Ariston nodded a final time, smiling. “Yes, let’s.”
All I Survey
by Jason Ross Inczauskis
“I’m ruler,” said Yertle, “of all that I see. But I don’t see enough. That’s the trouble with me.”
- Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories by Dr. Seuss
Regis Marko is a great hero. Gifted with the Scepter of Jove, Marko has taken it upon himself to better the lives of every citizen on the arid frontier planet of Enyo. At great personal sacrifice, Marko has set the small planet on the sure path to becoming one of the greatest intergalactic powers. Already, the beloved ruler has seen to the suffering of the people, ensuring that there is plentiful food and water for all. The hospitals and libraries under Marko’s rule have been well funded, with valuable information and technology gathered from all the corners of the universe to preserve and enrich the lives of the common citizen …
Blah, blah, blah .… If you look at any accounts from Enyo written in the eleven year period between the third year of the 839th Olympiad and the second year of the 842nd, that’s the sort of crap that you’re going to see. And it’s all bullshit. Regis Marko was a psychotic monster. A king, yes, but definitely no friend of the people. I should know. I’m the one who killed that fucking bastard.
It all started on the seventeenth day of Hekatombaion, in the first year of the 838th Olympiad. That infamous day was the twelfth birthday of Regis Marko -– the day that he received his Gifting. That is the day that Regis Marko, a young boy on the verge of manhood, learned that he was a Jovian, receiving some unknown vision from mighty Jupiter Himself. I say ‘unknown’ because we can’t know what Marko saw during his Gifting. It is an intensely personal experience, and the details are known only to the Gods and the person who experiences it. We have only the words of Marko himself. He claims that Jupiter told him that he would become the greatest ruler mankind had ever seen.
Clearly, Marko was lying. There is no way that Jupiter would make such a mistake.
But then, I lied about my Gifting, too.
***
The twelfth birthday is always a special one. That is the day that a young boy or girl is brought to the Pandora Device for their Gifting. I was nervous, as I assume all twelve year olds are when their time comes. There was a lot of pressure, but as a child, I had no control over what would happen. That was left in the hands of the Gods alone. My parents couldn't stop from being hopeful, though. My father hoped that I would receive the Sword of Mars, and become a Martian soldier like him. I didn’t want that. Despite my father’s vocation, I had always been a lover of peace. I didn’t want a Gift that would force me to fight. My mother hoped that I would become a Vestian like her, so that I could try to make Enyo a more livable place. That would have been alright by me, though it wasn’t what I hoped for. I wanted to become a Cererian, so that I might help bring more greenery to a planet that had always found itself in need of food imports. I didn’t tell them, that, though. I didn’t tell anyone. I tried to seem wise, saying that the Gods would decide. That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t making subtle offerings to Ceres, though, in the hopes that she would claim me.
The Aesculapian technician on duty to see to my health was very kind. I don’t remember her name, but I remember her telling me what a brave boy I was to go before the Gods. I guess some kids cry when they’re faced with the prospect of having their futures decided for them. Me, I just swallowed and nodded. I’d always tended to be a quiet kid, and I wasn’t going to let my nervousness get the better of me. I proved to be healthy enough to undergo the Gifting, so soon my clothes were taken from me, and I was led into the darkened chamber that housed the Pandora Device.
The Device was first unveiled to the public in the first year of the 758th Olympiad, and within a century, there was one on every inhabited planet. Prior to that, it was known that some people were favored by the Gods, for reasons we didn’t understand. Our distant history is filled with heroes like mighty Hercules, who had been granted great strength. Our more recent past found seers blessed by Phoebus, who gained glimpses of distant events. At some point, some scientists decided that there needed to be some physiological means by which the Gods acted upon us, rendering some people into something greater than your average human. They created the first Pandora Device so that this potential could be acted upon, and the Gods responded by providing more Gifts than we’d dreamed possible. There were the Phoebean seers, as expected, but the other Gods provided blessings to their favored children as well. There were now Mercurians, who could pull distant objects to themselves with ease or travel to distant places in the blink of an eye, Cererians, who could make anything grow in even the most adverse conditions, Vulcanians, who could craft wondrous machines out of scrap, and countless others, each Gifted with a special ability for the betterment of themselves and society.
That first Device was a hulking monstrosity of metal, wires, and flesh-piercing electrodes. It is easy enough to find images of it today, and its first demonstration is still shown to schoolchildren as part of their science lessons. If the modern Pandora Devices still looked like that, there would be a considerably greater number of children crying at the thought of being hooked into it. I’m lucky. I was born long enough after the invention of the Device that they’d worked out a lot of the kinks. Hardly anyone dies from the process, these days.
Soft blue lights shone from scattered points around the egg-shaped pod, which I guess was intended to be a calming influence on the children. I was shaking as I walked towards the pod. I tried to remain calm, but I was too nervous not to tremble. The Aesculapian brought over a large tube filled with a liquid that seemed to glow in the blue light. I didn’t see the needle attached to it until it was almost to my arm. It didn’t hurt as much as I would have expected, but it was still a sharp pain. I may have whimpered a bit. I don’t remember that part clearly. I guess it doesn’t really matter. The liquid is a mix of hallucinogens to facilitate contact with the Gods and paralytics to numb the senses and prevent struggling within the Device. The Aesculapian smiled at me, and helped to guide my trembling limbs into the pod.
The lid to the pod silently swung closed, finally ending in a light click. The blue lights illuminating the interior of the pod gradually shifted to a soft red, and the pod began to fill with liquid. I could feel brief little pains as the electrodes pierced my skin, sending quick jolts of electricity through my nervous system. Other needles pierced my veins, adding more drugs to the chemical cocktail already flowing through them. Soft sounds, like the lapping of waves against the shore, filled my ears. I felt only the slightest concern as the fluid reached my neck. The drugs in my veins had already ensured that I would not struggle. Even as the liquid poured down my throat and filled my lungs, I felt only the tiniest concern. The liquid was breathable, though, and even that concern soon faded away. It became increasingly difficult to focus on any given thought. One would rise up, then quickly fade away, replaced by another. None of them mattered. I existed in the moment. I lost track of where my body ended and the fluid began. I was nothing. I was everything.
Abruptly, I stood on a barren rocky shore, at the edge of a dark river. I felt a cold weight in my hand, and looked down to find a single golden coin clutched in it. Was I dead? It certainly seemed like it. I had the coin in my hand, and the sound of water dripping lightly into the river signaled the approach of the ferryman. Then I *did* know fear. The wooden skiff approached, pulled along by Charon’s pole. The ferryman himself was hunched over, garbed in blood red with a conical hat upon his head. His fiery eyes met my own. The ugly old man stared into my soul and smiled, fierce teeth gleaming beneath a crooked nose. With one withered hand, Charon beckoned me forward.
“Come along, child, I do not wish to be delayed further,” he said, his unkempt white beard quivering as he spoke. His voice was harsh, impatient, pitiless.
“My apologies, sir,” I said softly, stepping forward.
“Don’t apologize,” he snapped. “Obey. I ha
ve many rounds to make, and your delay could cost me.”
I started to apologize again, but stopped myself. I climbed into the skiff and sat down. The skiff did not move. Charon glared at me impatiently.
“My fare?” the old daemon finally demanded.
“Sorry,” I said, dropping the coin into his waiting palm.
The ferryman grumbled as he pushed off, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Given that I’m certain he was cursing me, though, I suppose that was probably for the best. The entire rest of the trip across the river, Charon spoke not one word to me, and I chose to respect his silence by maintaining my own. When we reached the other shore and he barked at me to get out, I did not delay.
The stone tunnel I walked through loomed overhead, its roof lost in the darkness far above, its walls barely illuminated by the scattered torches that lit the way. There were numerous shades walking along with me, though I had a hard time focusing on any of their features. None of them seemed familiar to me, though, so I eventually turned my head towards our destination and walked forward, no longer taking the effort to look at the scenery around me. The tunnel gradually narrowed, funneling the shades of the dead towards a central point. There, three wise kings sat in judgment over the dead. Swallowing nervously, I took my place in line. I didn’t know what the judges would think of a child who had died during his Gifting, but I was not nearly confident enough of my goodness to expect Elysium.
“You, boy, come here,” one of the judges said.
I looked around, but realized that he could only be speaking to me. Despite the long line I stood in, I stepped to the side and came forward. “Yes, sir?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“You are expected, child,” the judge said, smiling warmly. “Go through. Past the Hound, over the Fields of Asphodel, to the palace of our Great Lord, Aidoneus, and his Blessed Bride.”
Despite the warmth on the judge’s face, I trembled as I walked on. What had I done to warrant the personal attention of those who ruled here? I tried to come up with an answer to that question, and none of the ones that I arrived at boded well for the future of my soul. I hadn’t thought that I’d been that bad in life, but as I walked forward, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been wrong. The weight of my guilt dragged my feet downward. I wondered if they’d be so heavy if I was running in the opposite direction, but even at that age, I knew that fleeing would only make things worse for me.
I was so lost in my own worries that I barely noticed the Hound before it bayed at me. The bark of Cerberus struck like thunder, the force rattling my incorporeal bones. The Hound loomed over me, its three vicious heads each easily able devour me in a single bite. All three of them stared down at me as though I were prey, the writhing manes of serpents around each head letting out a chorus of hisses. As much fear as I felt towards those great canine jaws, it was the serpents that frightened me the most. They were as black as the void, and when they opened their mouths to hiss and spit at me, I saw the four fangs that marked them as the deadliest snakes on Enyo, the desert reapers. I had been terrified of them as a living boy, and seeing them now swollen to gigantic size upon the body of the vicious hound, it was all I could do not to die a second time from terror. The hound moved closer, its three heads pulling together to sniff me as one. I closed my eyes, trembling at the snuffling of the heads so close to me, trying not to think of the fanged jaws that could rend my soul apart or of the hissing serpents that even now dripped venom down upon my skin.
Abruptly, the snuffling heads pulled back. I tentatively opened one eye, and found that the hound had moved back. It was now sitting there quietly, watching me. The desert reapers around its necks were coiled together, slumbering against the warmth of the Hound’s fur. The Hound stared at me, but it no longer made any threatening moves towards me. It gradually dawned on me that apparently the beast was not going to devour my soul, and that I was free to pass by. I did so, slowly, though I did not take my eyes off Cerberus until I could no longer see it beyond a curve in the tunnel. Even then, though, I frequently looked back over my shoulder, fearful that I would find myself being stalked by it. For many years after, I sometimes awakened screaming from nightmares of that beast.
I began to breathe a bit easier once I reached the Fields of Asphodel. The grey flowers bobbed gently in a breeze that I was unable to feel. I could see the souls of other dead men, women, and children walking through it. One family seemed to be having a picnic, though the menu seemed to consist entirely of the asphodel that surrounded them. Other souls ran foot races through the blossoms, while still others gathered them into bouquets. I saw people of all shapes and sizes there, each still remembering how they’d appeared when they were living. Some of them seemed blissfully happy with their afterlife, while others wept for the sun and the world that they missed. I wondered, if I avoided any great punishments and ended up here, which would I be? Would I spend my time enjoying the asphodels, or would I mourn the loss of my life for eternity?
The vast field of grey flowers seemed to stretch on forever as I journeyed across it – and then, suddenly, I was at the gates of the palace, and the walk seemed far too short. The palace loomed above me, great dark spires towering overhead, the gold and jewels embedded into the smooth black stone glinting sharply. The golden frieze above the archway depicted several different scenes, each scene flowing into the next, which seemed to come to life in the flickering torchlight. The frieze on the left showed Pluto receiving his lot, while Jupiter received the sky and Neptune the sea. On the right, Pluto smiling down from his throne upon the throngs of the dead gathered below him. The central scene depicted the first story that any schoolchild learned about Pluto: his abduction of his bride. There was no question that she was the jewel of his domain by the way her image was decorated with more precious stones than any other figure in the frieze.
I probably could have continued staring at those images forever. Perhaps I would have, but a soul helpfully whispered in my ear that I was expected, and that it would be rude to keep Lord Pluto waiting. Though I had no flesh remaining, I could feel my cheeks burning just as surely as if I had. There I was, terrified of what fate might await me, and I was going to irritate the God in charge of said fate by making him wait on me. It was on shaky legs that I walked through those halls. Though they were richly appointed, with many highlights of precious metals and stones, they seemed gloomy to me. I was too afraid of what was coming. I could barely look at my surroundings, needing all my attention just to make certain that one foot came down in front of the other. I could not appreciate their beauty at the time, and now, years later, I regret that with all my heart.
The cavernous throne room was deserted except for the God and myself when I walked in. There were two thrones there, Proserpine’s as beautifully gilded and bejeweled as Pluto’s. Though the room was very well lit, the light didn’t fully illuminate the distant ceiling. I could see the jewels embedded in it, gleaming as though they were the familiar stars in the night sky.
Pluto leaned forward in his throne. “You’ve arrived,” he said. His voice echoed through the room. It was powerful, though not unkind.
“Greetings, Lord Pluto,” I said weakly, bowing as respectfully as I could to him. “I am sorry that I kept you waiting.”
“You needn’t apologize, Adrian,” the God said. “The gesture is appreciated, but unnecessary. I am not angry with you.”
My eyes snapped up from the floor tile they had been focused on. “You’re not angry with me?”
“No, child, I am not,” he said.
“I am not going to be punished for all the horrible things I’ve done in my life?” I asked nervously.
The God’s laughter boomed, and for a second I feared that I’d asked the wrong question. What if he hadn’t even considered that until I brought it up? Had I just doomed myself?
“Adrian,” he said, smiling widely, “You are still but a small child. You have decades yet left to live a good and virtuous life. I expect you to do s
o.”
“But I’m already dead…” I said sadly. “How can I live a virtuous life if I’m already dead?”
“You’re not dead, child,” he said gently. “I have brought you here so that I could give you a Gift.”
My heart thudded in my chest, and I now wondered whether I was really feeling it or not. I was not to be a Cererian, or a Vestian, or even a Martian. I was going to be a Plutonian.
“Thank you,” I said softly, not certain how to feel.
He held out his hand, and a surprisingly simple helmet appeared in it. The helm was made of a translucent black metal, giving it the impression of having been forged from shadows. It was perfectly formed, without any highlights or embellishments to render it a great work of art or a show of Pluto’s boundless wealth. Despite that, I couldn’t help but find beauty in it.
“Do you know what this is, Adrian?”
I shook my head. “No, Lord Pluto. It is beautiful, but it is not bejeweled like so many of the other things in your possession.”
“It doesn’t require jewels, Adrian. In fact, it would suffer for having them. It is an object that is meant to be subtle and unnoticeable, and if it had jewels, it would be far more magnificent, and far more noticeable. This, Adrian, is called the Helm of Darkness, amongst many other names. It carries within it the gloom of night, making the one who wears it as difficult to find as a man cloaked in black in a dark cavern on a moonless night. I am giving this Gift to you, so that you might become unseen when the need arrives.”
“Thank you,” I said, though I know not whether any sound actually emerged from my mouth. I had heard of the object before, but had not recognized it. I accepted the Helm lovingly, knowing that it was the greatest Gift I would ever receive.
“You are welcome,” he said, smiling widely. “Just use it well.”
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