by Steve LeBel
Bowin, whose job was to watch for the young god, alerted the others the boy had been seen heading into the woods. The watchers came together, careful to make no noise. They liked the boy. They’d seen many gods in town before they became refugees and fled to the woods. This one was gentle, and they knew he would not hurt them. Even so, they never let him know they were there.
Two weeks earlier, something had changed. The boy no longer left home in the mornings. And he was spending more time than ever in the woods. They liked seeing more of him, but they wondered what had happened. For the first few days, he walked along the path and even hummed tunes. His shimmer had been strong, with flecks of gold and blue. He seemed very happy. Bowin had to caution the other watchers not to be caught up in their joy at seeing so much of the boy. There was still great danger in the woods, and they needed to be cautious.
Following the boy was always an adventure. Strange things happened near him, like branches breaking or things moving by themselves. Once, when Gingi was watching the boy, something pushed the branch she was lying on, and she had to hold tight or she might have fallen. It was as if an invisible force surrounded the young god. Strange things often happened near him. It was common for things from his pockets to end up on the ground. They had talked about it many times. They were sure the boy did not intend the contents of his pockets to be emptied. Bowin always assigned two members of their troupe to recover lost items and return them to the boy’s home.
Bowin wished he understood the language of the gods. It was not easy. The gods communicated mostly with sounds, but the sounds were very complex. And there was a relationship between their sounds and the colors in the shimmers that surrounded them. The young ones, like their boy, often displayed many constantly changing colors, while the older gods showed few changes in color. And they never seemed to talk with other parts of their bodies. Lamona speculated the gods had been forced to learn complicated verbal sounds because they had no tails or even ears they could move to make their meaning clear. Bowin was not convinced. He thought the gods were so powerful, they simply had no need for soundless ways to talk. But no one really knew what the gods were thinking. And that was reason enough to keep your distance.
Today, and for the last three days, they saw none of the gold and blue colors in the shimmering light that surrounded the boy. The young god’s head was down, seeming to stare at the path in front of him. Several times, he changed direction without warning, as if wrestling inner demons. And the strange things that happened close to him were happening even farther away. Once, he turned around so fast, he almost saw them, and they had to scramble for cover.
Still, they followed.
* * *
After a time, Bernie’s thoughts slowly untangled and began to make sense. He’d come a long way, but it wasn’t over. Everything depended on getting hired by The Business. He’d put in his application over a week ago.
“Why is it taking so long?” he asked as he walked along.
If his cloud heard him, it did not respond. But then, it never did. Clouds didn’t talk. In fact, even listening was rare. They seemed to know what was going on, but it was more of an emotional understanding than an intellectual one. A cloud had access to your senses, but it didn’t process things through a full brain. It used the primitive, instinctual part that houses your needs and your desires. And it never thought about consequences. If Bernie could have changed one thing about his cloud, he would have made it think about the consequences of its actions before it did something. But there was no cloud anywhere that did that. Bernie’s strategy was simple: keep himself calm, which tended to keep his cloud calm. Usually. Sometimes. But not always…
Bernie had been to The Edge twice already today. He tried to relax in the moss-covered clearing near the stream, but his nervous energy wouldn’t let him sit still. Doubts he didn’t know he had emerged to trouble him. So he walked.
“My grades were good—I was in the top third of my class,” he said, as if trying to convince someone else. How long did it take to speak with his teachers? Did they talk to all of them? There were some he hoped they didn’t talk to at all.
“Beatrice would say good things. She was the best,” he said, thinking immediately of his favorite teacher. “But what would the others say?” Most of them would only remember him as the kid who fought with Billy. No matter how many times he thought about the fight, the intense feelings never diminished. Going over the edge like that was the worst thing he’d ever done. Ouch!
Bernie felt the pull on his hair and quickly slapped it down before it could tie itself into a knot. He calmed his mind and turned away from thoughts of the fight, lest his cloud become even more upset.
As if on cue, he found himself at The Edge. Had some part of his sub-consciousness sent him here again? What is it that keeps calling to me out there? At this point on the rim, the land sloped gently downward. It would be a leisurely stroll down into the unknown territory. Did such thoughts make him insane? No. He was as sane as anyone else. It was just the pressure.
A tug on the cuff of his pants brought him back to reality. “Stop that,” he said automatically. He wasn’t surprised to see a snarl of unraveled threads dragging behind him. The threads, once part of his pants, had been used to capture small twigs, leaves, and even an unwary stone that had failed to move out of range. It was one of his cloud’s favorite pranks. “We can’t afford to buy more clothes right now. We already bought new clothes for my interview,” he said, hoping he would have a chance to use them.
The threads twitched once and stopped.
“And don’t even think about doing this to the new clothes. They have to be perfect for my interview.”
The threads and their stranglehold on the collection of sticks and stones loosened in response to Bernie’s words. Suddenly the captured sticks raced off in different directions, free at last from the threads that had held them tight. The stone rolled drunkenly down the path.
“That’s not funny,” said Bernie. “And please don’t do it again.”
After a time, Bernie resumed his walk. He found no answers. Everything was already in motion. There was no test he could retake, no class he could study for, no extra-credit assignments to do.
There was nothing he could do except wait.
* * *
And so, the watchers with the tiny eyes, they waited with him.
Bad Ethics
Ezrah found Gabriel’s office easily. After all these years, he knew his way around The School very well. He didn’t often have reasons to interview the creation ethics teacher, but the note Gabriel left in Bernie’s file couldn’t be ignored.
“Bernie was a big problem in my class.” Gabriel thundered his complaint with the voice qualities of an elder god. Ezrah, no youngster himself, struggled not to succumb to its power.
“In what way?” Ezrah got out his notebook.
“He rejected the basic building principles we’ve taught for millennia. He just didn’t get it.”
“What do you think was going on?”
“I’ve seen it before. Some kids can’t stay objective,” said Gabriel. “They get attached to their creations, and then nothing you say makes any difference.”
“Did Bernie violate the rule against communicating with higher life forms?”
“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Gabriel replied. “Well, I never heard about it if he did. I checked with some of his teachers, but they never saw him break the rule either. But, who knows? Maybe he did it with a personal universe at home. Lots of kids have them.”
“What kind of things did he challenge?”
“Where to begin? One day I was telling them about the importance of instilling death directives into their life forms. I’m sure you know, Ezrah, finite life spans are essential for any kind of evolutionary process. No one ever gets complex life forms right on their first try. You have to weed out the bad ones so your superior specimens can make more contributions to the gene pool. If none of your creatures ever
die, what are you going to do with the inferior specimens you don’t want anymore?
“I couldn’t believe Bernie’s response. He said, ‘It doesn’t seem fair. The gods don’t have a death directive, but we give one to everyone else. Why should we make everything else die if we don’t?’ I couldn’t believe he was comparing us to something we created.
“I tried to be patient with him. I said, ‘If you don’t instill a death directive, your planet will end up overpopulated with misfits. You won’t be able to accomplish your evolutionary goals, and everything will eventually starve.’ ‘But we don’t overpopulate,’ he said. ‘We’re different, Bernie. We’re gods. Besides, our retirement rate matches our birth rate, so it’s not a problem for us,’ I said.”
“What did Bernie say?”
“Well, I’ll give him credit for one thing. He always had an answer. He said, ‘You could always increase the food supply.’ So I asked, ‘What about when the planet is full?’ He said, ‘Then make the planet bigger and, after that, make more planets.’ The kid was just plain stubborn.”
“Did he have any other hang-ups?”
“Don’t get me started on his issues with blinking out a population. That one made him nuts. Sometimes you realize your creation isn’t going to make it, and the best thing is to start over. So you blink them out and begin again. Everyone knows that.”
“But not Bernie?”
“Nope. He thought once you created something, you take on some sort of parental responsibility for it,” said Gabriel. “I thought I could force the right answer out of him by asking him what he would do it if his main life form was being destroyed by a second life form. Makes sense to get rid of the invasive species, right? Not to Bernie. ‘I would split the continent so they are not on the same land mass,’ he says.”
“He’s creative,” Ezrah acknowledged.
“One day he asked me to prove the things we create are any different from us. I naturally pointed out that created beings don’t have thoughts or feelings like we do. ‘How do you know?’ he asked. ‘Because they don’t have souls,’ I said. ‘How do you know?’ he asked again. ‘Because we didn’t give them any,’ I said. ‘If I wanted to give a soul to one of my creations, how would I do it?’ he asks. ‘You can’t, because we’re not sure exactly what it is,’ I explained. ‘If we don’t know what a soul is, how do we know we have them and they don’t?’ he says.” Gabriel shook his head. Ezrah wasn’t sure if he saw disgust or anger. “My days were spent in this kind of debate.”
“Did this cause problems with the other students?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think anyone took him seriously. Most kids come from good builder families, and they understood this stuff before they took my class. I think Bernie got his ideas from one of those fringe groups around town always protesting one thing or another.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He used to wear T-shirts from protest rallies. Things like: All life is sacred, Save the Lookies, Why destroy at all? He always wore torn jeans and old tennis shoes. I’ve never seen him in anything else. I think it was his way of defying The School’s unwritten dress code.”
“I saw you gave him a D+ for the class.”
“It was the lowest grade I could give him. He knew the right answers so he did well on the midterm exam. But in class, he disagreed with everything. I changed the final exam to essay questions hoping I could flunk him, but I couldn’t quite justify it.”
“Is that why you wrote the special report and put it in his file?”
“Yes. I knew he would eventually get to The Business, and I didn’t want you guys blind-sided.”
“Well, thanks for the warning, Gabriel. I appreciate it.”
Beatrice’s Version
Ezrah stuffed the notes from his meeting with Gabriel into his briefcase and walked down the hallway to see Beatrice. He couldn’t help smiling as he approached her office. If she’d been one of his teachers, he might have ended up a builder instead of going into personnel.
“Hello, Ezrah.” Beatrice beamed a bright smile at him. “Who are you sleuthing out today?”
“Today, it’s Bernie.”
“Sure. He’s been in my classes for several years. One of my favorite students, actually. What do you want to know?”
“In looking over his file and talking to Caleb and Gabriel, I have some doubts about him.”
“Why?” She looked puzzled.
“Gabriel said Bernie argued with him about numerous ethics issues. Bernie challenged the death directive, argued against blinking out his mistakes, insisted created life has feelings, and more. I assume you observed similar behavior.”
“Well, you have to understand Gabriel is very ‘old school’. He doesn’t like it if anyone questions anything.”
“No kidding. Listening to one of the elder gods is always intense. My ears are still ringing,” said Ezrah. He knew they would say the same thing about him someday, but not for a while yet. “I’m concerned, though. He described some very stubborn behavior by Bernie.”
“Bernie has, on occasion, resisted doing things. But I’ve always been able to get him to do what was needed.” She flashed Ezrah a pretty smile, and to make sure he understood her meaning, she radiated her shimmer at him. Ezrah found himself watching a hypno-wheel of swirling colors pulling him into its center.
“I can see how that would be hard for any young god to resist,” Ezrah said. And then they both laughed.
“Well, you have to understand. Bernie is a pacifist. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody or anything, and this influences everything he does, including his building assignments. But he listens well and whenever I made suggestions, he did his best to carry them out.”
“So he had no problem blinking things out when you asked him to?”
“I didn’t say that. He still had problems with it, and if there was any way he could think of to accomplish the same thing without blinking something, he did. He was quite creative, actually. I think he takes after his mother in that way.”
“You know the family?”
“Sure. His mom attended parent-teacher conferences, and she’s active in the PTA, too. I wish more parents were as involved.”
“Where does she work?”
“She’s a waitress in one of the restaurants in Central Plaza. Her name is Hannah. You’ve probably seen her around.”
“What about his dad? What’s he like?”
“Oh, gosh. You didn’t know? His dad is Simeon.”
“You’re kidding! Simeon? He’s amazing,” said Ezrah. “I went to a couple of his lectures after he won his second Universe Award. He has three now, you know. I can’t remember the last time someone won that many.”
“Neither can I.”
“So you got to meet him. What’s he like?” Ezrah leaned closer.
“No, I’ve never met him. He and Hannah are divorced. Let me think… It was right after he won the second award. Bernie would have been about eight or nine then, I think.”
“Divorce is hard on kids. How did Bernie handle it?”
“Oh, that happened before I knew him. I remember his mom said it was rough on Bernie when they had to move out to Section Five. He lost most of his friends.”
“That would be hard on anyone. I don’t think there’s anything out there but the project homes and the woods. And then the wilderness.”
“That’s about right, I think. I’ve never been out to Section Five.”
“I have. I went all the way out to The Edge once. You have to walk a long way through the woods to get there. Then, when you get to The Edge, you can see the wilderness down below. It goes on forever.”
“Did you go past The Edge?”
“Not me. Who knows what might be lurking there? I have too much to live for.” Ezrah chuckled.
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have done Bernie any harm. He told me once he likes to walk in the woods.”
“So you’re telling me Bernie is a lonely guy with a death wish?” Ezrah asked with
a twinkle in his eye.
Beatrice laughed. “Seriously, I like the boy. He might be a little different, but wouldn’t you be if you grew up in the shadow of a famous father?”
“How does he get along with the other kids?”
“Quite well. Much better for the last couple of years. There was a little cabal that used to pick on him. I think they were jealous of the attention he got because of his dad.”
“It doesn’t seem like it would be hard to rise above that.”
“Well, remember, a lot of things happened when his parents separated. For one, they went from being comfortable financially to, well… Section Five,” she said.
“Tell me about this little cabal.”
“The ringleader was a guy named Billy. Do you know him? He graduated a year ahead of Bernie.”
“Oh, yes. I hired Billy. I still get the creeps when I think of his scar. It’s really hard to… Oh, wait! Wasn’t Bernie the one who fought with Billy? I remember now—it was Simeon’s son who did it.”
“Yes, but remember, they were only about eight or nine when it happened,” she said a little defensively.
“But still.” Ezrah recoiled from his memory of the incident. “What Bernie did was awful! Nobody deserves that.”
“Wait a minute, Ezrah,” said Beatrice. “It wasn’t Bernie. It was his chaos cloud that did it.”
“But still.”
“Ezrah, let me explain. Billy picked on Bernie every chance he got for years. Bernie never responded to any of his provocations. But one day, when Billy was at it again, one of the students, a girl named Suzie, stuck up for Bernie. When she did, Billy hit her. That’s when Bernie hit Billy. He was defending Suzie.”
“I know Suzie. She works for me.” Trying to protect a friend—that sounds like something she would do, Ezrah thought. His mental picture of Suzie faded as he thought again of the scar on Billy’s face. “But he shouldn’t have lost control of his cloud.”