by Garon Whited
Um, about my question…?
“Hmm? Oh.” I had to think about it. Given the options… “Well, Diogenes has already cloned some genetically-engineered horse-like creatures.”
I’ve seen them. Dangerous beasties, aren’t they?
“By design,” I agreed. “If Bronze can be reincarnated, we can get one of them to foal, I guess. Should I?”
No. Or… let me say, “not yet.” There’s… the reincarnation thing is tricky. There are some rules, but I’m working with them, not against them. My big problem is doing it right. There are techniques I haven’t grasped, yet. I’m still new to being a godlike entity. I’m the youngest member of the pantheon and likely to stay that way for a while. There’s a lot I need to learn, especially in matters where I dare not screw up.
“That’s fair. Should I hope to see her again?”
There’s always hope. You’re immortal, so we’ve got time. Don’t expect it this century, but hope wouldn’t be misplaced.
“Thanks. And I mean that. Thank you.”
Totally unnecessary, he replied. My own version of Bronze—the quasi-deific thing the followers of the Lord of Shadow always associate with us—would be upset with me if I didn’t try to help you. Besides… I know how you feel. I don’t like it.
“Duly noted. Is there anything else?”
Unless you want me to have a quick word with the Lady of Flame?
“Oh, that,” I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
And the sense of divine-ish presence was gone. I waited while my god ran an errand for me.
Was he right? Have I been depressed for a couple of decades and been too… what’s the word? Obtuse? Dense? Inattentive? Something. Too whatever to notice? Or is it less of a lack of perception and more a lack of ability? There are pieces of me that are missing. I can’t think through those places anymore, only around them. I can’t even feel them, because they’re outside my perception. That might be more accurate.
Bronze wouldn’t have let me go on like this without telling me, possibly by kicking me. Then again, if Bronze was alive, she wouldn’t have to. At least Mary ran out of patience and kicked me into motion, which says good things about her, I think.
But the idea that, someday, I might see Bronze again—okay, a flesh-and-blood version, rather than a fire-breathing statue, but Bronze, alive and kicking and running free… that was a thought worth holding on to. Always assuming, of course, she would give up paradise to go through the whole birth-life-death cycle thing.
She might.
Okay, good news, bad news.
“Hit me.”
Good news, Sparky would love to talk to you through Tianna or Amber. Bad news, she won’t speak to me about whatever it is. It’s a secret she’ll only trust to the “secure channel” between gods and avatars.
“Amber and Tianna aren’t avatars.”
Yes, but they’re descended from her avatar and share a direct connection to Sparky. That’s part of how they channel their miracles. She can direct powerful energies through them with impressive precision. Think of them as the only people with laser communication receivers. Everyone else is on the common radio channels. Signal interception becomes a serious issue.
“Oh. I guess I can see that.”
So if you want to find out what Sparky has to say—and, incidentally, if you want to tell me once you find out—you’ll have to talk to a priestess.
“Got it. Wait, can they speak to you privately?”
Well, you’re not technically an avatar, but we do share miles of common ground. I suspect it’s an avatar-descendant connection, but I don’t want to promise without testing it. You can talk to me like this because of our psychic link, or you can use the altar-phone. That thing is a miracle of the Lord of Shadow and counts as secure communications. I heard a psychic chuckle. I hear some people up here are positively green with envy.
“I’m not doing it again. I’m not sure I can do it for anyone but you.”
That’s why they’re envious. Sparky wants one, too, but I already explained why it wouldn’t work for you to do it. She’s trying to encourage more wizardry in her witches. Tianna keeps telling her it’s not as easy as she thinks. And, of course, the only person to ever do it isn’t likely to spend a year teaching her how.
I sighed and gently banged the back of my head against the stone wall. Sparky is a manipulative bitch and I don’t trust her. It’s like that line from The Godfather, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” It’s like sailing on the edge of a whirlpool, constantly in danger of being sucked into it. One false move and down you go. It’s another reason I don’t spend my time in Rethven. Karvalen. Here.
“Fine. I’ll go see what Sparky wants to say.”
I tried to sneak out, but my bodyguard detail spotted me. They don’t insist on being obtrusive—guys that large can be only so subtle—but they also persist in following me. It’s not worth it to order them to stop. Although, if I wore my armor and latched the faceplate closed, no one would know it was me. At least, I don’t think so. Everyone in armor is bigger than I am. I may try it, sometime. It’s not exactly incognito, but it’s better than having the Demon King roam the streets.
I decided to visit Amber. It was her turn, since my last visit was to T-n-T, Tianna and Tymara. Ordinarily, I’d ride Bronze…
Damn these discussions about feelings! I was coping just fine until busybodies started stirring them up. It’s like mud at the bottom of a clear pond. Leave it all alone and it settles. Splash around in it and it muddies everything. I’m a monster. I’m a male monster. Neither of these is supposed to be all touchy-feely. I am not a “hug it out” sort of person. I’m a “rip it out and cauterize it with fire” sort of person.
I grumbled inwardly about this as we trudged up to my gate room. Either no assassins were waiting for me or they didn’t like the odds. We made it to the upper gate, went through to the Temple of Shadow in Mochara, and trudged on to the Temple of Flame.
I may need to put dedicated gates in the Temples of Shadow, at least between Karvalen and Mochara. Add it to the list of things I ought to do and will never get around to. Gates in Apocalyptica are easy. Diogenes intercepts me, hands me the unenchanted object—gate-ring, tent, whatever—and gently insists. His learning algorithm is spot-on when it comes to getting me to work on stuff. But here, in Karvalen? I don’t spend enough time here.
Hmm. Maybe I don’t spend enough time here. If I hung around more often, would it encourage people to try to kill me? At least we’d know who was interested. Maybe a doppelganger of some sort? Someday, maybe?
Amber was in the middle of a ceremony, shining brightly even in the light from the dome’s oculus, so we waited in the back. People noticed us, but it’s hard not to notice three black-armored knights protecting the smaller guy. We did try not to interfere and mostly succeeded.
When Amber finished, people slowly dispersed from under the dome. She nodded at me from her fiery bed of coals and snuffed out. This startled me, but my knights gestured me toward the residence. Inside, Amber was already on her indoor fire.
Interesting. Can she do that between any two fires? Or is it strictly a between holy fires kind of thing? Or does one take more effort than another?
“Good afternoon,” she said, voice rushing and crackling. “Welcome. Please, come in and seat yourselves.”
“Guys, wait outside. I think this is going to be a private chat.” They nodded, saluted, and closed the door.
“Oh?” Amber asked.
“I don’t know, but I suspect. Tianna tells me Sparky wants to talk to me, but doesn’t want to talk to my celestial version.”
“I see. So, you’re here to speak to the Mother?”
“No, I’m here to visit with you. While I’m here, if she wants to interrupt, I’ll leave it to your discretion.”
“You do realize no one else in the world would dare refuse such a conversation? If one of the gods grants an audience,
one accepts.”
“If one of the gods wants anything of me, it’ll find out I don’t take demands very well. I haven’t had to kill one, yet, but I’ve given it some thought and have some ideas.”
“You trouble me, my father.”
“I don’t mean to. It’s not why I came. Hello! How are you? Any problems? Anything I can do for you?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Name it.”
“Tianna is attempting to teach Tymara some of the wizarding tricks. It is… not going well. I do not know if Tianna is a poor teacher or if Tymara has no interest—or no talent—but it frustrates Tianna. Could you, perhaps, spend some time with Tymara, teaching her?”
“And find out if Tymara needs a tutor—or if she should give it up?”
“Well… yes.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Assuming Tianna wants me to help, of course.”
“She may not want to trouble you. Your preference for being unbothered and uninvolved is well-known.”
“Only about religion and politics,” I corrected.
“We are Priestesses of the Flame, father.”
“Yes, daughter,” I agreed. “I always come when you call.”
“But we respect your wishes and only call when we feel it needful.”
“Hmm. I may have miscommunicated my intent.”
“Then Tymara will have a perfect opportunity to understand it more fully.”
“All right, all right. I know when I’m licked. I agree.”
“Good,” she chuckled. “Now, do you wish to receive the wisdom of the Mother?”
“No, but I’ll listen if she happens to want to talk,” I corrected. Amber nodded and closed her fiery eyes. Her flames changed color, brightening from red-and-orange to yellow-and-white. I didn’t feel an increase in heat, but the brightness was much greater.
“You are not an avatar,” cautioned the voice from Amber’s throat. “You may wish to address the gods with some respect.” Then she added, quickly, “It is not a threat. I merely offer it as advice.”
“Thank you, I think. So, I’m told this deity-to-avatar communication is secure—no eavesdropping or whatnot. What’s so important you couldn’t whisper in the Lord of Shadow’s ear?”
“What you so blithely think of as ‘whispering’ is an emanation on the energy plane. Anyone with sufficient interest and power can detect such a vibration.”
“That must be terrible. Come to think of it, it does answer some questions about the way the whole astral schoolyard seems to be up in everyone else’s business.”
“Yes. This is for your ears alone, for it concerns you greatly.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“As you will. The Lord of Light seeks you.”
“Nothing compares to the depths of your divine wisdom.”
“He is not a native of our plane,” Amber went on, in the voice of the so-called goddess. “He came to us already full-formed and powerful, assuming the mantle of the original Lord of Light. His strength grows as his worshippers in this and other realms add to it.”
“So I’ve heard. And…?”
“He is more dangerous than you can understand. He is not like us. There is a solidity to his existence I cannot fathom.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I do not know.”
“You know, it must really hurt to admit that,” I told her. “I don’t say so to be harsh or mean. I mean I’m impressed. I think it was difficult, possibly even painful, certainly humiliating on some level, and yet, you did it anyway. It’s not something I would have expected. It… I don’t mean this to sound rude, but I think it forces me to respect you more than I did. Thank you.”
“You may thank Me by being on your guard in this and in other worlds. His worship spreads in many places and his strength is formidable. If you have a way to challenge his strength in this world, I suggest you do it.”
“Ah, there it is. You’d like me to crush the Church of Light for you.”
“It is in your best interest,” she assured me. “And in the best interest of your daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, and your kingdom.”
“I’ll think about it, since you so blatantly want to manipulate me into it. Meanwhile, do you have a good way to target only worshippers of the Church of Light aged sixteen and older? I don’t want to eradicate a city for having a temple; children will be harmed.”
“Sacrifices must be made in war,” she assured me, exasperated.
“I’m not at war.”
“You will be!” she snapped, and the flames dimmed to the orange-red of my daughter.
Typical. Always wanting the last word.
“Well,” Amber said. “It sounds as though the Lord of Light actively dislikes you.”
“I agree,” I told her. “I wonder why she’s warning me. It’s not like she told me what he’s up to, and I already knew he had it in for me.”
“I do not know. Perhaps She has only suspicions? Or Her warning is to be on your guard in other worlds, for the Lord of Light has influence there beyond what you expect?”
“Could be. I’ll have to give it some thought. Maybe see what I can find. But that’s for later. Are you sure you don’t have anything I can do for you?”
“My only concerns are for Tymara and Tianna. And now for you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll head back to Karvalen, spend the afternoon with Tymara, and then go back to my hideout.”
“As you wish.”
So I did.
Tymara, if you’re interested, is modestly talented as a wizard. She simply prefers to play with the fire-powers of a priestess. When she realized she could animate the chess pieces, she started playing with other, less fire-resistant toys, I think, and temporarily animated them. One of her dolls, somewhat the worse for heat, followed her around on its own. I guess it’s like any exceptional talent. If you swim like a fish because that’s your talent, you join the swim team, not the football team.
I showed her several simple magical tricks and guided her in duplicating them—kind of like steadying a child who is learning to ride a bike. She enjoyed it, possibly because I was the one doing it. I suspect hiring a tutor will not go well for the tutor. She doesn’t find wizardry anywhere near as much fun as the flames. She loves to play with fire. Still, Tianna thinks a tutor is a good idea. We’ll see.
Apocalyptica, Wednesday, September 16th, Year 11
I barely made it out of the shift-booth before sunset started. I gritted my teeth and rode the slidewalk to the residential area while sweating like an ice cream sundae in a sauna.
“Diogenes?”
“Yes, Professor?” he answered, from the hovering drone.
“Maybe we do need a bathroom facility in silo one.”
“I did mention it when we were reviewing the plans for the refurbishing of the missile silo, Professor.”
“So you did, and I regret not listening to you.”
“Whirlpool, shower, toilet?”
“Just the basics. It’s for washing off semi-toxic gunk, not for lounging.”
“I will see to it.”
“Thank you.”
“Always a pleasure to fix your mistakes, Professor.”
“Are you sure you’re not evolving into Skynet?”
“Certain, Professor. Of course, if I were, that is exactly what I would say.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t point it out.”
“True.”
“Any word from Mary?” I asked, stepping off the slidewalk and opening the hatch into the residential silo. Sunset and sunrise are unpleasant, but they don’t drop me in my tracks. It’s like a high fever combined with a feeling of being completely covered in electrical insects. I can’t say I’m used to it, but by now it is familiar. I don’t want to do anything requiring real focus and concentration, but I can still walk and talk.
“Yes, Professor. She called in answer to your message. Mary has had a discussion with Salvatore via the local telephone
system. From her report and the profanity she used, I infer Salvatore is not what we would typically characterize as ‘reasonable’. She is presently investigating more of the Castiglione family in the Las Vegas area.”
“At least she’s all right.”
“Frustrated, but, to the best of my knowledge, unharmed.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“The main fusion plant should be on-line in eighty-two minutes.”
“Excellent. I’ll hang around for that.”
“I am also monitoring new radio traffic in orbit. The Lunar natives appear to be somewhat agitated about the fusion test plants, both the failed test and the ongoing, functional plant.
“As an aside, I would like to build another full-sized fusion plant to replace the test rig. The test rig produces fourteen megawatts. The micro-gate’s plasma flow should be able to provide considerably more power with adequate conversion facilities. Once I have data from the full-scale plant, I can extrapolate a maximum output reactor using the existing plasma tap.”
“Go for it,” I told him. “But, on the subject of the Lunar natives? What do they want? And are they likely to interfere with our eventual communications satellites?”
“I cannot evaluate their intentions regarding our not-yet-deployed communications satellites. Their communications traffic mostly concerns the uncontrolled fusion plasma event.”
“Seems a reasonable thing to worry about. Are they trying to get our attention? Or are they just talking amongst themselves?”
“There are no transmissions hailing us.”
“Fair enough. Let me know if they have anything to say.”
“Noted.”
“And keep a skywatch going. I’m not sure what kind of neighborhood we live in, yet.”
“Understood, Professor. Please note my skywatch capabilities are limited. Most of my existing radar and ladar systems are too limited in range. There has been no need of a space-ranged detection system until now.”
“I get it. Start on the skywatch and upgrade the priority on Foothold—I want an established base on that world so we can abandon everything here and simply start over. I don’t want to find out the Moon has nuclear capability—or even the capability to throw large rocks down our gravity well—by experiencing them.”