The Deplosion Saga

by Paul Anlee

  “And this, I’m told, is the Familiar of Brother Stralasi, the machine embodiment of a man who, until only last year, was a monk of the Alumita, the spiritual home of My People in that other universe. At present, Brother Stralasi himself is apparently a citizen of a colony I once founded; sadly, it turned to rebellion some years ago. Nothing to do with our dedicated Good Brother, of course. Perhaps he was visiting to see if he could bring them back into the fold. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

  So many unfamiliar words and concepts! Mirly struggled to make sense of Alum’s introduction. Uncertain of the etiquette of her situation, Mirly gave a low formal bow. The other God—Darak—returned the bow graciously, and the metal sphere gave a little bob.

  “In addition to these two, who are more or less physically present,” Alum continued, “we are blessed with the presence of several billion People viewing remotely from My external Realm.”

  She bowed to the sphere. “Welcome, all,” she said, though it came out a little more tired-sounding than she’d intended.

  The four stood still, exchanging stares, equally uncertain of how to proceed.

  Alum broke the silence, addressing His words to Mirly.

  “We were nearly finished our tour of Heaven. But you’ve been on quite the tour, yourself, haven’t you? I’ve followed your progress with some interest. Perhaps you would share some of your experiences with us?”

  Share my travels and my thoughts with two Gods, a floating ball, and billions of strangers who are somehow listening, even though they aren’t really here?—Mirly fretted.

  “My Lord, I am hardly worthy to contribute anything useful in such company,” she protested.

  “Nonsense,” He replied. “We are all just people, here. All just trying to come to a conclusion about the fate of our two universes. Your story is as valuable as any of ours. I have been blessed with your art before and found it joyful. Bless us all, now, with your tale. Please.”

  Joyful? That wasn’t how she remembered His reaction to her last mandala, the one that had set her on her arduous journey. But if that was how Alum wanted to represent her art, He had to have His reasons.

  A cushion-stone appeared to one side of the four of them. Alum motioned for Mirly to be seated. She delicately walked to the stone and rested her haunches on it. It felt good to be in a more restful pose.

  “Ah, my dear. I beg your pardon. You’ve traveled far with little rest,” Alum said. “Your energy stores must be depleted.”

  He flourished a hand and Mirly felt instantly refreshed and revived.

  “A gift,” He said, “for sharing your stories and perspective.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” Mirly replied. “I haven’t been as careful of my energy levels as I should have been during my travels.”

  Alum waved away her apology.

  “No need for regrets. You had much to see, and needed great determination to see it all. Tell us about the structure and function of Heaven, of its beauty, of its people. Tell us of the good, the imperfect, and the confusing. The others can ask their questions, and the outside universe can learn of our world.”

  Mirly shifted on her seat and tried to compose her thoughts. So much had happened to her. She had traveled far, through a great variety of terrain from the edge of Heaven to its Core. She’d also collected centuries of memories—almost all happy—of her life as one of God’s creatures.

  She began.

  15

  “Life in Heaven is nothing but pure joy and continuous blessing,” Mirly said.

  “I have lived many long lives, happy to be growing, learning, and improving. I was filled with love for our Lord and dedicated myself, as we all do, to singing His praises. My gifts in my current anima form run toward music and the visual arts.”

  She smiled. “I like to arrange musical notes in unusual combinations and compositions. And I like to arrange pretty stones and colored sands into complex shapes.”

  “Ah, yes,” Alum said. “Let’s examine your last work. The one that set you on your journey. The one you believe I disapprove of.”

  How could He know that?—Mirly wondered. Then she remembered God truly did know all. Had she needed more proof, this would be it.

  The Living God shifted all four of them to the top of the gigantic boulder, looking down on the very same mandala Mirly had created, the one that had started her misery. Somehow, Alum had magically caused the mandala to reappear in all of its glorious, swirling colors!

  Mirly smiled on hearing her composition for the variable flute playing in the background. The pleasing notes floated over them; she couldn’t tell from where.

  Are we really here, again?—she wondered. Or is this a shared dream?

  Darak grunted. “Earth, from high above the North Pole.”

  Mirly looked down. The colors and design still pleased her but much less so now, knowing that Alum had been less than happy with it.

  Alum walked to one edge of the boulder and pointed to a section of the picture.

  “You can see, here, where some of My less pleasant memories crept into this universe from outside.”

  Darak followed His outstretched arm and laughed.

  “Oh, my! Yes, I can see why this might not have been completely pleasing to You, but how could this poor creature have known?”

  Stralasi’s Familiar floated forward.

  “What am I looking at?” he asked.

  “You know it as Origin,” Darak answered, “Ancient Earth. Humanity’s birthplace, shortly before its destruction.”

  He glowered at Alum and his chin pointed to the same gray blob that Alum had indicated. “Perhaps You would like to tell them how that was released.”

  “Perhaps you would like to tell them how it was created,” Alum replied.

  Stralasi heard the challenge in His voice. In both voices. Extraordinary!

  “I didn’t know at the time,” Darak said, “but I do, now. A colleague used something he didn’t fully understand to kill our mentor.”

  “Your mentor—you mean, Dr. Darian Leigh?”

  Darak nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Our lab mate, Larry Rusalov, became unwell, pathologically jealous, paranoid. He couldn’t tolerate that Darian’s nanotech-lattice—an abomination of nature—gave him enhanced intelligence, or that Darian wanted to share his gift with the world. He was insanely envious and yet at the same time he rejected Darian’s offer to receive the enhancement himself. He rejected the research in its entirety and came to see Darian as a dangerous enemy that had to be eliminated.

  “In Larry’s defense, he had no idea that Darian’s attempt to protect himself would produce the Eater. I don’t imagine even Darian realized what effect his attempts to survive would bring about.”

  “That’s the Eater? But it’s so small,” Stralasi exclaimed.

  This insignificant gray blob depicted in the mandala looked nothing like the solar-system sized monstrosity he and Darak had hunted.

  “In the beginning, it was, yes,” Darak answered.

  “We tried to contain it and slow its growth. That worked for a short while. We were on the verge of moving it into deep space when somebody—I believe that was you, Alum—destroyed the enclosure. With nothing to curb its appetite, the Eater grew rapidly. In less than a few days, it went from the size of a small house to something capable of absorbing several cities. A week later, the entire planet was gone.

  “It was a nightmare come true. Over time, the legends we created in Alum’s Realm changed its name from the Eater to the Da’arkness, a perversion of Darian’s name. They made it out to be even more terrifying than it ever was, originally, I mean. It became the new bogeyman, the infinite blackness of empty, hungry space. It became something to frighten little children and their parents. A tool used to turn people away from science, and research, and anything unknown.”

  “I named the Da’arkness for the horror that it truly was,” Alum answered.

  “And, coincidentally, precisely the right horror to aim at Eso-La?” Darak cou
ntered.

  “What do you mean?” the Living God asked in a manner so convincing that everyone listening in believed Alum sincerely had no idea what Darak was talking about.

  Darak didn’t let the ploy pique his anger.

  “I found the Eater on its new trajectory about a light year away from the ESO colony and closing in. Oh, no need to worry. I found a safe place to send it. Thanks for lending me three of Your element arrays; they came in handy.”

  Alum’s face darkened. “The Eater was an appropriate gift for those rebels. Not that it matters anymore. The universe would not have endured long enough to see it reach Eso-La.”

  “Did You know that Darian Leigh was still inside it?” Darak asked in a casual tone. “Well, more or less inside. I pulled him out and rebuilt him, as much as I could.”

  “You rescued Darian, the high priest of the Da’arkness, himself? Can we surmise that your own assumed name is some perversion of his?” Alum asked.

  “I chose my name to honor my mentor,” Darak said quietly. “Just like Kathy Liang did.”

  Alum flinched.

  “Ah, yes. I see You remember her,” Darak noted. “Kathy Liang used the DAR prefix to identify the Cybrids she constructed from our minds. That was before You killed her, the human her, anyway. Kathy lives on in her Cybrid self. You’ll recognize that name too. It’s Darya.”

  Alum’s eyes widened.

  Darak smiled back, pleased with himself at having surprised the Living God.

  “Ancient history,” Alum sniffed. “It has little meaning or significance today.”

  Darak shadowed Him as He strolled across the boulder.

  “It still reverberates,” Darak said. “But now, it’s not only our history.”

  He waved a hand at Stralasi’s floating Familiar.

  “Now, it’s humanity’s history. The billions of people listening in know our story. How we all came to be who we are. How we got to this point.”

  Alum ignored him. “Tell me, little one,” he said to Mirly, “Where did you find your inspiration for this particular piece?”

  “I..I don’t know, Lord,” the doe-centaur stammered.

  “It came from Me!” Alum cried triumphantly.

  “All things in Heaven flow from its Creator. My Glory shines upon all, bringing life to inanimate clay. My Fires burn at the edge of Heaven, drawing new matter from the endless Chaos that surrounds us. My Thoughts inspire creativity in My children.”

  “Your own thoughts displease You, then?” Darak asked.

  Alum wheeled on him.

  “The thoughts that led to this abomination? Yes, those ones do. They are the result of the imperfections and uncertainty in the outside universe. An uncertainty brought on by its very nature and by your meddling.”

  “I was looking around,” Darak shrugged. “Taking stock of what the Realm has become. Trying to understand why You were so willing to throw our entire universe away—all universes—away.”

  “All but this one, My one truly good Creation.”

  “Why are You willing to sacrifice everything, including all of us, for this version of Heaven?”

  “Are you blind? Can you not see? Heaven is perfection!” Alum roared. He turned to Mirly.

  “Isn’t that right, Mirly? Mirly has seen its almost endless beauty, its pleasing variety, its joyous celebration of the cycle of life without suffering. She has traveled much of this world. Tell Me, child, have you seen suffering anywhere in Heaven?”

  Mirly thought back over her travels across great plains, over rolling hills, through lush forests, and along the shores of lakes, rivers, and streams. Indeed, it was all beautiful, peaceful, loving, and glorious. Even when she’d approached the stark edge of Heaven, she’d found the vast proliferation of microscopic life to be wonderful.

  Except for me, it was all perfect—she realized.

  Mirly hung her head low.

  “I am the only imperfection I saw in all of Heaven, Lord.”

  Alum placed His hand on her shoulder.

  “No, child,” He said. “The imperfection came from outside, through Me. Through My concerns about this unholy rebellion. When the outside is gone, all will return to the way I intended it. Soon, you will be as pure as you once were.”

  “I’d like that.” She smiled hopefully.

  “Or you could leave here,” Darak suggested.

  Leave? The only reason Mirly had wanted to visit outside of Heaven was to combat Alum’s concerns in the outside universe. What reason would she have to leave if those concerns were removed?

  Sensing her doubt, Darak explained.

  “Even if all other possible universes were destroyed, Alum will still carry the memory of our universe. Heaven is a dream. A myth. You think you have perfection but all you have here is stasis and stagnation. Beautiful things may happen here, but interesting things never will. He will never allow it.”

  Darak searched Mirly’s eyes.

  “You’ve tasted what interesting feels like,” he said. “You’ve journeyed well outside of your comfort zone, mentally and physically. You’ve come to understand something of conflict, hardship, and danger. But you also understand adventure, curiosity, and possibility.”

  “I...,” Mirly began.

  She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Would she like to see outside? Did she want more adventure and new things? Or did she yearn for the peaceful certitude of the life she’d once known?

  Darak left her with her thoughts. She had to decide for herself. He turned away and, through Stralasi’s Familiar, addressed the gathered billions.

  “Alum can have His Heaven. It’s a universe He’s created according to His own ideas and, yes, they have a certain beauty. We have no need or desire to deny Heaven its right to exist. But Alum would deny all other possible universes their right to exist, so that His version of Heaven alone can thrive, and no other universes will ever intrude on this one.

  “When I first sensed our universe had stopped expanding, I returned to this universe from the Chaos. I wanted to understand what caused the beginning of the end of possibility.

  “What I discovered was that Alum has gone beyond stopping our universe or any other universes from growing in the Chaos. He has begun the process of reversing Creation. Soon, the laws of nature that hold the stable, real matter of our universe, or of any other universe besides Alum’s so-called Heaven, will become untenable.

  “I say, let Alum have His Heaven, but not at the price of all other possibilities for the rest of eternity.”

  “Judges, Witnesses, People of the Realm, I have given you the knowledge you need to understand this pressing situation and its context, along with the intelligence to evaluate it. Now, I ask you to vote, and let us hope that this man who views Himself as the Living God will heed the guidance of your collective wisdom.”

  “I ask you all now, will you submit to Alum’s vision or will you remain open to unimaginable possibility?”

  After no more than a few tense seconds, the results were complete.

  A little over half voted to keep the universe as it was, not to allow Alum’s vision to become the only one, to allow the multiverse to continue flourishing.

  Darak’s shoulders slumped in relief.

  Even Stralasi chuckled nervously to himself in disbelief.

  Only a tiny fraction of a percent more than half had made the difference. A few thousand votes, at most, had swung the Realm to reject Alum’s offer.

  That’s it? It’s all over?—he wondered.

  Now what?

  Alum’s disdainful laughter shook the boulder on which they stood. Suddenly, all four were back at the Core of Heaven.

  “Puh! Barely a majority,” He said. “Even with all of your influence and meddling with the minds of My People, you could hardly convince half of your ‘judges’ to follow your vision.”

  “Nonetheless, it was a majority,” Darak replied quietly. “After living years under Your all-pervasive rule, more than half of these representatives�
��people who have only just now learned the true history of Your Realm and Your Divine Plan—voted against You.”

  “Voted?” Alum spat. “Did you really think I would listen to your vote? I, who dreamed of Paradise for tens of millions of years, who planned and experimented, whose wisdom exceeds yours as much as yours exceeds that of the smallest insect?

  “Fools! I have given you millions of years of peace and prosperity. Now, I offer Perfection and you would reject it? For what? For adventure?”

  “You know Your idea of perfection puts an end to surprise and unanticipated possibilities,” said Darak. “Even Your own People, those who’ve worshipped You for ages, can see the value in potential for innovation over this perfect, bland sameness.”

  “My Will be done!” Alum shouted.

  He waved a hand and Stralasi’s Familiar shimmered and faded.

  Darak didn’t look away from the Living God, but Stralasi’s Familiar re-solidified.

  “I had hoped You would listen to Your own People,” the man-God said. “But I was prepared for the possibility that You might not.”

  “You will not stop Me,” Alum replied. “All you’ve done is sow discord among My People. Your meddling has been inconsequential. As one might have predicted, most of My flock remain loyal, unconvinced by your plea. The few who voted with you will stand alone against the might of the Realm.”

  Darak shook his head.

  “You still don’t get it, do You? Let me set You straight. We don’t fear Your might,” he said. “And we are not alone.”

  DAR-G’s analysis of the interface shell had been complete for some minutes. He’d acquired the complete physical parameters of Heaven. Darak’s presence in the Core solidified as he merged with the local reality, and brought all four of his physical forms into Heaven. The Angel Gabriel stood on Darak’s right and the Aelu leader, Fal sek Troal, stood on his left. The floating Cybrid form of DAR-G rapidly computed aggressive fields from a spot behind the three.

  “What the…,” Alum gasped. Without completing the question, He shifted several large silicene nodes and the God, Raytansoh, into the Core of Heaven.

  DAR-G cast the first RAF fields, permeating Raytansoh with three incompatible sets of physical laws.