by M. K. Gibson
“Sir,” Sophia said, jumping to her feet.
“I know you’re behind this trip down memory lane. Plot my demise on your time. For now, we’re on the clock. My list of potential enemies is long. Too long. And most likely, one of these jealous deities has my child.”
“Where should we start looking?” Sophia asked.
I shook my head. “No, when one wants something done, actually done, you don’t start at the bottom. You go right to the top.”
“Sir, you don’t mean--”
“Yes. I want a meeting with The One.”
Chapter Eleven
Where I Take a Walk, Chat with a Neighbor, and Grin and Bear It
In the middle of all the known and unknown universes exists a singular point where the realities of all dimensions touch. It is known to us gods and higher beings as The Nexus Point. It is the absolute highest plane of existence we gods can reach.
For mortals, think of ascending to The Nexus Point as becoming a billionaire CEO of a Fortune 500 company. But if we’re being really honest, for most of you, The Nexus Point is your equivalent of community college acceptance and spending your tax refund check on a bitchin’ neck tattoo.
Your personal failings aside, you just need to know that The Nexus Point is the domain of The One. The singular entity upon which all creation, all existence across the known and unknown universes, is predicated.
Don’t be too impressed. Apparently it’s a rotating position. When The One grows weary from maintaining the cosmic fabric of reality, the mantle, and burden, is passed to another worthy High God. The outgoing One slips into a state of semi-retirement.
Technically, one day I could be The One. I’m sure a few of my loyal fans would love to see that. But who would want that burden? Imagine me being responsible for everything across the inconceivable vastness of all creation and nothingness. Gods above and below, the thought of listening to the constant whining, begging, and karmic panhandling would be enough to make me end it all.
That’s the problem with being The One. You can’t play favorites. The very nature of the position means you have to be . . . fair. No, let those who actually care about others do that job. I’d rather be just a fun-loving villain.
The journey to The Nexus Point is arduous for some gods and impossible for mortals. You see, the entry to The Nexus Point, in some universes, exists as the tiniest pinprick, across the furthest expanse, in the most remote recesses of time and space.
In a small pocket dimension like mine, I can see the Nexus Point out of my back window.
I stepped through the small portal behind my corporate headquarters into what was for all intents and purposes my back yard. My own personal quiet place. Normally, my dimension appeared as a corporate building atop a lone asteroid adrift in an endless void of space and time.
But as I’m a family man now, I’ve made some modifications. Hence my little addition of suburbia.
The back yard was a simple, secluded grassy spot with trees, a gazebo and fire pit, a child’s play area, and a koi pond. My dimension’s entrance to The Nexus Point was just beyond my property line and resembled a mist-covered, cobblestone path winding up an idyllic countryside hill.
The light of the Nexus Point was powerful this evening. A brilliant yellowish light was giving way to white, signifying the change from day to night. Atop the hill’s peak, a lone figure stood, watching me.
Dmitrius, the Stoic One.
The celestial being looked on with a bored expression. Or at least he feigned being bored. Truth was, he hated me. Out there, in the multiverse, his kin moved under order of The One, ever maintaining the balance of the universes. But Dmitrius’s sole assignment in the universe was to be, in essence, a doorman between my realm and The Nexus Point.
I nodded to the celestial being. He in turn gave me the finger.
“That’s not very neighborly,” I called out.
“And you’re not much of a neighbor,” Dmitrius called back.
Smug angelic prick.
I ignored Dmitrius’s taunt and got my head in the game. When one is preparing to visit The One, one should come with an air of confidence, poise, decorum, and nobility. I took a moment to straighten the lines of my suit and ran a quick finger comb through my hair. Satisfied, I put my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and began to emit waves of my power. The mist along the path swept aside and the cobblestone began to glow. Through my power, I established a tangible connection between my dimension and The Nexus Point.
I took two steps and promptly tripped over Evie’s tricycle, which I swear wasn’t there a moment before.
“Well done,” Dmitrius called out as he began a slow clap. “Very befitting a god of your stature.”
I said nothing in response. Shocking, I know. Instead, I simply stood up, brushed myself off, and set Evie’s tricycle aside.
“Clumsy me,” I said as I walked up the misty path. “I guess my daughter left her toys out.”
“Appears so,” the winged celestial said as I approached.
Dmitrius was naked, with no external genitalia. He was humanoid, with bluish, plastic-looking skin and sharp metallic white wings, and he stood around seven and a half feet tall. His head had an angular, alien look to it, and he glared at me with all three of his eyes as I approached. Just behind him stood the entrance to The Nexus Point. From my perspective, it resembled a stone archway with a heavy wooden door. There was a line on the ground just before me, which was the demarcation between my realm and the Nexus Point.
Stepping up to the line, I flashed a smile. “Good evening, Dmitrius. I am here to see The One.”
“No,” said the angelic being.
“Excuse me?”
Dmitrius quirked his head to one side, giving him a birdlike appearance. “The sentence was only one word long. What part did you not understand?”
Huh. Smarmy sarcasm. That’s what that feels like? I wondered if that’s what it’s like for other people when I talk to them.
I mean, clearly they deserve it.
But do I?
“I have an appointment,” I said through slightly gritted teeth. “My secretary called ahead and confirmed it.”
From behind his back, Dmitrius produced a clipboard and looked it over. “Hmm, no, I don’t see a ‘Jackson’ on the list. Nor a ‘Blackwell’, nor a ‘Shadow Master’,” Dmitrius said. “I do see . . . ‘Asshole’. Is that you?”
Once more I regarded his naked form. “I don’t even want to know where you pulled that clipboard from. But I have an appointment and this is something of an emergency. So stand aside.”
“Sorry,” Dmitrius said with a smile. “I need to know who is entering The Nexus Point. As such, I need you to announce yourself.”
I narrowed my eyes at the bigger entity. I reached into my suit’s inner pocket and took out the picture that Evie had drawn. “See this?”
“That’s . . . really badly drawn,” Dmitrus said.
“I know,” I agreed, nodding towards the drawing. “But it was drawn by my daughter. She’s been kidnapped. That is why I am here.”
Dmitrius took half a step back. “Wait, someone took Evie?”
“Yes,” I said solemnly. “I need The One’s permission to search for her. I know you hate me, and that’s fine. But this isn’t about me; it’s about her.”
Dmitrius hung his head. “Jackson, I--I’m sorry. Of course, of course, go on in.”
“Thank you,” I said, folding the picture and putting it back into my suit’s inner pocket. As I took a step forward, Dmitrius’s large hand slapped me hard in the chest, blocking my path.
“You can go in . . . provided you announce yourself as ‘Asshole’.”
“But . . . Evie.”
“I don’t care about your spawn,” Dmirius said, bending down and leaning in close. “I detest her just as much as I do you and this insulting assignment. When I stand watch over your realm, I sometimes conjure birds just to shit on her. For all I care, all of you villainous garbage beings c
an go straight to the Never Realm. In fact, if it were up to me, I’d personally send you all there myself. But for some reason, The One allows your existence. Now, I see you care for your kid. I guess that’s at least one redeeming trait you possess. But if you want in here, then . . . announce yourself.”
I glared at the celestial with murderous rage.
“Just think of your snot-nosed, entitled sexual accident,” Dmitrius said. “Swallow your massive pride and say the damn word.”
I took half a step back and mumbled under my breath.
“Hmm?” Dmitrius said, leaning towards me and cupping his pointy ear. “Say that again. I couldn’t quite make that out.”
Again, I mumbled, unable to speak aloud.
“Come on, little god,” Dmitrius said, smiling wide with his eyes closed. “You have to say it loud enough for me to hear it in order to grant you access.”
I thought of about a hundred different ways to hurt the celestial. A dozen more ways to torture him. Several that would ensure his death was permanent.
But I only had one reason for being here.
So with a heavy sigh, I swallowed my pride and cleared my throat. “The . . . asshole is here for his appointment with The One.”
Dmitrius took a step back and the gate lifted. “Welcome to The Nexus Point.”
Chapter Twelve
Where I Get Snarky with the Supreme Being, Grovel, and Compare Life to Netflix
All matter and time ceased to be. The very electrons orbiting my atoms stopped as I entered The Nexus Point, the realm of The One.
I should have been dead. Or simply ceased to be. My very being should have fallen apart into the base star stuff from which all that is, or will be, is made. Yet I lived. Whole and untainted.
Well . . . a little tainted.
This neat trick, while a middle finger to all known science and reality, was simply a delousing protocol upon entering The Nexus Point. One does not want a supreme being contracting a case of the space sniffles, deity fever, or higher-powered herpes. Historical accords from the ancient epochs recounted that the last time that happened, the universe was cursed with wormholes, black holes, and folded space.
Oh, and gingers.
Not the cool gingers, with just a dash of red. No no no. I’m talking the really creepy pale ones with the freckles and dead eyes.
Did you know that if you took out a Sharpie and connected those freckles, you’d see the eldritch rune pattern to summon cosmic horrors from outside the universe? Totally true. I dare you to try.
Once I felt “myself” again, reality came into focus. I stood amid swirling smoky black shadows and misty white clouds. There was no up, no down. There was simply . . . existence.
“Greetings,” I called out in a respectful tone. “I am--”
“I know who you are.” The power of The One resonated throughout The Nexus Point.
“Right,” I said, nodding to myself. “Of course you do. I am here to--”
“I know why you have come here,” The One boomed.
I bit my lip as the frustration of dealing with an omnipotent interrupter built within me. Little by little, I forced a smile while taking a relaxing breath. “Yeah . . . yeah. Of course you do. You see, I’m requesting that--”
“I know what it is you seek--”
“I know you know!” I blurted out, anger getting the best of me. I rubbed at my face in frustration. Maybe it was unwise to get sassy with the being that ran the entire universe. But my daughter’s life was at stake. And let’s be honest, who among us hasn’t called out to, or cursed, a deity while in anger?
Or during an orgasm.
And, BeeTeeDubs . . . they listen, every time. They might not respond, if ever, but they listen. Especially during the orgasms. Gods . . . pervy lot we be.
“Sorry, but come on,” I explained, harsher than I intended. Maybe it was the stress of the situation, or that I’d had to grovel outside to gain entrance. But I’d reached my personal limit. “I get that you know everything, but sometimes a man, or god, has to explain themselves and vocalize. Does that compute, or are you too busy thinking up new ways of fucking with atheists?”
A light like an exploding sun lit up The Nexus Point, forcing me to close my eyes.
Oh, shit.
In hindsight, I may have gone a touch too far.
“Jackson Blackwell!” The One boomed from all around. “You presume to speak in such a manner?”
“Yes?”
I felt existence shake all around me as the cosmos threatened to reject my being a part of it. I dropped to my knees and lowered my head, prostrating myself. When a few moments went by and I wasn’t . . . smited, I lifted my eyes.
Before me, the grand council table where the Conclave of the Deities met blinked into existence. The table was a glossy black with deep-set, glowing golden scrollwork. I saw a figure sitting at the head of the table. The being was humanoid and shifted between light and darkness, existence and void, joy and suffering.
He was also rocking a pretty cool goatee.
“Jackson,” the avatar of The One spoke, its voice right and powerful, “I am . . . fucking with you.”
Uh . . . what? I quirked an eyebrow and dared to look up. “Really?”
“Really,” The One mused. “Now get up. You look ridiculous down there.”
I had to agree. On my knees was not something I was accustomed to—outside of the bedroom, that is. Behind closed doors, things in the Blackwell abode got . . . saucy.
Obeying, I stood and took a seat at the high table with an approving nod from The One.
“Thank you,” I said. “I must confess, I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”
The One sighed deeply. The expression sounded like crystallized light drifting across the strings that bound the fabric of reality.
“I thought I made it abundantly clear to the universe when I gave people free will that I had a messed-up sense of humor.”
“How so?” I asked, taking out one of my black cigarettes. The tip sparked to life on its own as The One mimed a finger gun at my smoke.
“Because nothing is funnier than watching mortals running around once they realize they can do whatever they want, but then realize that death is looming. And that ultimately, nothing matters. Heh. Nihilism. Good times.”
“That’s dark.” I smiled, puffing on my cigarette.
“It passes the time.” The One shrugged. “So, you are here to get my permission to seek out your daughter.”
“Yes,” I said. “I assume you know where she is?”
“I do. But I will not tell you where Evie is.”
I leaned forward and stared at The One. “Why?”
The supreme being chuckled. “Of all the gods, you, Jackson, are unique. A mortal who became a god. It is your . . . perspective that I enjoy, and why I allow you to continue existing.”
“Thanks?”
“My function,” The One said, “is not to corral lesser beings. Besides, if I told you, that would make for a poor story. Imagine what would have happened if Gandalf simply flew the Fellowship to Mordor on the backs of the Eagles.”
“Yeah, it would have saved us all a lot of time,” I said. “But I always heard that the Eagles were basically gods themselves? If they came in contact with the One Ring, they would have been corrupted. The same reason Gandalf refused to accept it.”
“I abhor that retcon excuse,” The One said. “The Eagles saved Bilbo, with the ring, along with the dwarves, in the trees outside of the goblin mountain in The Hobbit. They were not affected then.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “But I think the trolls on Reddit will disagree. And downvote you.”
“Let them,” The One said. “I already ensured their fates.”
“Well, if that’s how it has to be, then I humbly request the Blessing of The One. I seek to enter the realms of other gods in order to save my child.”
“Why do you not simply ask permission of the other gods?”
“With a
ll due respect, your Numero Uno-ness, you’ve seen me operate. With what I need to do, there is no chance any of them will grant me access.”
“I see,” The One said, pondering my request. “I have watched your work. Indeed, the gods of the multiverse will not care for your . . . presence.”
“Then you’ll grant me the Blessing?”
“If I were to say ‘No’, what would you do?”
“I’d go regardless,” I said. “It’d be difficult, but I would find a way.”
“And if you could not?”
I put my cigarette out on the grand council table. “Then I would use Sophia.”
The One leaned back in his chair. “A djinn ripping its way through space-time is not advisable.”
“I agree,” I said. “Which is why I prefer your Blessing.”
“Then in order to find your daughter, I will grant you, Julian Jackson Blackwell, The Blessing of The One.”
An image of a sleek silver and black starship appeared atop the grand table. The image floated and rotated before me.
“This,” The One said, “will be your method of transportation. This ship will carry you from dimension to dimension. It will be, for the lack of better terminology, a mobile embassy of your realm.”
I couldn’t help but smile. The ship was, despite my feelings towards space opera, fucking cool.
Wait. This was too good to be true.
“Okay, what’s the catch?” I asked as I crossed my arms.
“You will operate under certain . . . provisos.”
Of course, naturally there’d be conditions. “Okay, let’s hear them.”
“In any universe you visit, you must adapt to the surroundings.”
I looked at The One with a sideways glace. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that while I grant you access to the multiverse, your presence, and limited power, will be reflected in the appropriate setting.”
“How limited?”
“You will be nearly mortal,” The One said. “Slightly more durable, yes. But as you are entering the realm of other gods uninvited, you must pay the penalty.”
“And if I or my allies were to come under mortal danger?” I asked, knowing that in the past I was allowed to defend myself.
