by Paul Anlee
“Besides,” Mary added, “emulating someone’s face would be child’s play for Alum. This could be another one of His tricks.”
“There’s no doubt Darak has God-like capabilities,” Darya replied.
“Yeah, I’d say moving entire asteroids across galaxies in the blink of an eye qualifies as a miracle,” Mary added.
“But he also has limits,” Timothy reminded them. “For instance, he couldn’t move the Eater without using the Deplosion Array units.”
“We can only dream of such limits,” Darya said. She turned away from the tree and strolled back uphill, all the way up to the crest.
The other two followed her path. Standing together at the crest, they took a moment to appreciate the warm, peaceful summer landscape, the softly undulating hills, and the single, identical tree rising proudly from each mound.
Darya drank in the view and relaxed.
“I’d love to understand the technology that allowed him to shift something as large as a solar system.”
“He did offer to show you,” Mary said after a while.
“Right,” Darya scoffed. “All I have to do is open my mind so he can ‘complete’ me, let him ‘fix’ my damaged concepta and persona. Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” She glared at the horizon.
Mary reached down and plucked a delicate little wildflower. She twirled it in contemplation.
“If you do, he might grant you access to this Reality Assertion Field. Maybe you could become a God, too.”
Darya’s hands tightened into fists; she pressed them against her hips.
“I’ve had quite enough of Gods. I do not care to be one.”
Mary squinted into the distance, seeking inspiration in the repetitive landscape.
“I think we all feel the same, Darya. You’re not alone in that. But if we’re going to defeat Alum, we’ll need to match His powers. Ever since we attacked the Deplosion Array, He’s been more alert. More wary. He’s hitting back harder, and He’s giving His security teams more latitude to use deadly force.
“We caught Him off guard last time. Next time, it won’t be so easy. He’s got the entire Deplosion Array guarded by sensor clouds and Angels. If we’re going to remove more than five percent of the array, we’ll have to step up our game.”
Darya willed her fingers to unclench and relax.
“I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m just frustrated. We’ve been at this for how many millions of years, now? We’ve always had plenty of time to pull back, reassess, and regroup. But we’ve been exposed, and we’re running out of time.”
She pulled her sword from its scabbard and tested the edge with her thumb.
“You know, I used to be so sure we could fix things—eventually—and that everything would turn out okay. Right now, that seems impossible.”
Mary rested her hand on Darya’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you but, Darya, this is not the time to give up or to lose sight of our goals. There’s too much at stake. You were right, what you were saying earlier, we need to figure out if Darak really is on our side in this conflict. If he is, we might stand a chance.
“What if we set an intermediate goal, something to test him?”
Darya slid her sword back into its sheath and gave a decisive nod.
“Like, help us defeat some Angels and take control of another piece of the array?”
“For instance. And he could show us how to shift like Angels,” Mary added. “And outfit us with superior tech and weapons. The battle could be ours, Darya.”
“Maybe,” Darya replied. “But if the monk is to be believed, Alum readily sacrificed a whole Wing of Angels and billions upon billions of humans in an attempt to defeat Darak. If this man presenting himself as Darak is actually Alum, or if he’s even allied with Alum, what’s to say he wouldn’t grant our requests and stage a fake victory for the Living God’s amusement?”
Mary smirked. “Ah, so we’re giving the monk’s stories credibility now, are we?”
Instead of answering, Darya looked to the sky as if pleading with God, a God she didn’t believe in. “It’s an impossible situation.”
“Still,” Timothy jumped in, “wouldn’t every little victory, every action that slows Alum down, be good for us?”
“And for the universe?” Mary added.
Darya grimaced. She hated their reasoning but had to agree.
“You’re right. If we’re going to move forward, I need to trust Darak at least that much,” she conceded.
“And he needs to trust us,” Mary said.
“True. It’s a small ask: give us technology to match the Angels’ fighting power so we can take control of the array.”
“We’ll need a larger army,” Mary noted.
“Okay, so we make that Darak’s first task, and I know the perfect source. When Trillian made his incursion into the Alternus virtual inworld, he threw it offline across hundreds of asteroid stations. Millions of Cybrids got trapped in storage while their trueself bodies were docked in the recharging bays. We’ll get Darak to move some of those asteroids here so we can get our people out, and into new bodies if they need that, and then he can help us make tech modifications for battle. If he does that, we’ll be freeing millions of innocents, we can grow our army, and we’ll see whether Darak’s willing to stand with us or not.”
The three Partials stared at each other, working out the implications of their decision.
“So...we’re really going to take on Alum directly,” Mary said, more to hear the words aloud than to verify. “Alum. The Living God.”
Timothy looked from Darya to Mary, and back.
“War against God?” he asked. “Are we insane?”
Darya’s eyes shone with fierce determination.
“Yes, war against Alum. And, yes, quite possibly well shy of sane.”
3
“God is coming to visit today! God is coming today!”
Mirly twittered happily as she skipped along the path that wound beside the stream. Her stubby little tail flicked and wagged with excitement.
She didn’t have to skip or run or walk to see God. She could have just thought briefly about where she wanted to greet Him and, like magic, she would be there.
But it’s so wonderful to skip down a path by a glittering stream—she thought.
She’d only recently emerged from her latest veg turn in the soil, the cycle in which she firmly planted her roots, thought marvelous, deep thoughts, and planned her next works. She enjoyed those quiet, meditative times when her thoughts slowed, her animal demands to always keep moving and doing receded, and she could devote herself to her dreams of creating music, painting, writing poetry, or designing mandalas of colored sand.
All for the glory of Alum!
And when her leaves fell and her roots retracted from the loving cradle of the ground, when her bark softened and her skin grew supple again, when she could feel the tingle of energetic muscles yearning to move, Mirly loved that time just as much.
She’d been in her present mobile anima state for only three weeks and was feeling refreshed with the energy of youth. She’d already composed one piece for the variable flute, a song with 19- and 31-note chromatic scales, bringing to life the notes and lyrics she’d dreamed of in her veg phase.
An hour ago, she’d added the finishing flourishes to her newest design, a fanciful asymmetric mandala. She’d danced around it and accompanied herself on her favorite instrument. This was her best work to date.
I’m sure Alum will love it! She knew He’d make time to hear and to watch. He always did. God had time for all of His children in Heaven. And He loved all of their creations. Why wouldn’t He? After all, Alum was the ultimate Creator, the one who’d made Heaven for all life to enjoy for eternity. Of course He loved His Creation and all who lived there.
Mirly paused to admire the facing bank of the burbling stream and the tree-people who glowed with the gentle shine of excess light shed from their bark.
She whispered a passing hello to her friends who’d picked this time and place to sink their roots for quiet meditation. They rustled their leaves in pleasure at her exuberant frolicking and returned to their contemplations.
The people presently living their smaller animal cycles all danced and sang along with her, too, although they were barely sapient and had only rudimentary words at their disposal.
Fun! Leap! Joy!—arose from their simple, happy minds as she passed by them at play among the flowers and grasses.
When they grew tired of playing and it became time for them to move to the next stage they, too, would take root and enter another period of physical and mental growth.
It was always like this in Heaven: plant-to-animal-to-plant-to-animal, all life weaving together in an integrated web of development, and all of Alum’s creatures, anima and veg, thriving under His Light. All energy, nutrition, growth, and love came from that single source—Alum—in a never-ending flow. His Love powered the universe, and life everywhere sang His praise with its every fiber.
Mirly pranced on her four legs like an energetic fawn. She was still small, a young doe-centaur under a meter high. Her tiny fingers and dual opposable thumbs at the end of her delicate arms were perfect for forming complex notes on the variable flute and arranging the colorful grains of sand she used in her mandala designs.
She loved her life, and she loved the thought that one day, in about five or six more veg-anima cycles, she’d grow a little bigger and could take up opera, or painting, or maybe writing! There were so many ways to be creative, so many ways to honor the glories of God. An infinite number!
Today, she was off to meet Alum and a dozen or so friends presently in their anima phase at a favorite spot along the road that led to the lake.
The trail meandered down to the stream and Mirly danced across the stepping stones that poked above the surface of the water. The little insects, the fish, the golden bacteria, and the mosses, all were part of the veg-anima cycles that characterized life in Heaven, and she waved a cheery, all-encompassing hello to them from the middle of the stream.
On the other side, the path widened and led into a densely forested area toward a small body of water some five minutes away by fast trot. Tall, narrow stones rose out of the ground on each side of the path. The natural pockets and indentations in the rocks cradled delicate orchids that bobbed greetings as she passed by.
Mirly recalled fondly the cycles of her youth that she’d spent cradled in a stony pocket, drinking water that fell into the cup, absorbing nutrients from the rock, and filling herself with Alum’s Light. She cherished her orchid phases, but no more than others cherished their own flowering phases.
Not everyone goes through orchid phases—she reminded herself. But I’m sure they’re all equally wonderful.
She didn’t regret never spending time as a marigold. She’d enjoyed her orchid time, and it was perfect to her. How could it be otherwise in Heaven?
Mirly approached the meeting place with growing excitement. Poppi and Tristal were already there, chatting with some of the local veg-life and an unfamiliar young anima-person enjoying its insectoid phase.
Mirly trilled a happy greeting to the small gathering.
“Hey, everyone!”
Poppi flew from her resting spot on one of the rocky pillars and landed on Mirly’s head.
“Hi, Mirly! How is the mandala? I bet it’s perfect. Alum will love it.”
Mirly laughed.
“The love of our Lord shines brightly on all creations. What have you two brought today?”
Tristal, a big bear in his present anima incarnation, lumbered over to greet them.
“A short musical composition for divergent voices,” he answered in a low rumble. “You should hear Poppi’s harmonies; they are magnificent.”
Poppi fluttered around Mirly’s head in delight.
“But only because Tristal provides such a solid, rhythmic base.”
“I can sing, too,” chirped a little bug from its perch on a nearby rock.
The bear’s muzzle lowered and gave the silver-winged cricket a friendly nudge forward.
“Mirly, this is our young friend, Xitina,” he said.
The cricket rubbed its legs together, emitting a complex series of high-pitched runs that verged on the ultrasonic.
“See? I can sing like Poppi,” it said.
Mirly bent over to get a better look.
“Oh, how lovely,” she exclaimed.
Poppi swept down and landed on the rock beside Xitina.
“We’ve been practicing,” she said. “Xitina takes the melody into such a beautiful range.”
“I am so looking forward to hearing you,” Mirly replied. “I think Alum would love it if you performed your song as a greeting on His arrival.”
They chatted amongst themselves while their other friends arrived. Soon the visitors numbered in the hundreds, counting the local veg-people and the tiny creatures who happened by. The energy of expectation was palpable, drawing others to the road who had not yet heard about Alum’s impending visit.
Nobody minded if they hadn’t received an invitation directly. Alum’s Light shone equally in and upon all. In an eternity of lifetimes, no one would be ignored or shunned. Alum had more than ample time for all of His children.
A brilliant flash of light drew everyone’s attention toward the water.
Alum’s here!
The Living God walked out from a light-filled portal hovering over the water.
As he drew closer, Poppi, Tristal, and Xitina broke into song to welcome Alum to this part of Heaven. Their harmonies were as beautiful as anything Mirly had imagined.
Alum smiled in deep gratitude and joy as He greeted every single one of His children with a touch or a hug, and then sat down on a small rock beside the road and played with a pair of lizard-children as He listened to the final few minutes of the composition.
When the music finished, He stood and beamed at the three performers. The light of His blessing radiated from His eyes and washed over them.
“Wonderful, my children,” He said. “Your melody is as pleasing to the ear as water trickling across stones in a stream.”
Poppi, Tristal, and Xitina glowed with joy at being compared to the music of Alum’s own creation.
“Thank you for that delightful greeting. It is wonderful to be among you again.”
“Your radiance is with us always, Lord,” Mirly replied.
Alum smiled down at the young doe-centaur.
“Yes, my child. You are right. I am always with you, but it is especially pleasing to turn My attention to this particular small part of perfection again. I understand you’ve been working on a new piece, Mirly.”
Mirly spun in circles, and her tail wagged fiercely.
“Yes, I have! I have! The best view is from the top of the large boulder that towers over the middle of the clearing. We should all go there.”
She didn’t have to specify where “there” was. Alum knew all and saw all.
He nodded and the entire group—minus the vegs who would have to wait for their next anima stage—shifted to observe Mirly’s latest work.
From the vantage point eight meters above the clearing in the forest, the group admired the tree-people and the open meadow below.
“Oh, Mirly,” Poppi cried, staring down on the intricate mandala, “this is exquisite!”
Mirly had poured colored sand in a mesmerizing design that covered almost the entire clearing. A circle of swirling, wispy whites and alluring shades of blue, green, and brown delighted the grateful onlookers. Two enormous islands of intermingling greens and browns gave weight and substance to both sides of the snow-white center, while scattered cottony patches and speckles of azure lent a sense of airiness. The ragged edges of the great masses evolved into delicate fractal patterns that bled into the dominant blue. The overall effect was stunning.
A human cartographer of the twentieth century would have recogniz
ed the image as Earth, viewed from high above the North Pole, albeit slightly stylized and missing its signature veil of cloud cover.
Black dots, here and there, marked where the major cities of various nations had once stood, a very, very long time ago.
A solid circle of dove-gray sand perfectly covered the area that the once sprawling metropolitan area of Vancouver, British Columbia, in the country of Pacifica, would have occupied.
Without realizing it, Mirly had quite accurately represented the precise location and size the Eater had reached on the second day after breaching its confinement field.
Mirly looked up at her God, excited to receive His Light and Grace.
Strangely, He was no longer smiling.
She couldn’t say exactly what that expression on His face meant. She’d never seen a look quite like that.
“Don’t you love it, Alum?” she asked, knowing He always replied to such questions with an immediate and enthusiastic, “Yes.”
This time, He did not.
Mirly became acutely aware of the songs of the burbling stream and the wind passing over the rocks and through the branches.
When Alum did speak, His voice was odd. Not gentle. Not loving. Not gushing with approval.
“Mirly, where did the inspiration for this piece come from?”
Mirly stepped back, sensing something…foreboding in the question.
She recognized the concept of “threat” only on an instinctual level. She’d never known a real threat of any kind. Alum had designed Heaven so His children would never have to face danger. On a conscious level, she felt only confusion.
“It.... It just came to me, Lord,” she stammered. “As always.”
Who knows where inspiration comes from, if not from God?—she mused, surprising herself with such a thought.
She had no words or concepts that would suggest an idea could have an origin other than God’s glory. One could be inspired by friends or by creation itself but all of these things came from God. He was the ultimate source of everything. Anything else was inconceivable.
Alum glared at the young doe for a moment, though Mirly wouldn’t have known what to call His expression. She saw the look, felt the absence of approval, and shrunk into herself. She experienced it as cold, an absence of normal. Where was the warm glow of Alum’s eternal love?