some questions for Genesee, like why no was told that his wife was effectively holding everyone hostage with the threat of evisceration.
This was a direct and public shot that almost never occurred in public. For those in the know, there was only one thing he was referring to. No one had ever spoken of The Void before we published the book. It wasn't in any traditional readings of creation. What Staley not only acknowledged the existence of Celia’s power to destroy, he saw it as a threat. We had always viewed the story in our book as being a mostly sympathetic take on Celia, who had to endure much in her fight with Goetz. Staley, and presumably many others, did not see her actions as benevolent or beneficial. She was not protecting them, but holding a knife to their throats. She wasn't giving Genesee discretion, she was pulling the strings behind the scenes. How much of this was true depended on your perception.
Immediately more people started talking about the book. It began to sell, and when copies ran short the board started talking about more runs. Then three board members were abruptly arrested.
Bern was frightened by this, and he and his wife escaped town for several days, waiting for it to blow over. He only returned after Divic told him they had entered into discussions with the authorities and it was safe. The remaining board members wouldn’t publish any more copies for the time being, perhaps ever. They had received no notice of support from Celia. B
ern felt foolish, assuming the book was a fraud. The board members were charged with slander against a superior being and slapped with fines and probation. Everyone wanted to get on with it, especially Bern, who was humiliated by his naivety. It served no one’s interest to keep the book in the spotlight. Or so they thought.
Late one evening he heard a knock at his door. It was so persistent that he thought it must be someone with an emergency. It was a distressed young woman who was so fitful that Bern thought she had a mental disorder. Her eyes locked on Bern as if he was her savior and she began to cry. He held her in a hug, worried she might attack him if he didn’t keep her arms at her side. As he looked over her shoulder for help several pages dropped across his back. She began to cry.
"Finally!" she called. "Finally!"
Bern gently pushed her back, trying to keep from suffocating in her musty smell. She slid down his legs until she lay on the stone street. People were looking disdainfully towards them. Bern bent down to calm her but such was her filth that he had to step back. He picked up the pages while I asked her to be quiet.
"I finally found you," she said through tears. She was physically exhausted and her eyes were drained.
"You were trying to give me these?" Bern asked, holding up the pages.
"She wouldn't leave me alone," she said, panting. "She was in my head."
Bern needed to get her inside and off the street. He offered his hand but she seemed startled by the movement. She came alive again and stood up, backing away from him and continuing to wail, this time unsure of what to do. She twirled and looked at the walls of the brick buildings around, circling her until she fell again, her skirt pooling around her.
"Come inside," Bern offered. "You can lay down."
"I can rest?" she asked, but it appeared to be a question to herself, because she was staring at something in her hand. Just as Bern saw the glimmer of the knife she plunged it into her throat. Bern was frozen, watching the disturbed woman writhe in motions like a marionette before falling to the ground, finally still.
Papers spread among around her body. Bern heard a scream from behind him. His wife, Shayne, appeared at the door, her face a reflection of my own stunned reaction. Slowly, sound came to my ears and the yells of people on the street rose up. Bern had just one thought, a clear one. He picked up every page he could find and shoved them into my wife's hands. He told her to run inside and hide them.
He tended to the woman as he called for security. She smelled like mildew and dirt and her appearance was no better than the smell. She was clearly dead, and by the time security showed up a short time later they were chanting to Waring, caretaker of the afterlife, to guide her. Bern kept his eye on the window of my home while he was questioned, hoping Shayne had hidden the papers well. He answered nervously, telling them he didn’t didn’t know why she had chosen to kill herself in front of him.
Shayne waited until late in the evening to ask him if they were in trouble. They were at the table in front of a meal neither of them could eat. It felt like there could be someone watching them. Only now did that feeling seem the least bit absurd.
"We didn’t do anything wrong," he said with some confidence.
“Is that how they will see it?” She slouched in her chair, her arms at her side and looked up from an untouched plate of food. "I looked at those pages she gave you."
"I haven't had a chance to see them,” he replied, as if he didn’t know what could be on them.
"I want to burn them."
Bern looked up at her. Her eyes were wide open with worry. "If you think that's prudent."
"I would but it wouldn't matter. Whomever sent those to you will just send them again. And they'll terrorize some other pour soul."
"I didn't chose this task,” he said. "When they want to mess with someone, they just do it. It's not like I get anything out of this."
"That's not comforting," she sighed. "We're in danger."
"You said you thought it was a good idea to publish the last book. Do you still think that?"
"Evidence since then points to no. Of course, what input do we have? Like you said, they'll play with us if they want to."
I nodded. "With all this Fairfax drama going on, I think we got away with it. He's been seen in the east again. They're busy with all that nonsense."
"Well, if your plan is counting on Fairfax to keep making noise then it isn't very sound. He’s a loose canon, and he may die any minute.”
"There's no plan, dear," I replied. "I just want to get through this.”
She looked up at him, a stern, serious glance.
“You really need to see what she wrote before you make any decision.”
Staley
Adapted From Celia’s Testament of an Alternate History of Creation
As Received by Anonymous
Times were different at that time. We had only begun building the society you now know. Committees were formed, decisions were made. The naming committee debated until the days and nights faded into each other, eventually arriving at the name Holm for the land we all precieved.
I was not on that committee. Make what you will of that uninspired choice of name.
The Hill was smaller. It consisted only of a small house which I had personally designed. Spaulding, who was not graced with competent construction abilities, built it incorrectly numerous times. I had have him tear it down and rebuild over and over again. He complained. I did not listen. Genesee would offer suggestions and I would listen, and then ignore them. None of them knew how to build a home properly.
During one of these rebuilds a torrential storm came and washed away much of the work. I was irate, as would be expected, but it frustrated everyone. The weather had been regulated by Goetz, who had delegated it a automated system of natural forces when it became to taxing for his distracted consciousness. The system worked poorly now that there were projects that needed protection from elements. We needed someone to go to for requests that weather events be delayed or moved to accommodate our schedules, while balancing the needs of the land.
Genesee held meetings with Goetz and convinced him to give up the reigns to someone who had some interest in the subject. The tricky part was how to create this being. Many of the creations Goetz had at that time had not gone well. One example is Lusor, a woman that was to bring artist inspiration to people. Her emotions were to be boisterous, a necessary component of an artist, but she was far too off the scale. She was wild and reckless from the moment she appeared. It was difficult to be with, and her loneliness drove her into even more emotional states. Her mental state reflected itself in her body, which grew additional limbs as an expression of her inner turmoil. She came to be regarded as a monster and no person would go near her. She drown herself in the river Mux, a stream that many still go to drink from to get inspiration.
Lusor’s fate showed me that Goetz was losing focus on this world. Either by general disinterest or an increasing inability to concentrate on physical needs of the world, he was not to be trusted to create beings any long. Goetz and Genesee did not want me to create the being, a sign of their insecurity, so I advocated that the weather man be created by more natural means. I nominated Harper to father him and they took it from there.
Their plan was to have Harper spill his seed into the sea, as this was believed to create the best alchemic conditions for a being that could receive Goetz’s breath of consciousness. They later talked Harper into pulling a hawk from the air and having sex with it underwater, thus combining air and water. I cannot be certain this was the way it happened as I had no interest in witnessing the event.
He was called Staley. Once conceived, he washed up on shore into Harper’s arms. He was presented to the populous as the savior who would command the atmosphere.
The excitement was short lived. Staley was naturally grumpy, probably a result from having a hawk as a mother, and was angry about having to sleep on the ground in open air while we found him housing. To vent his anger, he made horrend
ous storms come down upon us. This slowed everything down considerably, including any work on his home.
I told Gensee to take him back to the ocean where he came from. Genesee responded by looking confused. In the meantime he had dispatched Curson to help build the city of Sigma at the base of Mount Sigma. It was Genesee's idea to name the city of Sigma after the mountain, which was also our sleeping grandfather Sigma. This was asinine since people would get all three confused but I deferred to him because there was not enough time to deal with his every idiotic idea he had.
In the meantime, my home had been coming along nicely When at last I had the porch I envisioned, I dreamed I would sit on it and look down at the lights of Sigma at night. The city glowed in the darkness against a black space of nothing, reminding me of everything that needed to be done. My vision of the world had been altered by those around me but it could still be saved. I need people around me to carry out the work.
I created handmaidens, the most wondrous women made from the finest sands I could find, and set them to task. They assisted me in the management of what was to come. I created a blueprint, so to speak, of how I thought things should work. I was willing to work within the management structure that had been decided on. I requested a meeting with Genesee.
He listened and promised to take my ideas to Goetz. I held my tongue and played along. I thought it would be a reasonable process, with my ideas being adapted. It became a nightmare. It was meeting after meeting. I had to communicate with Goetz through Genesee only to find out after having my best plans were being dismissed for petty reasons. I discovered that Genesee could negotiate with us but had has no backbone when it comes to Goetz.
Genesee had been switching forms constantly, going from average looking male to handsome, from tall to less tall. I thought he was trying to impress me but I was reading him wrong; he was trying to please Goetz and the men of the world, not me. It's why Genesee settled on the bespecled and balding man he is today; it offends no one nor pleases anyone. He wears glasses he does not need and struts about in a body with characteristics he has no personal feelings about. His look is as ill fitting as the suit he wears.