by Jared Ravens
'Come to the farming villa’, it read.
He was walking that way when I met him. I stopped him, insisting that he come back with me and share a glass of grava, a delicious sedative that Martel credits herself with first fermenting. Humans drink it at their own risk because it tastes bitter and is often poisonous. It took many glasses but I fed Harper’s great body with the liquid until he was stumbling out of my quarters.
I worried that he was too intoxicated to perform, but as I watched out my window he promptly lumbered directly to the barn. I ran swiftly towards the building with glee. I listened from the outside, waiting for him to finish. When he was done he fell over. I left him on the ground, expecting that would wake in the night and find his way home
It was not my intention for the two of them to know what had happened. It would be my secret. But Martel discovered him during the night beside the bewildered cow. I had not destroyed the note and it turned into the evidence that betrayed me, but I was not upset. My own foolishness would get me every so often, but I believed that it was worth it. I had gotten what I was after.
Martel was livid at me and at her beau, and Harper could not find words to express his anger nor his shame. When they came to me they thought their combined minds could find some way to scorn me but they did not I declined to be shamed.
"You hid behind my own walls, wishing to deceive me," I told them. "I stand here now admitting that I deceived you. Which is better? A game for you is a game for me as well.”
Harper had allegedly had sex with a fish. Was a cow in a dress an embarrassment be a sea creature was not? I understood the anger they felt for me but not the animosity they held for each other. It nearly ended their relationship, which, would have made me happy at the time. There was much work to be done and their love was getting in the way. Genesee publicly admonished me but, true to form, thought it was brilliant in private.
Soon our dear Ogden was born, nearly all human but with hoofs for feet. His red beard and bright, determined personality were evident from the start. This was the child that was needed, and I was its mastermind. And so even Goetz saw this and was impressed with the sharpness of my abilities. Ogden took his mother everywhere dressed in human clothes and paraded her proudly through the streets as he assisted women in the fields to grow their bounty.
Though Harper and Martel’s feelings were temporarily harmed, their emotions eventually died down. Their relationship, now out in the open, was accepted by all.
Bolstered by the success of Ogden I turned my attention to the problem of the dead. It is well known that when the living die they do not go away. When I first created women they were easy to manage. Their floating souls blew like strands of magic in the wind. I was able to pull their spirits from the air by feel, like grasping wisps from the breeze and weaving them into a silk cloth.
When Goetz began to imitate me by making men one of the changes it made was solidify their spirts. They remained essentially humans without bodies unless consciously pulled apart like cotton. This was all well and good, as it makes them easier to recycle, but when I agreed to this new standard for their creation I expected some system to be created to deal with these souls. Dead people separate from their bodies and, if not directed properly, wander aimlessly, and often unseen, for as long as there is existence. Some of these dead can realized what is happening and cut a slit in the perception of this existence, escaping to a queue to wait to reenter. I think Goetz was relying on this to happen. But almost none of them did it.
Humans do not usually see other dead humans. But I do. When there were only a handful people it was easy to scoop up the dead ones and fit them into a new body. Then, as people became more numerous, the ghosts began popping up everywhere. Rather than recycling old souls, new ones were being created by Goetz to go in new bodies created by copulation. The old, unused spirits were aimless, moving here and there, watching their old partners and families moving about. They became despondent, and in their empty heads they thought to congregate and pile up, one on top of each other, and hibernate in great mounds like piles of trash.
These hills of spirits appeared everywhere, and even if they went unseen by many they created psychic destress by anyone near them. I was frantic to get Goetz to address the problem but the bureaucratic mess of having to speak to it through Genesee got in the way.
It was a disaster. I could see the worry on people's faces when their invisible loved ones drew close to them. They could not see them but they could feel them. The mass scale of people living beyond their life had created an equal amount of anxiety on the living.
With Holm suddenly leaning towards anarchy, I finally got approval to send Spaulding and his workers deep underground. It was a massive operation, with great tunnels and underground cities being cut out to house the undead spirits. Once deep underground the dead’s psychic diaspora would cease to transfer anxiety to the people above ground. Spaulding dug upwards toward the mounds of ghosts, creating holes to funnel them down. Their nonexistent bodies had fused together in a lazy, grey mass. Though Spaulding (like Curson and many others) could not see them he did feel a wave of despair flow over him when this blob came flowing down onto him through the holes.
But there were simply too much to move like this. I could not pick all of them them up. They floated through my fingers like wisps of air. More and more came, with humans having sex to relieve their depression and Goetz unable to keep up with the recycling. I ceased creating humans but it did not help. People began to go insane from the intensity of the melancholy.
I begged for some mechanism to help manage this. Only at this moment of near collapse did Goetz finally return from its vacation and take action. This was, in theory, ideal since Goetz best suited to understand how to deal with nonphysical beings. I was told to stay away, and I was more than happy to. But I expect it to be done right.
I watched Goetz from far away on the The Hill, its misty body expanding into a dark cloud and floating down to surround and suffocate a hill of spirits. Because of the nature of both Goetz and the invisible bodies I was one of the few that could perceive the whole drama take place. I expected it to pick them up and take them underground. Goetz had a different idea.
Its misty body turned darker, then black as it slowly faded away. I turned to Genesee and asked what was going on. Was this how it was transporting them? He didn't reply. I knew we were in trouble.
A massive thunderstorm formed around the area that Goetz had been. I rushed down The Hill in great leaps towards it. By then Goetz had formed itself over another mound, repeating the process of going from grey to black to nothing. The black thunderclouds expanded each time Goetz did this. By the fourth time the storm covered half the sky, lighting from its epicenter cutting gashes into the ground
"Goetz!" I yelled when it made another appearance. "I see what you are doing! Stop it!"
Goetz quickly disappeared, but it made sure to take its treasure of bodies with it. The cloud expanded again, surrounding me. From the blackness above me I saw a face form from its dark shadows, a male that that let out a wail that transformed into thunder. I yelled up at the face and it looked down on me before disappearing into its own darkness.
Staley appeared beside me, furious that his weather cycle had been interrupted.
"What is happening?” his newly grown head asked me.
"Goetz is creating something from bodies of the dead," I replied angrily. “It’s going to cause a disaster!”
We ran deeper under the cloud, hoping to find a center where the face would speak to us. I heard a wail and looked up to see a distraught man's face breathing rain down onto the ground. The water pelted me as I called up to it.
"Come down,” I called, “or I will come up to you!"
It looked down at me and Staley. Slowly, a huge figure emerged from the smoke and pulled itself down towards me. I could see in its black eyes nothing but distress and fear. It came to my level and I asked it what it was doing.
"I am Waring
," It said. "I am a thousand by a thousand, and I spread myself to contain my multitudes."
"You are blotting out the light and causing anguish in everyone that sees you," I replied. "I command you to follow me for your own safety."
He looked at my small size and then at his own cloak that covered continents and told me he was not accustomed to following someone so tiny. His own angst needed space to expand. But I knew it needed a place to be controlled. The entire city of Sigma was falling over itself in depression and even I felt an oppressive wave surrounding me. Staley pressed me to allow him to fight Waring but I thought it was better to use another tact with something so powerful. After all, we needed Waring.
"Come with me," I told Waring. "I wish to invite you dine, and celebrate your creation, for you are useful to all of us here."
"I do not eat but I will come with you,” he said, pulling his cloak as he walked along side me. This was a heavy walk for both Staley and I, as our new friend only spoke of darkness when he spoke at all. He was composed of only destitute souls and they pulled at him in every direction. I saw him light up when he saw at the beast of the forest cower at him from a distance. He explained that he had never seen anything these animals before.
"Would you like to try one?" I asked, and though he didn't answer I sent Vivian into the woods to fetch one. She came back with a doe over her shoulder and lifted it up as an offering to Waring. He took it in his coal black fingers and licked it, then drank from it. His was in ecstasy, as if a sweet vanilla pudding was flowing down his throat. The lifeless body fell from his hand as he signed deeply at the satisfaction of another death. We continued on to Sigma, where his real appetites became apparent.
He eyed every passing person. Though they kept their distance, he succeeded in catching several and savoring their souls. I warned him only to take the men but several times he captured a woman and I had watch, helplessly, as her screams were slowly pulled from her body.
He threw the empty bodies over his shoulder like rag dolls, leaving in our path a trail of dead that led to the top of The Hill. Everyone scrambled away at the sight of us. When we reached The Table of Eternity to dine not a single person was in sight.
I sent our depressive guest to spend time with Genesee while dinner was prepared. I set Ogden to finding good cloth from his collection of wool fabrics. As dinner neared, Martel, Harper and I cowered in a corner and sewed together human sized rag dolls. Dressed in clothes they seemed lifelike enough.
"Will he think they are real?" asked Harper. "Will they taste realistic?"
“What do the dead taste like?" Staley replied, still angered over the thunderstorm outside
I filled the cooked dolls with the harshest grava that we had, a substance that is usually massively diluted before consumed. We cooked the dolls and put them on a plate before presenting them to Waring at the Table of Eternity.
The hallways were as vacant. Not a soul stirred as I joined Waring, Genesee, Martel, Spaulding, Staley, Curson, Ogden, and Harper at a very reluctant diner feast. We picked at our own food as I smiled and presented the best face I could. The dolls were uncovered and Waring looked at them curiously.
"These are prepared in a special way," I explained. "They will taste much better than the raw ones you consumed."
He did not sniff at them but merely looked at them. After a pause he began that horrible sucking sound, pulling the essence from inside. The grava was pale yellow, close to the color I had seen coming off the people, and he licked it down fast. Seemingly satisfied he tried two more. We stoped eating to watch him feast, and I nudged Martel to go make more. With each one he became happier, and the mood lightened. Soon the sky lightened and the smokey air became clear. His cloak floated down from the sky and the thunder finally muted.
We told stories, one after another, to make him laugh. He became so rambunctious that he began to dance, trouncing his transparent body through pillars and stumbling onto the ground soundlessly.
"I don't mean to make such a ruckus!" He said, laughing.
Waring became more tired from the grava. He was soon laying down to sleep. Carson and Spaulding stuffed his smoky body into a large sack and carried him down the mountain to the underground caverns.
When he woke the first thing he saw was my face. He felt a horrible pain across in his body.
"Oh, my," he said. "What has happened to me?"
"Oh, you feel badly?" I replied, nursing his head. "I can't imagine why. What did you have?"
“Only... those things."
"Oh, the people. You ate all of them?"
He became nauseous at the thought, bending over from his bed.
"I'm sorry, my dear, you must know that's why we don't eat them."
He wails reverberated off the cavern walls.
"Where am I?"
"I have made a home for you," I said. "Far from the brightness of light. It shines all day above here, and the people demand it do so."
He wailed again at the thought of brightness.
"But we have duties to keep you sane, and workers to keep you company. For you have powers beyond even mine and there is necessity in all you have. Here we need the machinery to cleanse and recycle those that have died. You will never have to see another body of a human, only their essence, and you may have control over their fate. And always you will have a seat with us on The Hill.'
This last thought made him wail again, to my delight. He would never come to visit us voluntarily again. On the occasions we required his presence he would decline to eat and leave as soon as our meal was over.
On return to The Hill I delivered a tirade to Genesee.
“This is what our Creator has created? Have you seen it! This is a poor beast of a being that wails with pain of a thousand times a thousand tortured souls! Who would crate such a thing and leave it on our land?"
"You agreed something was needed," he replied.
"Yes, but this was madness! And laziness! For our Creator only makes what can be done quickest, and then leaves on his next mission just as fast! Our absentee Creator will be the end of us all some day!"
I told him to deliver this message to Goetz exactly as I said it. I am not sure he complied.
“How else could something be made to take care of these souls unless something is made from the souls itself?” Genesee asked me. “Also, do we not have the being that we need? Have we not a new contributor to make our land more stable now?"
"Some of us contribute more than others," I told him. "And if the end is all we care about, I will find the end I desire and justify everything I do to satisfy it. And then we will all be as full and satisfied as Waring feasting on a plate of dead bodies, will we not?"
As Is
Bern made my way down The Hill, exhausted, his mind beating a new drum of questions to be asked. He slept like a rock once home, and rose with a blank mind, his problems blissfully forgotten for a moment. Then Shayne deliver the news that they wanted him at the office as soon as possible.
"Well, what should we do?”
Bern drummed his fingers on the table and sighed as the board looked to him for an answer. He looked to Divic, sweat rolling down his jowls. The four women and two men at the table waited for one of them to speak. Then, Divic cleared his throat with a noise like that sounded like a crank turning.
"I think we should table this for now and see what comes of all of this current nonsense we are involved in,” Divic said
"Here, here,” said Cherin, the loose skin around her cheeks bunching up as she smiled with approval. "I can’t believe we are even considering this.”
The others chattered in approval. Bern was glad this decision was made without argument. But he was bothered by the decision. The book was being brought to them for some reason. He didn’t like the idea of backing down to those on the Hill, not at a time when they were facing a full on revolt. Not at a time when he was being asked to spy for them with nothing tangible in return.
"I don’t agree,” Bern said. The n
oise stopped and everyone looked at him. His body trembled.
"This came directly from Celia. I know it.”
"She wouldn’t even meet with you,” replied one of the board members.
"That’s because she wrote it. Do you think she would have stood for having something being published that wasn’t written by her?”
"She might be unaware or uninterested.”
"Possibly, but even Genesee agreed with me.”
"And that’s another thing to think about,” Divic said. ”Genesee doesn’t want this published.”
"But Celia does,” Bern replied.
"Who won’t even talk to us...”
“So, whose side are we on?” Bern asked.
The board members exchanged confused glances. Cherin spoke up again.
"We try to be on no one’s side. Just the side of the facts.”
“This isn’t about facts. We need to understand that what we are doing is choosing a side. This is coming at us right now for a reason. There was a demonstration yesterday with people openly supporting Fairfax. There were so many demonstrators that most got away before being arrested.”
“What does this have to do with Fairfax?” Cherin asked.
“Power,” Bern replied. “Blame. I saw what he did to their palace. There’s damage everywhere. He blew a hole in the side. Genesee can’t catch him. And he’s very defensive about it.”
“But nothing in these pages even mentions Fairfax,” Cherin argued.
“They do,” Bern said. “The next part does. It arrived at my door while I was gone. She’s laying out her whole argument slowly. If Genesee can’t control Fairfax, laying history in her terms to make the case that she can. Just as she has in the past.”
There was silence.
"Are you suggesting we spread propaganda for Celia?” The voice was meek, emanating from a stocky, balding man. “We should publish propaganda that diminishes almost every other one of those people on The Hill?”
