by Garon Whited
I walked into the room and everything came to a stop.
“Well, this is awkward.”
I silently agreed with the thought in my head, mainly because I’m not comfortable with alien thoughts inside my skull. It disturbs me greatly to have something slide right past my mental defense spells. I really need to get on the stick and make a magic item to defend my thinking machinery.
“Mental crap seems to happen with depressing regularity,” it agreed.
“Since you obviously hear me thinking,” I replied, “I’d say it happens with infuriating regularity and makes me want to beat someone into paste. How did you get inside my mental defenses, anyway? Are my spells for it down again?”
“The details are a bit complicated, but your spells are in good shape. Do you want the long version or the short version?”
“Let’s try the short version,” I suggested. “Who are you, anyway? You sound strangely familiar. Have you been in my head before?”
“That’s part of the awkwardness. It’s… hmm. You know how you hate the idea of being regarded as a deity?”
“You mean intensely, wholeheartedly, and unwaveringly?”
“Yep.”
“Then I know what you mean.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about it. You’re not one.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief. Thank you so much for invading my head to tell me.”
“Sarcasm. You’re good at it.”
“Lots of opportunity to practice.”
“I know. Thing is, you were a deity—no, let me back up. You were an energy-state creature capable of faking godlike power in this world. During that period, you, as a god, existed. You absorbed the energy generated by your worshippers, interacted with other energy patterns, all that stuff.”
“But I also escaped from the energy-pattern state and managed to get back to the physical plane of existence.”
“Yes, but you left behind… uh… an imprint? A hollow spot? Neither of those is quite right. The energy plane resonated with your godlike existence for a while, then you stopped doing it. You left behind signs of your presence, and the energy from your worshippers—the water from your fountain—flowed into the footprints you left behind. It didn’t really have anywhere to go until you gave it footprints to fill. Get the idea?”
“I’m going to take a leap of— ha! —faith here. I’m guessing you’re the result? An energy-pattern entity formed by the footprints and energy flow?”
“Right! Good job!”
“Great. So, does that make me the Father and you the Son? Or, since you’re an energy being, the Holy Ghost?”
“Blasphemer,” the thought replied, chuckling.
“Oh, I don’t know if we should go that far. Irreverent heathen, I grant you.”
“You and I both know I’m not a god,” it replied. “I’m an energy-state being existing in a symbiotic relationship with material beings in this world.”
“But, essentially…?”
“Yeah. Essentially. Look, you may not remember this very well, but your consciousness would have disintegrated under the stresses of adapting to this mode of existence. As I understand it—and bear in mind, just because I live here doesn’t mean I understand it completely—”
“I beg your pardon?” I asked.
“Name for me all the components of blood. No? Okay, how about describing the chemical structure of your bones. Still no? Can you define the purpose of the organ just under your heart?”
“I have an organ under my heart?”
“See what I mean? Just because you are something doesn’t mean you understand all the details.”
“Okay… for now. Go on.”
“As I understand it, if you had remained, your existing consciousness would have disintegrated. Eventually, if your worship continued long enough, I would have then formed to fill that niche, as you put it. You accelerated the process by consuming all the accumulated energy of your worshippers; you left deeper footprints. Sort of.”
“But I didn’t disintegrate. I escaped.”
“I prefer to think of it as simply leaving.”
“Whatever.”
“To my knowledge, you’re the only physical being that’s ever turned down the opportunity to be deified. Most of them, if they get this far, are only too glad to achieve a higher, more powerful state. You’re too much of a lazy coward who doesn’t want responsibility.”
“Now hold on just a second!”
“Not diplomatic,” the thought admitted, “not tactful. But we both see ourselves that way.”
“I’m going to let it go,” I stated, “for a number of reasons. Partly because I agree with you, even though I don’t like the way you said it. Partly because you don’t have a face I can punch. And, finally, partly because I seem to be at your mercy, stuck in some sort of temporal stasis.”
“Oh, that. No, I’ve just speeded up your quantum thought processes—no, that’s a bad translation. Consciousness is more than a bunch of electrical pathways in a brain. The part of you not dependent on neurons is currently vibrating at a much faster rate. No, that’s not entirely right, either…”
“I get the idea, at least well enough to get by. I’m thinking at supercomputer speeds, which makes everything else seem so slow as to stand still.”
“Close, but technically—”
“Close enough,” I snapped. “Now what do you want?”
“I wanted to take this opportunity to set your mind at ease about a couple of things. After all, in a weird sort of way, you’re my father. At the same time, I’m also you. My consciousness is patterned after yours, based on the energy-imprint you left behind, but also filled in by the energies directed to this plane by our worshippers.”
“Okay… I guess. You’re the latest so-called deity of this world. You stopped by to say hello and thanks for leaving footprints in the energy sand on the extraplanar beach. Good job. Please don’t be a jerk to your followers and watch out for a particularly evil orb with my dark side in it.”
“Yeah, I saw it. It’s a nasty piece of work, aren’t we?”
“I despise your grammar and acknowledge you’re not wrong. Did you have anything else to say? And why say it now?”
“Why now? Because you finally walked into a concentration of power where I could! Beltar is conducting a power ritual, both as a worship thing—it’s producing a faith-based energy I can use. Although that’s not exactly accurate, either…”
“Look, stop worrying about being exact and just give me the damn gist of things, okay? I was in a good mood and you’ve shot it all to hell.”
“Sorry. Beltar’s charging your gate with the help of a couple hundred faithful. The magical energy is going into the gate and the ritual worship is going into me.”
“See? I got that without the technical explanation.”
“I should have realized you would understand. Sorry again.”
“No problem. It’s still weird to hear a deific entity apologizing, though. Continue.”
“So, here you are in an intense power center. I thought about doing the whole puppet thing, like Sparky does, but I find it somewhat distasteful and disgustingly organic. I also know you would never forgive me for it. The best I could do was bring your consciousness to a higher phase state where we could resonate directly. We’re allowed to do direct communication only under very specific circumstances, you see.”
“No, I don’t, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“Right now, you’re the only one I can talk to! You’re the only actual nightlord in the world. I couldn’t even communicate with you until you walked onto my holy ground—by which I mean an area with a high concentration of power tuned to me. It’s not an actual function of the ground. Now that I’ve got the opportunity to reach you without you invoking me—that is, without you actively attempting to resonate psychically with me—I can tell you I’m here.”
“Great. I can pray to myself and I’ll hear me. Nice. Now we’ve met, nice to me
et you, and can we get to the point? If you’re a psychic copy of my mental patterns, does this mean I’m as distractible and flighty as you are?”
“I deserved that, I suppose,” the thought admitted. “Again, I apologize. The reasons I called… first, I wanted to establish this connection so we could talk again. I also wanted to let you know your stream of consciousness is not responsible for the god-like stuff; that’s my job, as the energy-state version of you.”
“Is ‘hallelujah’ blasphemous or merely irreverent in this context?”
“I think it’s actually appropriate, if you’re using it as a thank-you. While I’m not a god, I’m regarded as one. Hence, saying ‘hallelujah,’ as in ‘praise the Lord,’ isn’t actually the wrong thing to say. Well, unless you’re a monotheist, in which case it’s blasphemous—that whole no-other-gods-before-Me thing. Then again, if you’re saying it in regard to Jehovah, Allah, or Yahweh as an expression of thanks for getting you off the demi-deity hook, it’s probably okay, too.”
“You are definitely patterned after my own thought processes,” I observed.
“Well, duh. I told you that.”
“Are we done?”
“Last thing. I also wanted to warn you that you’re regarded as an avatar.”
“Like, an airbender?”
“No.”
“Giant blue alien?”
“No.”
“Video game icon?”
“That’s actually not completely wrong,” he thought. “I’ll have to consider it. But you know what I mean. You’re just being silly. I mean in the context of a divine manifestation or incarnation on the material plane.”
I explained what I thought about that in some detail.
“I didn’t know I knew that sort of language, or so many words of it. How many languages did you need for so much profanity?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just reached for my feelings and let them out. I’m pretty good with swear words.”
“I agree. All done?”
“For now. I guess you should tell me how being an avatar or incarnation or whatever is going to affect me.”
“Oh, it won’t affect you, really. You’re still a physical being with quasi-demonic powers. On occasion, though, you may notice things happening without your conscious volition.”
“You mean, weirder than normal? No, better question: Weirder than normal for me?”
“Possibly. You and I resonate very closely—it’s kind of like me being Sparky and you being a fire-witch. Stuff is going to happen if you aren’t careful.”
I thought for a moment, reflecting on some unexplained incidents.
“Like, for example, blessing a child? It might actually… you know… work?”
“Very likely.”
“Or, if I’m well and truly angry about something, I might have a weird voice effect?”
“Also possible.”
“How about my shadow doing freaky things when I’m upset?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” the thought replied. It sounded pretty relaxed about everything, but then, it didn’t have to deal with people looking at me funny.
“Is there any way I can control these manifestation things?” I demanded.
“I dunno. I’ve never had an incarnate avatar of my own before. All I’ve had are priests, and they’re not capable of channeling more than a minor flow of power. I can barely manage two words at a time to them without a major ritual, complete with incense, a blood sacrifice, and six hours of chanting.”
“Do you have any good news for me, or did you just stop by to inform me of how my future days are going to be ruined?”
“Um. Well, you’ll be happy to know most of the religions around here won’t bother you. There’s a rule about not smiting each other.”
“I had some conversation with Amber on this subject,” I admitted, “but it’s good to get independent confirmation. I don’t trust Sparky not to lie to her. So, the Church of Light won’t jump me one afternoon and carve me into easily-fried slices?”
“Oh, no; they can do that,” the thought assured me. “Well, they’re allowed to, anyway. Followers are allowed to do whatever they want. The direct action of the power of the sort-of gods won’t be allowed to harm you. At least, on this plane. Other worlds, other gods, other rules. I’d still be careful of people with reversed collars and wooden stakes if I were still you.”
“You are a highly ambivalent comfort,” I grumped.
“Occupational hazard. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled troop movements.”
“Hold on,” I protested.
“What?”
“If you’re one of the not-quite-gods of this world, can you help us out?”
“Boil seas, turn the waters to blood, plagues of locusts, that sort of thing?”
“I’d settle for sinking a few ships,” I admitted.
“Sure. Happy to help.”
“…seriously?”
“Seriously. Sparky gets to incinerate things, doesn’t she?”
“Huh. Good point.”
“I am going to need help, though,” the thought admitted.
“I knew there was a catch.”
“There always is. I can’t simply reach into the material plane and smack things. I need—any of us would need—an agent on the scene. Again, look at Sparky. If Tianna opens up and invites Sparky in, Sparky can work through Tianna, channeling power through her into the material plane. To a lesser extent, any of Sparky’s regular priestesses can do the same thing, but the power flow is barely a trickle. Beltar or any of our other priests can channel energies from me, but not on the scale of major miracles.”
“So, you need to direct energies through me. Maybe Mary.”
“Mary would have to have a stronger connection to me. She would need to be ordained, at the very least. The ritual attunes the priest to the deity, you see. But yes, she could be a very good channel, since she’s also a nightlord—nightlady, I mean.”
“So, you’re telling me I am now your primary divine link to the material world?”
“This one, yes. You want a major miracle, I have to do it through you.”
“Complete with weird eyeball effect and anime-style hair?”
“You know, I don’t know how it would manifest? We’ve never done this before.”
“Thanks anyway, but some things I don’t feel comfortable doing. Nuclear weapons, genocide, and allowing fake gods to take over my body are all on the list.”
“I understand completely. I wish I could be more help.”
“Great. Okay. Well, thanks anyhow.”
“Anytime. And if you need anything on the small scale, just say so. I do weddings, funerals, birthday parties, bachelor parties, and bar mitzvahs. Reasonable rates. Refunds on unused portion with proof of purchase.”
“I’ll bear it in mind. Can I get back to defending a city, now?”
“Lehitraot.”
“Oh, you are so not funny.”
“Yes I am. And you’ll thank god for it, later.”
I continued my interrupted step and wobbled, off-balance. I recovered and worked my way through the prayer-chain crowd to the arch. It seemed as if no time had elapsed. I found it unnerving, especially on top of being greeted by a psychic copy of myself acting like a deity while it knew it wasn’t. And it sounded like me, at least in my head.
If I’ve failed to express this clearly, it’s probably because I still can’t think about it clearly. Well, in any words I can use on a family show, anyway. My language will get me at least an “R” rating even if I summon up the ghost of Linnaeus and have him tone down the more profane parts.
Bob was there, too. I noticed him when he knelt beside the arch and did his hands-across-face thing.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” I observed.
“It is my honor to witness the way in which you are worshipped in this realm, Dread Lord.”
This earned him a dirty look from Beltar and his two assistant priests. The
y didn’t interrupt their ritual chanting and power focusing, though. Bob ignored their scowls.
I set up a new safety feature at the new chalk line. The spell would create a curtain of red light, shining away from the gate. If you saw red when I called a halt, you stopped. If you didn’t see it, you were too close to the gate already, so you kept going. Everyone seemed to understand the explanation and demonstration. I also added a variation on my deflection spell and tied it to the curtain of light.
I don’t know how painful it is to be shredded by a failing gate spell. I don’t want anyone to find out.
On second thought, I take that back. Johann, maybe. Juliet, possibly. None of my guys, though.
We set ourselves up for a deployment. People stretched and jogged in place, loosening up and preparing to sprint.
Beltar and his assistants ceremoniously brought me a chalice of blood. What could I do? I wasn’t going to waste it. I accepted the chalice in both hands and drank it.
Odd. It didn’t try to crawl out. Was it because of some sort of effect due to the ceremonial presentation? Maybe an enchantment on the chalice? Or was it one of those religious things and I should ignore it? Probably that last one…
All the armored men formed up and prepared to charge. Their unarmored counterparts continued to focus on the magical side of things. I checked the target location via mirror and saw a roped-off aisle ready to accept troops. Good. I gave them the countdown and opened the gate. It flushed, swirled, connected, and snapped into place. Feet pounded as the gems drained into the gateway. A whole line of worshippers helped me hold it open.
I’m a lot stronger at night. I have enormous accumulated energies. How much of that is from a friendly spiritual clone is suddenly a very good question, though. Whatever the reason, wherever the energy comes from, between Beltar’s ceremonial prayers, several charged gems, a couple hundred helpers, and my own grim efforts, the gate stayed open long enough for everyone to sprint through.
