Strange Cosmology

by Alex Raizman

  Crystal straightened and braced herself. She extended her hand again, ignoring the way the tips of her fingers trembled.

  Change, she thought, giving words to her will.

  The nausea hit her again, but she was ready for it this time. It still caused her stomach to churn, and she could still feel stomach acid burning in her throat. No. No, no, no. You are stronger than this. You are the bloody master of this universe. The star still shone with that disgusting purple light. Her outstretched hand was shaking so violently, she could feel it in her back. You are not going to resist me, Crystal thought. Another retch tried to escape her throat, and she fought it down, clenching her jaw so hard she could hear her teeth strain under the pressure. You. Will. Change!

  The star shimmered and, with reluctant slowness, began to change. Crystal felt a surge of triumph and pushed even harder. It might take her thousands of years local time to fix every star, but that would be only days in the real world. Whatever was wrong with her nanoverse was correctible! It would just be a minor inconvenience.

  The last bit of purple faded from the star, and Crystal let go of her will with a fierce smile.

  Before her eyes, the star popped back to the purple color. “No!” Crystal screamed in the vacuum. It shouldn’t be possible.

  But it was. It had happened. Somehow, her nanoverse was resisting her will.

  Crystal teleported back to her staging area and lost the battle against her stomach. Unable to stop herself anymore, she threw up.

  It took her a few minutes to finish shaking. What had just happened was beyond impossible. There’s that damn word again. She took refuge in the only thing she could find. Something within her power, something that didn’t have anything to do with the corruption eating at her nanoverse - something that she was confident she could accomplish.

  “Set course for China.” Crystal felt some relief saying that, as part of her wanted to get out of her staging area, a feeling she didn’t think she’d had since becoming a goddess. She glanced up at the diseased colors of her universe. Frowning, she muttered, “Put the color filters back in place.”

  The stars and galaxies above her shifted again and looked once more like a normal nanoverse.

  You can’t avoid it forever, you know. Crystal shook her head to dispel the nagging voice. Whatever was going on with her nanoverse had to be dealt with eventually, if that was even possible. And if it wasn’t...then she’d just have to hold on until it was time to end the world. I can do that, at least, Crystal told herself. I’ve waited too long for a second chance, and nothing is going to get in my way.

  Chapter 5

  How to Make Friends and Influence Gods

  The sunlight momentarily blinded Ryan as he stepped out onto the streets of Accra, a wave of dry heat washing over him as he blinked to let his eyes adjust. The light and heat were just short of oppressive, and he needed a little bit to get used to the change. Well, it’s not the worst thing sunlight’s ever tried to do to me, he thought as his vision cleared.

  His nanoverse’s doorway connected to the bathroom door of an out of business gas station. A bright yellow “Coming Soon” sign was displayed over the entrance, and he caught a few curious looks from pedestrians as he stepped out of what was supposed to be an out of commission building. He raised his hand in a quick, friendly wave, and got a few nods in return. The universal maxim of “act like you belong, and people will assume you do” was in effect. It helped Ryan mask his surprise and a little bit of shame. Before this, his entire view of Africa had come from movies and TV shows. He’d been expecting to see some level of abject poverty around him.

  Instead, what he found was, well, a city, much like the ones he had known his entire life. There were only a few details that jumped out at him as being foreign. The gas station prices popped out right away: the sign proclaimed that gas was ₵4.19 per liter, as opposed to the dollars and gallons Ryan was used to. Aside from that, the trees weren’t the ones he knew; they were lower to the ground and their leaves were different shapes. Beyond those details, the most surprising thing was how normal it all looked. While Ghana hadn’t quite reached full developed nation status yet, it was well on the way, and it showed.

  Ryan pursed his lips as he realized that, with the end of the world approaching, this country probably wouldn’t get a chance to be classified as a developed nation. Decades of work and planning brushed aside because he’d become the Eschaton.

  You’re not here for the sights, he reminded himself. He started walking, weaving among the pedestrians crowding the streets of Accra. He put on his best “I’m a clueless tourist” face, gawking at everything like he’d never seen it before. In truth, he was still struck by how ordinary it all seemed. To his left was a brown apartment building, laced with balconies. They were mostly empty, and Ryan couldn’t blame anyone for wanting to stay indoors in this heat. There were still people on the streets, walking and talking, although they were doing so with the general lethargy that comes from heat. The accents were different, and Ryan found them warm and melodious, something he could listen to for days on end.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have days to listen. I have to come back here someday, Ryan thought, then scowled as it occurred to him again that there was an excellent chance there wouldn’t be an Accra to go back to when this was all done. Depending on how the world ended, this city might not even exist anymore. But the people will, Ryan thought with a surge of determination. Damnit, these people will. I might not ever be able to save Accra, but wherever we take its people, they’ll be alive.

  He did his best to push off his anxiety about how difficult that would be. Fortunately, a distraction presented itself as he saw his destination was on the left. The building was an unassuming structure with a stylized spider painted in the window.

  Before barging in unannounced, Ryan took a moment to survey his surroundings. No one seemed to be paying him much attention, but something was raising his hackles.

  There. Two men, sitting in a nondescript car. They looked like they were both reading on their phones, and if it weren’t for his divine sight, he would have believed it. However, the car was sending out radio signals, not just getting them, which screamed “undercover cops” to Ryan.

  Of course cops are watching who goes in and out of here. Their best-case scenario involves an actual cult of literal spider people. Their worst-case scenario is an attempted coup by a hostile god, and the whole world knows what we can do now. He hoped they hadn’t recognized him - half the world still thought he was the actual Antichrist - but it was too late to do anything about it.

  Instead, he headed inside.

  He entered a clean and well-kept waiting room. A pair of fans sat on the floor, keeping air circulating. The radio was on, and Ryan could hear a newscaster discussing the current weather. There was a TV connected to the wall as well, showing some game show Ryan didn’t recognize. Ryan headed for a man sitting behind a desk at the far side of the room. A small brass nameplate on the desk proclaimed him to be Kwadwo Commodore.

  Ryan hadn’t mastered the ability to decode and speak languages yet. Athena and Crystal had tried to teach him, but there hadn’t been enough time between all the chaos. Thankfully, English was the official language of Ghana. “Hello,” he said, smiling.

  Kwadwo gave Ryan a puzzled look. “Can I help you, sir?” His voice carried the same accent Ryan had heard from most of the people on the street.

  “Yes. I’d like to speak to Anansi.”

  Kwadwo tensed slightly, and his hand reached for his phone. Ryan couldn’t read minds, but this guy’s thoughts were written all over his face. Get rid of this jerk as quickly and politely as possible. “Of course, sir. And who may I say wishes to speak with him?”

  “Ryan Smith. A fellow god.”

  Kwadwo paused, and for a moment Ryan thought the man recognized him and was either frightened or impressed...then realized that he wasn’t so lucky. He just thought Ryan was a lunatic, one of probably a dozen he’d dealt with
today alone.

  “Of course, sir. I’m sure we can make an appoint-”

  Ryan didn’t twist too hard. Just enough to change the direction of every photon in the room so they converged in a sphere above his outstretched palm. The man’s smile vanished, and his eyes widened into a bulge. “Sorry for the theatrics,” Ryan said, “but I’m kind of in a rush. Maybe he could squeeze me in?”

  The ball of light vanished, and the man inclined his head towards Ryan. “I’m very sorry for my doubt.”

  “No need to apologize, Kwadwo. You could not have known he was what he claimed to be.” The voice came from the door at the back of the room and out stepped a new man. He was African, about Ryan’s height, and his build was leaner than most gods Ryan had met so far. His hair and beard were both cut short and streaked with white. He wore a gray suit, the top two buttons of the shirt undone, and regarded Ryan with an amused glint in his eyes. There was something in his bearing that made Ryan feel like he was intruding, a proud, regal posture that got Ryan to feel like he was underdressed for the occasion.

  “Anansi, I assume?” Ryan made himself smile, although he wondered how many times he’d have to deal with someone stepping out of a hidden alcove.

  Anansi inclined his head in agreement. “Ryan Smith. Kwadwo, clear my appointments for today. I have a feeling I am going to find myself quite occupied.” Anansi stepped back through the doorway without waiting for a response, and Ryan followed.

  Inside was a sitting room with a low table and cushions on the floor. Another door sat at the back end, and Ryan suspected that it would lead to Anansi’s staging area. The other god motioned for him to take a cushion. “I’ll ask that you forgive me for not revealing myself sooner. I wanted to take your measure.”

  Ryan took a seat, and Anansi did the same. “Really? That was a test?”

  The grin Anansi gave him wasn’t cruel, but Ryan got the impression he was being laughed out. “Life is a test, Nascent. Sometimes, it is just more direct than others. I find it is very educational to see how a man treats those that could be seen as beneath him.”

  Ryan nodded slowly at that. “So how’d I do?”

  “Polite, but overbearing. Very American. Could have been much worse.” Anansi’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “Well, I’ve only been a god for a few weeks. Haven’t gotten a chance to get more arrogant. Give me a couple decades, I’m sure I’ll be lurking in doorways and testing random strangers.”

  Anansi roared with laughter and reached over to clap Ryan on the back. “A sense of humor! I think I’m going to like you, Ryan Smith.”

  Ryan couldn’t help but give a genuine chuckle of his own in return. The man’s laughter was infectious. “I hope you do, Anansi. Because I need your help.”

  Anansi’s eyes narrowed, although his smile didn’t waver. “Straight to business? Also very American. I just came out of seclusion to re-enter the world, and you wish to drag me into your battle with Enki?”

  “No.” Ryan shook his head. “Enki is dead. But the world is going to end, and most of the gods are sitting on the sidelines. We need your help.”

  Anansi’s smile faded, and he leaned forward to fix Ryan with a laser-focused gaze. “Yes. I received missives from both Enki and you. Both told vastly different stories, Eschaton. I had hoped to hear both sides before making my decision, but you have slain the opposition, so now I may only hear from you.” Anansi’s gaze did not break as he reached under the table and pulled out a pair of beers. He slid one to Ryan. “Drink with me and tell me your tale. Start at the beginning, Ryan Smith. At the end, I believe I will know if you can be trusted or not.”

  Ryan cracked open the beer. “And if I can’t be trusted?”

  “Then, I will take no pleasure in ending your life.” Anansi opened his own drink.

  After some thought, Ryan took a drink. Well, best be honest. He said to start at the beginning… “So, as long as I could remember, I was being followed by a guy in a suit, right?”

  It turned out to be a wonderful thing Anansi had cleared his day, as the story carried them long into the night.

  ***

  Crystal stepped out of her nanoverse, trying to remember the last time she had been in China. It had been…No, I’m sure I’ve been here since the awful business with the bloody opium. Wasn’t I? It bothered Crystal that she couldn’t remember. She was dimly aware of a child scrambling away from her arrival and a woman scowling at her from a doorway. That seemed less important than her uncertain memory. Didn’t I come here during the first World War? Or was I somewhere else then?

  Crystal shook her head, trying to clear it. I was here back in 1978! She thought triumphantly. It was 1978, because they unbanned Shakespeare, and I wanted to see Othello in Mandarin. I bloody knew I’d been here since the Opium Wars.

  Satisfied to have answered her question, she finally began to take in her surroundings. China had made some astonishing progress in regard to poverty reduction in the last thirty years, but in Crystal’s one million years of life, she had not encountered a city without a slum. Guangzhou was no exception. She had noticed over the years that the experience of the urban poor was fairly universal; the only thing that marked the area as being uniquely Chinese were the characters written on the signs.

  She’d find who she was looking for here. Crystal frowned, remembering what Candia had told her, back before this had all started. “A goddess must guard against callousness.” Guangzhou’s “urban villages,” the euphemistic names for the slums, were the kind of place where a degree of callousness was needed to protect yourself to the human suffering that surrounded you.

  “There she is! The ghost woman!” a young voice said from the alley.

  Crystal turned to face the speaker. The child she’d barely noticed earlier had come back with a woman in tow, and when Crystal turned towards them, the child scampered behind the woman’s leg. The woman was about Crystal’s height and possessed the sort of effortless poise that was usually associated with dancers or gymnasts, moving smoothly to protect the child from this intruder. She looked like she was in her late twenties until you looked at her eyes. Those eyes belonged to someone far older than her apparent age. It was the best way Crystal had learned to spot gods. No matter what they did, their eyes always looked old.

  Everything about her was clean and neat. She was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a white t-shirt that seemed too spotless for this alley, and her hair was short, coming just down to her chin, serving as a perfect frame for her face.

  “That’s no ghost,” the woman said kindly. “That’s a very old friend of mine.”

  “Very old?” Crystal snorted. “I’ll try not to be insulted, Dianmu.”

  “As if you were ever that easy to insult, Crystal.” The woman – Dianmu, goddess of lightning - smiled. “You’re scaring my people.”

  “Sorry about that, love. It’s been a rough few weeks.”

  Dianmu nodded. “Why don’t you go to the other children, Hui? Let them know I have a guest, but we’re still eating at noon sharp.”

  The boy nodded vigorously and glanced over at Crystal. “Sorry I thought you were a ghost,” he muttered before dashing away.

  Dianmu smiled after him. “I suggest we wait for privacy to speak,” she said to Crystal.

  “I think that’s for the best, love.” Crystal followed her down the alley.

  ***

  Nothing about Dianmu’s apartment indicated that it belonged to a goddess. Crystal supposed you could call it a penthouse suite since it was on the top floor, but that term typically conjured images of rooftop pools and glass panel windows overlooking a beautiful view. You expected to see some tosser in a suit swirling brandy in a penthouse.

  You could never imagine anyone doing that here. For starters, it was nowhere near that large. It didn’t take up the whole floor; several other apartments shared this floor with Dianmu, although it was larger by several degrees than the apartments below it. It was clean and well maintained, but it had
a lived-in feeling that you’d never get in a penthouse. There were tiny, almost imperceptible scuff marks on the tile floor, and minuscule grooves worn into the wall where someone had repeatedly traced their fingers along the drywall day after day.

  The living room had a single futon in it, comfortable-looking but with faded stains from years of use and exposure to the sun. The only thing that made the apartment unusual was the lack of electronics. No television, not even an old and bulky model. No computer fan whirring from an unseen office. Only the lights, a clean but ancient window AC unit, and a small refrigerator made any use of electricity.

  The room was laid out with this in mind, Crystal realized as she took a moment to take off her shoes. The futon was placed to get the maximum amount of sunlight during the day, and from the indents worn into the cushions, whoever sat in it preferred to read by daylight. No end tables were placed near the unused outlets, instead sitting in easy reach of the futon.

  Most gods and goddesses preferred, if they dwelled among mortals, to decorate their homes with art and antiques, pottery and paintings - the trappings of luxury from bygone eras. Dianmu had forgone that. Instead, she outfitted her apartment with the trinkets that one accumulates over the course of...living. There on the end table was a photo of Dianmu with two smiling, gap-toothed boys. Next to it was a framed newspaper article about a new police captain in the Guangwei Subdistrict of Guangzhou, the man in the photo bearing a striking resemblance to one of the children. Father? Brother? Or just that little boy all grown up?

  Crystal noticed that the theme was repeated throughout the room: framed photos of Dianmu and a child, each sitting next to a connected item. A college admission letter here. A second photo of a smiling adult in a lab coat, and so on. Children, and then success as adults.