by Chris Angus
Ryan spoke softly. “There’s something I haven’t been understanding for a while,” he said.
“Are you kidding?” said Dagursson. “Who the hell understands any of this?”
“What is it?” asked Sam.
“Just this. Why is Laki expending so much energy trying to communicate with us?”
They stared at him blankly.
“Laki has gone out of his way to make Amma an avenue of communication. He even makes sure we understand the ancient Norse she’s speaking. Why? If his only message is that we go away . . . why bother?
“He wants to make damn sure we get it,” said Dagursson.
“Maybe, but he’s put one obstacle after another in our path. If he only wants us to go away, why collapse tunnels, why get us lost? Why not just show us the way out? I mean, he’s shown some of us the way out, eventually. It’s as if there’s some sort of selection process going on. Some are absorbed like Amma. Some just disappear like Akbari, and some are allowed to go away, as he keeps telling us. And anyway, if Laki is everywhere, as Amma said, what good does it do for us to go away? Where is ‘away’ to God?”
“So . . . what?” asked Sam. “You’re saying Laki is lying to us?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Playing with us, maybe. Amma said there was a kind of selection process. One that prefers atheists, if you can believe it. Or perhaps he has another agenda. What strikes me is that Laki seems at least as concerned with what we think as vice-versa. It’s almost as if he gets some sort of perverse pleasure out of our presence. He tells us to go away but doesn’t really mean it. He seems . . . I don’t know quite how to say this so it doesn’t sound ridiculous. He seems . . . interested in us. Conflicted, maybe.”
“You think he’s trying to test us?”
“No. It doesn’t feel that way, somehow. It’s more like he needs control, even if he says he doesn’t. What was it he said? That we were nothing? If we are nothing, why is he spending so much time dealing with us? It would be like us trying to have a deep philosophical discussion with an amoeba. And why would he have preserved the Vikings and all those others as chrysalises if humans are nothing? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“So what’s your answer?” asked Dagursson.
“He’s sort of like the God of the Old Testament,” said Ryan. “You know, the wrathful God who believes in punishment, fire and brimstone and the like. Who seems to exist only in regard to human failings, which, of course, he gave us. The God of the Old Testament always seemed schizophrenic to me. Angry at us for the failings he created. I think Laki may be a little like that . . . petty, self-important . . . a God who wants to control us even when he says he doesn’t. Even though he says we have free will. Even though we are nothing. Laki needs us to . . . ratify . . . his own importance.”
“Whoa,” said Dagursson. “Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? If God is that needy, how can he be God?”
“Good question. But maybe not one you should ask an atheist,” said Ryan. “Up to now, I never believed in a higher being. I’m sure Wormer and his buddies could come up with some convoluted answer to your question.
“Besides, it seems to me that all the gods created by man have been incredibly needy. They want our attention. They demand it. They need it the way little children need the attention of their parents in order to thrive.”
Sam considered him thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’re saying Laki is throwing all this stuff at us, black holes, earthquakes, cosmic rays, holes in space . . . just out of petulance?”
“Amma said he didn’t want us to worship him.” Ryan shook his head in frustration. “The contradictions here are enormous. We’re not supposed to worship him. He wants us to go away. We can’t go away. Who knows where ‘away’ is? We are nothing. So why are we important enough for Laki to devote all this time to us? It’s like the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.”
Dagursson looked utterly perplexed. “All I know is that after staring into that hole in space, at galaxies and expanding universes, it’s hard to bring it all back to the petty, hurt feelings of some schizophrenic deity. He rules over entire universes, multiple universes, if we’re to believe what Laki says, and yet here he is, negotiating with amoebas in a cave on a small planet that is one of billions in a billion galaxies and maybe a billion universes, for all we know.”
“That could be what makes him God,” said Sam. “That he can be involved with details down to that level.”
“I think we need to ask him these questions directly,” Ryan said. “Again.” He looked at the sleeping form of Amma. “I don’t think she’s as connected as she once was, though.”
“Maybe we should talk with one of the other chrysalises,” suggested Sam.
“You think we could?”
“Amma said they were all there in the other room. Who was the one she talked about the most? A fellow named Skari? Maybe we should try to find him.”
***
President Thurman listened with increasing agitation as Prescott Carlisle outlined their challenges.
“Sir,” his science advisor said, “cosmic ray production has spiked in the last hour. Almost off the charts. It must have something to do with the expansion going on in the magma chamber. Something seems to be coming to a head. Have you any further information on activity in the Southern Ocean?”
“Last report,” said Thurman, “was that fifty thousand square miles of ocean have disappeared—gone down the rabbit hole, if you will. Of course, that’s just an estimate. The AWACS has to stay pretty far away to avoid being sucked in. The forces are powerful.”
Carlisle thought hard. “Sir, this is the rankest speculation, but it may be that the disappearing ocean is being absorbed, somehow, by the hole beneath Laki. If there was some sort of portal that opened up allowing the bomb to pass through, it could have created a two-way street, a sort of feedback situation. The expansion we’ve documented in the magma chamber certainly suggests that something is being absorbed there. If so, we could eventually reach a point of critical mass.”
“Meaning what?”
“I’m afraid your guess is as good as mine, Mr. President. All I can say with confidence is that there could be further disturbances in the fabric of space/time that can’t bode well for any of us.”
***
Wormer listened to the plan with growing skepticism. “You’ve already talked to this Amma,” he said. “I don’t see how she particularly enlightened us. By telling us that God prefers atheists? What rational thinker could believe that? Why should any of the other chrysalises be clearer?”
“For one thing,” said Sam, “because Amma as much as told us so. She said Skari was the first to be taken by Laki. Perhaps Skari was the first to be actually punished for worshiping Laki. He’d become a sort of religious figure, a carver of amulets and tokens in honor of the volcano’s god.”
“Maybe Skari was the first human to whom Laki was ambivalent,” said Ryan. “He spent virtually all of his time underground, the first of the Vikings to do so alone. If Laki really does need the attention of humans, it seems likely that Skari was giving it to him, even as he was being punished at the same time for revering their God. Maybe Skari figured out some way to give Laki the attention he craves while not actually worshipping him at the same time. A difficult tightrope to walk, it would appear. Seems to me if anyone can tell us something about Laki, it might be Skari.”
Wormer looked completely frustrated. “Do you have any idea how crazy that all sounds? God isn’t some schizophrenic nutcake. And this volcano isn’t God. I guarantee it. My fellow cardinals and I will remain here and continue to pray.”
Sam shrugged. She and Ryan moved away to where Dagursson was sitting. “Wormer won’t have anything to do with the other chrysalises,” she said.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” said Dagursson. “It’s all about him and prayer. Nothing else matters.”
“I say we just go see what we can find out,” said Ryan.
&nb
sp; “I think I should stay here,” Dagursson said. “I don’t trust Wormer. He may have something up his sleeve. I’m not willing to leave him alone.”
So Sam and Ryan moved out together. They crossed the open cavern and approached the dark space that Amma had said held the rest of her clan. Sam felt a chill run through her entire body as they entered the forbidding chamber. The paranoia she’d felt several times before was nothing compared to the sense of being watched or controlled that overcame her now.
Chrysalises lined the walls, scores of the strange, gluey concoctions. They ranged from full adult size to much smaller versions that might have been those of children. Some appeared much older than others, their cocoons a darker, less transparent color. And they seemed to pulsate in a more regular fashion.
As they moved slowly past the strange figures, their handheld lights cast shadows that gave the entire place an ethereal feeling.
“My God,” Ryan whispered. “What a chamber of horrors. How are we ever going to find Skari amongst this crowd?”
“I don’t know. It seems almost impossible . . . yet . . . you see how much older these cocoons near the entrance look? Like they’ve been here forever? I’d bet Skari must be one of them.” She took a deep breath. “Only way to tell is to pull the covering off of them.”
“What good will that do? We don’t know what Skari looks like.”
“No, but we can ask. I was nearly comatose with fear when I first confronted Amma. About where I am right now, frankly. But she told me her name when I asked. It was almost as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask her. For centuries.”
“Terrific.” He stared at the most ancient looking of the chrysalises. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
He stepped up beside the cocoon that was closest to the entrance, took a deep breath, and pulled the gluey covering down to reveal a frightening death mask of a face. He stepped back involuntarily as the ancient, wrinkled, and gray visage opened its eyes.
“You ask,” he said to Sam. “You’ve had the most experience with this sort of thing.”
She gave him a look. “Right,” she said. “Thanks.” She moved closer to the creature and asked, “Are you Skari?”
The horrible eyes were wide and fixed. They fluttered, then a hollow, echo of a voice, like someone who has had his larynx removed, came from the mouth.
“I am the first of us,” the voice said. “I have not heard my name spoken in a thousand years. I am Skari.”
“Wow. Right the first time,” said Ryan. “What are the odds?”
“Not so bad. He was the closest to the entrance. Makes sense, in a weird sort of way, since he was the first to be placed here.” She hesitated. “Were you brought here by Laki?”
“I am here of my own free will,” said the voice.
“So this is what the exercise of free will gets you,” Ryan said. “Hung on a wall in a gluey mass in a black cave for a thousand years.”
Sam shushed him. “Why did you want to come here?” she asked.
“To be close to him,” said the voice.
“You had a special relationship with Laki,” Sam said. “You created religious offerings in his honor. Is that why he brought you here?”
The face moved slightly, the eyes fluttering back in their sunken sockets. “It was long ago,” said Skari. “I discovered him beneath the Earth.” The ghoulish figure spoke with a sense of pride. “The others of my clan did not know him then. I grew to understand Laki.”
“Tell us, then,” said Sam. “What does Laki want from us? Amma says he wants nothing.”
There was a strange guttural sound, almost resembling a laugh. “Amma knows nothing!” the voice said forcefully. “The others always deferred to her age and to her wisdom. But she is nothing but an old woman. She knows nothing. Only I truly understand Laki.”
“Jesus!” Ryan whispered. “He’s a version of Wormer. Only he knows what God really wants.”
Sam flashed her eyes at him, pleading with him to be quiet.
“I have been part of him for a thousand years,” said the voice. “He brought me here when I asked him to. It was not a punishment. I did not belong in my clan. I was an outcast. Laki understood. He understands being alone. He does not want to be worshiped, but he is tired of being alone. He wants to be a part of us.”
“A part of what?” Ryan asked.
“A part of our lives. He created us. It is his right.”
“Can you ever leave this place?”
“Never.”
“How does that give you free will?”
“I choose to be here,” said the voice.
“Will you tell Laki,” said Sam, “that we want to leave here? That we don’t want to interfere, but he has made it impossible for us. The disruptions here in Iceland and around the world are causing problems for people everywhere. Can you tell him this? Will he understand? Will he help us?”
Again, the eyes rolled back in the figure’s head. “I understand Laki. He is tired of the turmoil humans have brought to him through the ages.”
“He’s brought a fair amount to us as well,” said Ryan. “If he is actually the creator, then we are the way he made us. He’s as much responsible for what we do as we are.”
“Perhaps he is more aware of that,” said the voice, “than he once was. Laki is tired of being alone, but I sense an even greater desire to be done with you. You are not the only experiment he has crafted in the universe. Whether he will help you, I cannot say. The manifestations in the world are a sign of his anger. It is not good that Laki is angry.”
“Amma said that too,” said Sam. “That we didn’t want to make Laki angry.”
Skari’s eyes closed and his head rolled back as though asleep. But then the strange voice spoke one last time.
“Go awaaay.” The words echoed through the black chamber.
They stared at the figure on the wall. It was clear there would be no further communication.
“Do you suppose that means Laki will let us go away?” asked Ryan. “Free us to go on with our meaningless lives? Free the world from the disruptions he has caused? Let us go back to being nothing?”
Sam struggled with the enormity of it all. “What a mass of contradictions,” she said. “He needs us but he’s tired of us.”
Ryan shrugged. “Tough job being a god. I’d probably be a little frustrated with humans as we are in the world too. If Wormer is an example of how we can best relate to God, that might be enough to disillusion any deity.”
***
Dagursson sat on the passage floor and took Amma’s still hand in his own. There was no pulse.
“Is she dead?” Wormer asked.
“I can’t tell. No pulse that I can feel, but who knows if this thing even has a pulse. It may be that separation from her cocoon is depriving her of something she needs to survive.” He looked up at the wall. “Help me lift her back in place,” he said. “Maybe that will help.”
Wormer recoiled. “I will not touch something that is evil,” he said.
One of the other cardinals came over. “I’ll help,” he said simply.
“Don’t be a fool!” said Wormer.
But the man knelt beside Dagursson and together they lifted Amma up and leaned her against the wall beside her chrysalis. At once, the strange tentacles emerged from the gluey mass and began to infiltrate Amma’s body as if embracing her. In just a few moments, the old woman was once again part of Laki. Her eyes opened briefly and Dagursson thought he saw a smile cross her withered face. Then her head slid to one side and she seemed to go to sleep.
If he had once been skeptical that Laki represented some sort of life force, some vitalization, Dagursson no longer had any doubt. It was clear. Proximity to Laki provided at the very least, a boost to the human system. Senator Graham had been right about that, though it was clearly not a tradeoff he’d be willing to make any longer.
Wormer seemed stunned at the sight of Amma’s rebirth, but also angry, as though his fellow cardinal’s participati
on somehow threatened his authority.
“I tell you this thing is a false God,” he said. “Look at what this woman has become. If this isn’t a vision of hell, I don’t know what is. We must go back to the hole in the Earth and pray to the real God for deliverance from this place. The true God will not forsake us. He will listen to us and bring Laki down as all false prophets are brought down in the end.”
The cardinals stood, ready to do his bidding. They’d been placed under Wormer’s leadership by the Pope and would do whatever the pontiff’s emissary directed.
Dagursson considered them uncertainly. He couldn’t stop all of them. Reluctantly, he trudged after them, fearing what would happen once they reached the hole. Would they try to throw themselves in as Wormer had attempted the first time? Was Wormer’s desire to return the result of some irresistible call from the depths?
The wind grew stronger as they moved down the passageway and then, suddenly, it died away as they approached the opening in the Earth. For the first time they were able to stand beside the hole and stare in without the force of the gale in their faces.
Dagursson thought Wormer looked shaky. The cardinal leaned against the stone wall and raised his arms like some latter-day Elmer Gantry. “You are a false God,” he cried. “I denounce you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost.”
The other cardinals appeared to absorb some of Wormer’s open anxiety. They began to chant and sway for all they were worth, raw fear etched on their faces.
“If you are God, send us a sign,” said Wormer. “Or else, be gone, back to Satan’s lair.”
His fellow cardinals were looking around with wide eyes, expecting the wrath of . . . something . . . to descend upon them at any moment.
Dagursson edged closer to the stone wall in case he had to grab any of them should they feel compelled to climb in. He peered down and saw that the strange swirl of galaxies and stars was gone. In its place, far away, was what appeared to be water swirling and rising.
“Look,” he said. “Something’s happened. Maybe it’s the sign you asked for.”
But Wormer and the others were too far gone in their fear and mysticism to respond. Perhaps their denunciations had made Laki mad. Dagursson leaned over the wall and stared down, not believing what he was seeing. Where there had been stars there was now nothing but a tumult of water bubbling upward. He felt movement next to him, but he was drawn to the vision below and had trouble pulling himself back.
