by Brian Blose
“A few years later, Damien stopped by to introduce himself. He was a true gentleman and explained that he had knowledge of our identities and the ability to open the sky at a time he felt appropriate. So naturally, the twelve of us eventually met up for a week of stimulating conversation and mutual encouragement.
“Ours was a good group. We lasted seventeen Experiments. Then Damien got us all together, as he was wont to do. But this time, he conducted a vote. One by one my friends elected to cease their existence. I . . . I remained silent until Damien begged me for a response. To them, I said that I did not wish my life to be over, but that I would cast my vote in solidarity with them.”
Natalia's lips compressed to a line. “I was saved from my bitterness by Koji. Always the most distant of my friends, Koji took me in his arms and told me that I would live to see another Experiment. As many as I wanted. He told me that there are two Observers in every batch who serve a special function. One opens the sky and serves as a check on the others. The second carries the memory of every Observer who ever existed and even the thoughts of the Creator who ceases to be at the genesis of every universe.
“For the First Experiment had not been the first. There was a Cycle before my series of Experiments, which Koji had survived. He surrendered his special position to me so that I could live on while he became no more than a series of memories.
“And so one Cycle ended and another began. All my friends died and were replaced by brutal creatures forged in a primitive dystopia. You each bear the indelible stamp of your origin. To be blunt, your feral natures disgust me. You may make fascinating studies, but none of you meet my minimum criteria for friendship. I avoided you and did my best to make certain none of you had reason to seek me out in turn.”
Natalia sighed. “Truthfully, I have done very little observing this Cycle. You see, I carry all of these memories in me. If my entire life experience could be represented as a single drop of water, then there is an entire ocean available for me to relive. It is impossible to navigate. I can live an entire day of another Observer's life, then never manage to find a single bit of that individual again. It is a jumble, an ocean frenzied by a hurricane.
“For as long as any of you have been alive, I have been sipping from eternity. I have tried with limited success to seek out particular types of memories. Never have I found any of Yezzen, but I have some success picking out happy ones, or exciting ones, or any type of mood I prefer in the moment. And there are other memories I can identify. Memories too incomprehensibly vast for a mere Observer to ever have had.
“Within me lives the memories of the Creator, a fact which segues right into my magic trick. As you could imagine, the Creator remembers the details of creating. And some portion of those details can be understood by the likes of us.” She sat up straight. “Now give me your full attention. I likely will not be able to repeat this trick in the limited time available to us.”
A smug smile on her face, Natalia's frail old-woman form flickered into that of a chubby middle-aged man with a patchy beard. She, now a he, pointed a finger at Griff. “For the record, not a single syllable was false, you uncivilized cretin.”
Erik jumped to his feet and leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the table. “Excellent trick. Now, let's talk about you giving me your job.”
Natalia studied his new body. “I never know what I'm going to become when I do that. This ability does not come with a preview option.”
“I want,” Erik said, “to live next Iteration, next Cycle, next Experiment, whatever the fuck you want to call it.”
“Slight problem with your request.” Natalia scratched at his semi-bearded face. “I nominated Jerome already.”
Erik decked the table hard, a thud wrapped around a brittle snap. His face contorted as he turned his attention to Jerome. “Twelve. I will . . . fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Face red, eyes bulging, spittle flying, Erik brandished his shattered hand.
“Of course,” Natalia said in a contemplative tone, as if speaking to himself, “that was a deal struck in a different universe. Given our extenuating circumstances, I am willing to reconsider my choice.”
Erik's insane eyes fixed on Natalia. “That's right, tubby.”
“None of that,” Natalia snapped. “You have no power over me, Erik. If you engage in your trademark shenanigans, Jerome opens the sky and you lose. I make the rules, Erik, and you follow them with unfailing obedience if you have any hope whatsoever of continuing your twisted existence. I am in charge. You understand?”
“...yes.”
“Fantastic. Hess, are you also interested in the opportunity to become my successor?”
Hess shot a glance to Elza, who stared at her lap impassively. “I am.”
“Very well,” Natalia said. “After the meeting, I will journey with Jerome, Erik, and Hess to discuss who gets to see the next Cycle. For the moment, however, we are participating in an unprecedented conference. I took this opportunity for my grand reveal, but I would be remiss if I didn't present my findings for the group's contemplation.”
Natalia scratched at his protruding abdomen. “By virtue of the memories I carry within me, I can tell you that there has been a remarkable diversity among our kind. Sinners, saints, and everything in between. As near as I can tell, the early Experiments of every Cycle tend toward mono-cultural. I imagine that phenomena to function as a mold for each generation of Observers. We are cast in specific circumstances, then exposed to a variety of worlds.
“Based on these insights, I long ago concluded that the ultimate goal of our inscrutable employer must be to manufacture every consistent world from the infinite sea of possibility. Before we travel too far down the path presented by my data, I want to elucidate what I am not saying. Under no circumstances do I believe the Creator is bored. Nor would I claim that diversity per se is the goal.
“What I believe is that the entity we serve creates with a passion beyond mere obsession. With the utmost sincerity, I confess my suspicion that the Creator does not conform to our concept of sanity. While a post-vote conference is something I never encountered in my other memories, I have witnessed many erratic worlds like the previous Experiment. On occasion, the Creator . . . malfunctions. As if two potential worlds were merged into an inconsistent jumble.”
Natalia smiled. “Having unveiled my great secret and spoken blasphemy, you might expect my contributions to be complete. However, I have yet to pass judgment on existence itself, so bear with me a moment or two longer.
“I am, to put it mildly, an unabashed fan of creation. My esteem for particular worlds varies to a great extent, but I find the overall experience to be downright amazing. If the twelve of us spent a thousand years at this table, we would get no closer to the truth than we are at this moment. Words are utterly inadequate to express the richness of reality. Our minds are insufficient to grasp the vastness of existence. We have each strained to the utmost to grasp even a single drop of water and the vastness of the ocean is forever beyond us.”
Natalia looked around the room, meeting eyes. “To be blunt, I'm not interested in a passive-aggressive Q and A. I move to adjourn our conference. Anyone who feels a pressing need to discuss my revelations can do so without me. Hess and Erik, please be sure to include myself and Jerome in your plans to escape the island.” He leaned forward. “Would someone like to second my motion?”
Greg cleared his throat. “Seconded.”
“Thank you, Greg. All in favor?”
A scattering of hands rose.
“All opposed?”
Silence.
“Then the motion is carried. Conference adjourned. Everyone try to enjoy the rest of your lives.”
Chapter 34 – Hess
Observers no more, their final duty to the Creator discharged, they dispersed in a hush of chair scrapes, footfalls, and door clicks. Hess avoided eye contact with all of them. The profound purpose that bound them had vanished, taking with it whatever comradery existed in their sad group.
Hess shrugged. “It's always been that way with us.”
“Sorry I didn't tell you about the deal Natalia made with me.”
“I would have kept it from you if our situations were reversed.” He pulled his arm free.
Jerome stepped in front of him. “So I'm not even allowed to touch you now that I'm a man? Nothing has changed about me. I didn't try to seduce you last world, so why distrust me this one?”
“Don't take it personal, Jerome. He's never been affectionate with men.”
Jerome startled at Elza's words, then stepped back. “I'll go on ahead of you.”
The two of them spent a few moments not looking at each other. Elza broke the silence first. “I wanted to wish you luck. I hope Natalia picks you and that you have a fulfilling life in the next Cycle. You deserve it, Hess.”
He studied the floor between them. “I appreciate that. I'm glad you're getting what you want. Well, no, not glad. Horrible word choice. Let's just say I will be comforted knowing that you are no longer unhappy.”
She spoke again, her voice soft. “Then goodbye.”
He took a breath. “I really wish you were saying the other thing.”
“Then one last time, for the sake of tradition.” Her voice was thick almost to the point of incoherence. “Find me fast, Hess.” And she left.
He collected the stolen items from his room and carried them in a sling made from linens. In the stables, he encountered the corpse of the stable boy when he attempted to hire a horse. He saddled an animal himself and trotted it through town, one hand on the reigns and the other cradling the glassware hanging from his neck.
The few townies he saw were more interested in staring at the smoking mountain than a man on a horse. He kept to a walk for fear of shattering his homemade still. When he arrived at the harbor, the others were waiting for him in an overloaded freight wagon. Hess handed up his cargo and took the buggy whip from Jerome's hand.
He locked eyes with Erik. “Be ready with your saber. I'll take out one of the guards.”
“With a whip?”
“I've never seen someone keep fighting after losing an eye.”
Erik giggled. “Give me ten minutes to get in place.” He jogged away with one hand steadying his scabbard.
Natalia frowned at him. “Do you do this type of thing often?”
“That depends on your definition of often.” Hess uncoiled the whip and snapped it a couple of times to get a feel for it.
“Interesting. I look forward to the show.”
Ten minutes later he drew reign before two guards standing at the pier's entrance, one of whom held a rifle at the front chest carry position. The senior guard twirled his finger in the air. “Get your ass out of here.”
Hess pointed back towards the town. “Someone's been hurt. Real bad. They told me to let the guard on duty at the pier know so he can pay his last respects.” He slapped his forehead. “I can't remember the name of the man I'm supposed to find.”
The senior guard hesitated, then his gaze hardened. “This is private property. Ernie, put a hole in him if he ain't gone in sixty seconds.”
As Ernie snapped his weapon into position, Hess threw his whip hand into the air and snapped his wrist. The musket's sights aligned, creating a direct path from the guard's eye to the rear sight post to the front sight post to Hess's chest. The tip of the whip intersected that direct path at its far end, connecting with the squinting eye.
The guard screamed, jerked, and discharged his weapon into the air. The senior guard ran to the guard shack. As he yanked open the door, light glinted off a slashing saber. The man tumbled back, hands hugging his chest even as he hit the ground. Erik emerged from behind the guard shack and drove his blade absentmindedly into the throat of the man.
“Nice whip work, Hessie.” Erik drove his blade down into Ernie's chest. “Reminds me of that time I sliced your eyes out two Iterations ago. Good times.”
Hess waved both hands over his head to summon Jerome and Natalia, then inspected the pier. It was possibly wide enough for the freight wagon, but they would never be able to get it turned around. “I don't suppose you brought the travois with you,” he said.
“Of course, ya horse. I'm a fucking pro at this shit.”
Jerome and Hess rapidly unloaded the wagon. Rocket fuel came off first, then sacks of maize kernels, then wood. Meanwhile, Erik attached travois and horses. When they moved the first load from the base of the pier to the steamship, Hess pointed to the wagon. “Someone needs to get another load. I'll warm up the firebox and pump water into the boiler. Whoever is left can haul fuel up the pier. Make sure none of the locals gets too curious about our activities.”
Erik jabbed a finger at Jerome. “You heard him, Twelve, go reload the wagon. Me and Natalia have the pier under control.”
Their voices faded as Hess climbed into the heart of the vessel. He turned at the sound of footsteps behind and found Natalia following him.
“Are you sure this thing is seaworthy?”
“It's designed to tow ships in crowded harbors,” Hess said. “I'm guessing the locals use it to rescue and salvage ships that get torn up on the reef. It should be able to handle deep ocean with no problems. The real question is how far it can take us before we run out of fuel. Which is why you should be hauling wood.”
Natalia waved at his obese form. “I could haul more wood as an old woman than I can like this.”
“Fine. You're running the hand pump.”
“You know, I have the power of life and death over you,” Natalia said.
“I'll be sure to kiss your ass once the crisis is over.” Hess checked that the rubber tube reached all the way to water, then demonstrated its operation: Lever up, lever down.
While Natalia labored at the pump, Hess threw open the door to the firebox and loaded it with some coal. On top of that, he built a structure from wood kindling and lit it with scrap paper and a magnesium striker.
Then Hess began moving wood from the deck of the ship into the coal room. After a while, he checked the water level using the three valve system. They were still low, so he kicked Natalia off the pump and labored at it himself, taking occasional breaks to feed more coal into the firebox.
Getting up to steam would take two hours, which was twice as fast he would try if there wasn't a volcano to worry about. Cold boilers tended to react poorly to rapid increases in temperature.
When Hess next checked the water, it was at an acceptable level. He resumed loading wood into the coal room. Outside, Jerome had returned with the freight wagon and was helping Erik move wood. When they finished, everyone climbed onto the deck of the ship.
Erik glanced back at the mountain. “We ready to go?”
“Let's give it another half hour,” Hess said.
“Look Hess, I know it would be cool as fuck to outrace a tidal wave of lava in a steamship . . . but I'd rather not.”
Hess raised a brow. “Spoken like someone who has never seen a boiler explosion.” He turned to Jerome. “When are you opening the sky?”
Jerome glanced to the mountain. “I'm letting the Creator dictate the time-line.”
They studied the smoke until Natalia broke the silence. “We might as well use the time. I plan to decide my choice of successor by plumbing the depths of your minds to discover your underlying motives. Rest assured that I don't intend to judge you by my personal standards of conduct, which would favor none of you, but instead by your commitment to the truth.”
Natalia scratched his bulging abdomen. “Dishonesty and disqualification walk hand in hand. I'm not keen on laziness, either. Each of you should do your utmost to offer sincere reflections. Erik, I'm going to start with you. You have the advantage and disadvantage of being the most disgustingly fascinating subject. My first question: why do you
enjoy hurting the people?”
“I'm doing research.”
Natalia made a rude buzzing noise. “Sincere answers, Erik. Only honesty can preserve your life.”
The false cheer faded from Erik's face, allowing something cold and reptilian to emerge like jagged rocks rising from the sea at low tide. “Because,” he said. “I hate them.”
“Why do you hate the people, Erik?”
“They don't appreciate existence.”
Natalia shook his head. “Not justifications, Erik, reasons. You value your life more than anyone, so prove it. Give me your reasons.”
Erik cleared his throat. “Can't we do this in private?”
“No.”
Erik's face contorted into a pained expression. “Why do I hate the people? Why do I hate the people? Why do I hate the pathetic creatures? Why wouldn't I hate them? They are weak and soft and stupid and cowardly. They are fucking pathetic. They deserve everything I have ever done to them. Every fucking poke. Every fucking prod.”
“Why do you hate the people, Erik?”
Erik turned his glare on Natalia. “I just told you. They are pathetic!”
“A reason to pity, perhaps. Why do you hate them?”
Erik's lips clamped together.
“Come now, Erik, you don't value your ego over your life. Would you not do anything to ensure your survival? Tell me the truth. Why do you hate the people?”
“Because.” Erik turned away from them. “Because I once feared those pathetic creatures.”
Natalia patted flabby hands together in subdued applause. “Well done, Erik. I'm quite pleased with your progress. Now, Jerome, I have a different question for you. Namely, why should I choose you?”
Jerome frowned. “What do you mean?”
“My meaning should be quite evident, Jerome.”
“Well, for one, I'm not a sociopath. Also, I'm not going to waste the next Cycle pining for a lost love – sorry, Hess.”
