by Alex Raizman
He sighed as she opened the door, rushing a bit to follow her. “Yeah, yeah. Roll with it.”
“Good lad.” They stepped out the door. The world outside...well, an initial glance made it clear this wasn’t Earth, and it wasn’t the blasted wasteland and stained-glass sky of Cipher Nullity. First of all, they were in a building - a building so large, the ceiling had clouds. Lining his vision were rows and rows of shelves that stretched so far he couldn’t see the end of them. On those shelves were books, and between them walked people. Men and women, all of them wearing suits. Sometimes they climbed ladders that stretched impossibly high, sometimes they walked along the shelves hand over hand or crossed bridges that had been built between them. Filing cabinets floated among them.
Ryan stared at it, knowing his mouth was hanging open but unable to care. After Cypher Nullity, you’d think I’d be out of wonder. He wasn’t, though. Part of it was in one key difference - this place was alive. The suited denizens of this realm were bustling about in a controlled whirlwind of paperwork in this impossibly large office. Ryan wondered how far it stretched. Was it actual miles? Was it the size of a country, a continent, a planet? Had he stumbled into the heaven of bureaucrats, where souls that had spent their entire lives fighting the madness of systems with weaponized TPS forms got their eternal reward?
As he watched, a woman in a suit strode by, a file tucked under her arm. She reached one of the floating filing cabinets and snapped at it. Like a well-trained dog getting a command from its favorite human, it whirled to face her and floated down to the ground, and Ryan half expected it to start quivering eagerly for her command. Instead, she opened it and put a file in one of the drawers. Then she gave it a quick pat on the top and said, “Records of the Last Era of Gillespie-B,” and the cabinet took off.
It was wonderful, but in a dry, mechanical way. A paradise of numbers and forms and efficiency. Part of Ryan found it immensely comforting.
“Welcome,” said Crystal, “to the place where the universe makes its red tape. Try not to look too hard, love - I think it would give you a bloody terrible headache and probably cause another faint, and we’re on the clock, yeah?”
He didn’t answer directly, just followed her as she walked towards a door in the side of one of the shelves. Before they could open it, a man in a suit stepped out.
Ryan looked at him a second time, and his eyes widened. It wasn’t just any man in a suit. It was his man in a suit, his constant companion for most of his life.
“Ryan,” the man said, his voice still hoarse, “and Crystal. I don’t suppose you’re here to catch up on old times.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Ryan clenched his fists near his pockets. Catch up on old times? You mean the last thirty years of my life? You mean you watching me every day? The urge rose like bile to reach out and throttle this man, to kick him as hard as he had Enki at the gas station. He didn’t want to use his powers on this man, he wanted to beat him with his bare hands. He also wanted to ask him how he’d been, reach out and give him a...well, not a hug, but a manly handshake. It was a confusing torrent of emotions and Ryan did his best to squash them. “We need help,” he managed to growl as he glanced sideways at Crystal. Those three words had been for the man in the suit, but they were also a reminder to Ryan why they were here. Crystal gave him a slight nod of approval and Ryan continued. “Your help, apparently. We need to contact the other gods before-”
“Not out here,” Crystal interrupted, and the man in the suit nodded.
“Agreed. Call me Nabu, Ryan. And please, step into my office.”
Trying not to think too hard about how good it was to see the man in the suit again, trying to push back his desire to smack the sense out of his lifelong antagonist, and desperately trying to not let it show how good it was to finally have a name for him, Ryan followed the other two inside
The man in the suit - Nabu, Ryan reminded himself - sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. Ryan took a moment to gape around the office.
He wasn't sure what he expected in the office of the man who had followed him his entire life, but if pressed, he wouldn't have expected the answer to be "a giant, unholy mess." Nabu had always seemed so neat, so tidy, so put together. Ryan was almost offended at how messy the office was. Nabu was an omniscient presence that had hovered in Ryan’s life for thirty years. Where the hell does he get off having a messy office? But that's what he had - a desk covered with papers, a haphazard look to the placement of every object, a dead houseplant in the corner - and along one walls, hundreds upon hundreds of notebooks, stacked so high they almost brushed against the ceiling.
Ryan felt his heart stop as he stared at them, because he recognized those notebooks.
Nabu followed his gaze as Crystal took her chair. "Yes. Every moment of your life is recorded in those."
Ryan walked over, then glanced back at Nabu, who gave him a wave of the hand.
Feeling unaccountably nervous, like a student called to principal’s office after breaking so many rules he couldn't be sure what he had been caught doing, he pulled off one of the top notebooks.
Day 3578
Subject has become aware of my presence as something abnormal and begun avoiding speaking of me, and for thirty-three days now has ceased all attempts to communicate. I do think he is more than just a finder. Perhaps he has some divine blood in his ancestry, although I can't imagine how Home Office would have missed that.
He's awake and brushing his teeth. He's glancing towards the shower as he does so, again, and I think subject has become uncomfortable with the idea of being seen unclothed. This will be the third day he elects not to bathe if he chooses that path, and I think there is a real risk he will gain a reputation for uncleanliness. I should give him space, perhaps, but-
Ryan closed the notebook, his cheeks burning. He remembered that, and remembered a couple years of being the weird smelly kid. It had been humiliating, one of the worst periods of Ryan's childhood, and he'd eventually overcome his aversion to showering with Nabu there, but still…
"Not a pleasant trip down memory lane?" Nabu did sound like he was honestly wasn’t sure, like he wanted a serious answer, like he hadn't been there and caused it.
We need his help, Ryan, he reminded himself. Like the lady says: roll with it. "No, it wasn’t, and you damn well know it,” Ryan snapped. So much for rolling with it.
“Ryan,” Crystal said, a warning note in her voice, but Ryan barely registered it. “I dealt with this too. Believe me, love, I know what having a Curator follow you can be like. But you have to-” Ryan cut her off.
“You were there, you bastard. Every second of it, you were there. You were watching, and waiting, and writing down every single thing I ever did. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Knowing your every moment is being watched, knowing your every deed is being recorded?” Ryan leaned on the desk, his face as close to Nabu’s as it would get. “No, you don’t. You were the one doing the watching, doing the recording. I thought I was crazy! Do you remember the therapy sessions? You should, you were there for them. Do you remember the therapists that thought I was faking because it didn’t fit into any known diagnosis? Or how much money I burned through on MRI’s? The side effects of the drugs I tried because I just wanted you to go away? Did you ever care what you were doing to me?”
Nabu waited to see if Ryan was finished before speaking. “Yes, I did. And I know I can never give that back to you. I owe you an immense debt and will do what I can to repay it.” His eyes locked with Ryan’s, and Ryan couldn’t find a single trace of a lie in them.
Ryan slumped back into the chair, his energy spent. He still wanted to throttle Nabu, but he also didn’t. It wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t fix anything. Getting it off his chest didn’t even make him feel better, just like he was yelling at a brick wall that had kept him from going where he’d wanted. The wall had been there, and yelling at it wasn’t going to get it to move.
Crystal put a hand on his shoulder and spoke up, “Nabu, we need to file a request for a mass message to every god or goddess the Curators have locations for.”
He nodded. “Two mass messages in a single day, virtually unheard of these days.”
“What?” said Ryan, hearing his voice spike with panic. “Who else did?”
“Oh dear, I shouldn’t have said that. Terribly sorry.” Nabu’s tone did not match his words – he didn’t sound apologetic, but like he was simply informing Ryan and Crystal of the weather. He glanced at Crystal. “Have you told him it is expressly forbidden for a Curator to interfere with the Eschaton or those who would oppose the End Cycle?”
She shrugged. “I would gotten around to it, yeah? He knows now.” She caught Ryan’s look. “Don’t panic that we don’t know who it is, love. It was Enki, it had to be. No one else has reason to right now.”
A moment passed as Ryan waited for Crystal to elaborate. When she didn’t, he asked, “What do you mean? Why isn’t that reason to panic?”
“Oh, it is. It absolutely is. But now there’s no reason to panic over the fact that it might be Enki, yeah? If you’re going to panic, might as well have good reason to.”
Both Nabu and Crystal watched as Ryan took a deep breath. “Okay. So Nabu, can we do our own message?”
“Of course. But…do either of you have the paperwork done?” Ryan looked at Crystal, who shook her head. Nabu sighed. “When the last individual who sent a message came, he had the forms pre-filled out. In triplicate. You’ll need to do so as well.” He motioned. A monstrous stack of paper appeared in front of Ryan. Another one appeared in front of Crystal.
Ryan gulped. “Well…at least we have the triplicate part covered.”
Nabu raised an eyebrow. “Ryan…what do you mean?”
“Well, that stack’s so big, it’s got to have three copies of the forms already in there, right?” Nabu looked at him blankly as Crystal rummaged around for a pen. “I mean…that can’t all be one copy.” Nabu looked at Crystal, who was still looking for something to write with, then back at Ryan. “Nabu? Am I right?”
Nabu shook his head mournfully. “I suggest you get started.”
Ryan had to fight back the urge to scream. “Do you have pens we could borrow?”
Nabu handed them each a pen, as well as a “Temporary Pen Reallocation Form – 17B” to fill out.
In triplicate.
◆◆◆
The good news was that, free of mortal Hungers, neither Ryan nor Crystal needed to take a break to eat or sleep or even have a drink. That didn’t make the endless paperwork any less mind numbing – “Permission to Speak for Divine Personage 3240-G,” “Request for Messenger 9354-X-84I,” “Nature of Message 8-23-TY,” “Text of Message 666-Sigma-D,” and so on and so forth, every possible layer of what they were going to do.
They did get a break when they paused to discuss the message. They kept it short, which would end up sparing them much of the paperwork – “End times beginning. Trying to save humanity. Eschaton found. Contact Ishtar if willing to help.” About as subtle as a boot to the nose, but it got the essential points across. Like a tweet with divine tags.
The whole process took them about six hours. Six long, tedious hours. By the end, Ryan was almost wishing mortal hungers had interrupted them a few times to make the process less boring. It was like watching paint dry during Chinese water torture while elevator music played.
“All done?”
Ryan nodded, looking despondent. “I guess we’ll need to do that two more times?”
Nabu looked at them without saying a word, and the stacks jumped in height. Ryan leapt back with a start as they did, as if the stacks of paperwork were a beast that would bore him to death if he wasn’t careful.
“As far as I can tell, you did.” Nabu smiled.
“Wait, what?” Crystal was the one to object this time, and Ryan felt a great thrill at seeing her baffled for once, while also hoping that she wouldn’t somehow talk them into more paperwork. “Not that I mind, I bloody well don’t, but isn’t this a neutrality violation?”
“But teacher, didn’t we have homework?” Ryan muttered, and Crystal gave him an annoyed flap of her hand to silence him.
Nabu faintly shook his head. “I spent thirty years ruining a young man’s life, Ms. Crystal. The Eschaton is, no offense, a semi neurotic wreck because of me.”
Crystal frowned. “That’s never bothered you lot before, Nabu. That’s usually how this goes. Are you trying to tell me, love, that this is something you’d do for anyone if they’d just asked? Or is Ryan special somehow?”
Nabu’s head shake was more emphatic this time. “I’ve watched hundreds like you before,” he said, indicating Ryan, “and I’ve seen what we do to you. We like to complain about how distant gods are from mortals, here in this office, but we ignore the fact that we’re destroying your mortal years. It means so many gods enter their godhood with minimal connections. It means so often we end up with Eschatons unprepared to deal with the immense burden placed upon them. I’ve decided that, as far as I interpret it, is a violation of my neutrality.” He turned his focus back to Crystal. “Doing this is a small way to redress the imbalance, wouldn’t you agree?”
Ryan could practically hear the gears turning in her head. “I would…” said Crystal, glancing at Ryan, “But I think it would be best for the Eschaton to decide, as the wronged party.”
Nabu made a show of widening his eyes, and Ryan realized that once again, Crystal knew what was going on and he was the baffled one. “That is an excellent point, Ms. Crystal. Ryan, would you consider my debt to you discharged?”
“Um, I mean-“ he saw Crystal out of the corner of her eyes, drawing a sideways hand across her throat and shaking her head with such exaggerated gestures that Ryan was afraid she’d pull something. “No?”
“Oh dear.” Nabu smiled slightly. “Then please, when you think of something that could be done to eliminate that debt – or wish to transfer the debt to another,” and those words were said with exaggerated weight, glancing at Crystal as he did so, “then please, let me know.”
“Weeeeell…” Ryan drew it out, thinking carefully to make sure he was following the dance. He glanced at Crystal, who was nodding and pointing at herself with the same exaggeration as earlier, “I suppose I can let you know…that I wish,” another encouraging nod from Crystal. “To transfer the debt to Crystal?”
“Ah.” They both relaxed some. “Very well. Then, Ms. Crystal, how may I pay this debt?”
Crystal grinned, leaning forward. “I need the exact message Enki sent out, and to know which gods if any responded in the affirmative.”
Nabu went over to one of the piles and pulled out a paper. He handed it over, and Ryan leaned over Crystal’s shoulder to read.
Fellow Beings of Higher Power,
An Eschaton has awoken. This Eschaton is being guided by Ishtar – and she, when she was Eschaton, slaughtered every single other deity before destroying the world in sea and flame. If you wish to save humanity, we must put aside old grudges and make common cause.
-Enki.
Crystal swore in several languages, and Ryan gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “C’mon, Crystal. Roll with it.”
She glared at him, and Ryan gave her an impish grin before continuing. “Seriously though, c’mon, right? That’s the most obvious manipulation ever attempted, even I caught it. So any god who falls for it we probably didn’t want on our side anyway, right?”
She looked at him for a long moment, then started laughing. “Too bloody right. I’m rubbing off on you. Alright. Any response yet, Nabu?”
He shook his head. “But to satisfy my debt, I will inform you if there are any.”
“You’re a peach. We should be going.” She motioned for Ryan to get up, and he followed. “Been lovely Nabu, really has been. Ciao!”
With that, they left. Ryan had so many questions to ask Nabu, but right now, he was legitimately glad to
be on his way. On the one hand, getting a chance to really talk to Nabu, getting a chance to sit across from him like that was nice. It also felt wrong, like...his name’s Nabu? He talks? He has opinions, feelings? It had in some ways been easier when Nabu had still been the man in the suit, this silent presence in Ryan’s life. Sitting in an office with him humanized Nabu, and Ryan didn’t know when he’d be able to endure something that made Nabu seem more human. “So we wait for responses. What do we do until we start hearing from people?”
Crystal smiled. “Well, we stay away from Earth, that’s for bloody sure. Unless you want round two with Enki?”
Ryan groaned at the thought. “No, I’m good.”
“Thought so.” She grinned. “Well, then, how about we do some more training, but let’s try somewhere different.” She headed to the door they had opened earlier, and motioned for him to come through. “I hear Mars is lovely this time of year, yeah?”
It took Ryan just a bit to process what she said, but once he did he all but bowled her over in an attempt to rush them both into the staging area. “Oh, yes please.”
She smiled and went over to the control panel. “Then setting course for the red planet. Let’s see how you do with that.”
Throwing a lightning bolt for the first time had been the most incredible feeling, but Cipher Nullity had been almost too alien, and Officium Mundi had been too bureaucratic. To set foot on Mars…that was real, that might make it all worth it.
“Yeah, let’s…let’s go.”
And once again the planetarium ship moved without momentum through reality.
Chapter 7
The Rain of Mars
The door appeared, and Ryan glanced at Crystal. “Wait. Every other time we’ve gone somewhere, we’ve appeared in the door of some other structure. What are we about to walk out of on Mars? Don’t we need a door?”
Crystal shrugged, changing her shoes to work boots as she did. “Two things. First of all, no, we don’t. We can just make one out of thin air. But I like using an actual existing door - it’s a bit less bending of reality, and I just like the drama of walking out of an actual doorway as opposed to a magical door in the air, yeah?”
