Strange Cosmology

by Alex Raizman

The door closed, and even that temptation was gone. Nothing. There was nothing. No relief coming. Not now, not ever. Sleep was the final Hunger she could have filled on her own. Thirst, food, and socialization were all denied to her. Bast blinked as tears started to form, tears that were too dry to help. They were just a salty sludge that burned her eyes.

  In frustration, Bast began to struggle against her chains again. The cold steel was unyielding. If she had her full power, she could have snapped them like paper, torn them like flesh. Knowing the difference between what could be and what was drove her to further frustration, and she started to slam her head back against the table. Each impact let loose a ringing clang. She didn’t know what she was trying to do. Breaking the steel around her skull would be as impossible as snapping these chains, and the helmet was cushioned so she couldn’t even hurt herself.

  She fell back, no longer moving, exhausted. Fear began to well up in her, fear that she had pushed herself too hard, that she would need to sleep again, that she would have to go back to the desert. No. Please, no. There was at least some relief in not needing to sleep. It was something.

  After a few minutes, Bast relaxed. Her body was tired, but her mind was alert. She wouldn’t need to sleep.

  She was just helpless.

  Bast started to occupy her mind with fantasies of escape. She skipped the escape itself, as she had no idea how to accomplish it. Once she figured that out, fantasy would become reality. In the meantime, she focused on what would happen immediately after she broke free. She would show these people what it meant to anger a goddess. Legends would be told for millennia of the hell she unleashed upon these buildings. No, there will be no legends. No one will be left alive to tell them.

  Unfortunately, the fantasies could only sustain her for so long. Just as they began to fade into despair, she felt something on the edge of her sensation. It was like drumbeats over the horizon, throbbing in the distance, although it wasn’t quite a sound. It was something familiar.

  The distraction was enough to fight away the depression for a moment longer. Bast reached out towards the sensation, straining to try and place it. Without her power, it was maddeningly out of reach. Bast growled in frustration, and then it suddenly fell into place. It was familiar because it was hers - her nanoverse! Somehow, wherever it was hidden, someone had activated it. She braced herself for the rush of energy, but instead, she felt the power race away from her, going elsewhere. It was like watching distant lines of lightning streak away. Bast tried to scream in frustration, but all she could do was whimper. What are they doing? That shouldn’t even be possible! Who dares? I’ll kill them, I’ll tear out their hearts, I’ll feast on their…

  A small trickle power broke away from the flood, as if it sensed her desperation. It streaked through walls and floors and jumped to where it belonged. Bast clutched that tiny fragment of power as tightly as she dared. It was a droplet in the vast ocean that she used to have, and the moment she used it, she’d be tired again. It would mean going back to the desert.

  Unless…

  Bast stared at the pipe above her, her heart pounding. If this worked, she’d still need to sleep, but maybe it wouldn’t be a desert she visited.

  Bast took the deepest breath she could manage in the damned restraints and sent that little droplet of power away. A tiny needle of force, a minuscule fraction of her will made reality, streaked along the path of her gaze and hit the pipe with a metallic ping.

  Her eyelids started to droop. Reality began to run like water as her exhaustion returned. She forced it away, forced herself to fight the sudden resurgence of sleep. There was time for that later. Right now she needed to watch, hoping she hadn’t wasted the only bit of power she might ever get. If she had, she thought she might go mad. If it didn’t-

  Drip

  A lonely drop of water detached itself from the pipe and let gravity do its work, bringing it to its final resting place: Bast’s dry, chapped lips.

  She forced her mouth open just enough to let that drop run between her teeth. It dissolved on her tongue, barely even registering, and certainly not taking the edge off the thirst.

  Five agonizing minutes passed before…

  Drip

  Another drop fell straight into her mouth, and Bast felt a surge of joy.

  One Hunger was being met. One weakness was being removed. It might take days, but I’ll get there. I’ll finally have one of my Hungers addressed…and when my mouth is less parched, maybe I can truly sleep. And once I’ve slept…

  Drip

  This time her tongue darted out to meet the drop, and she let herself smile while waiting for the next one.

  Once I’ve slept, I’ll find out who dared to treat me like a lab rat.

  Chapter 7

  The Spider and the Fly

  “That’s why I’m here; we figured I was the best choice to head to Ghana and make contact with you.” Ryan took a deep breath. Until he’d started telling the story, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been through since finding his nanoverse. He’d left out their concerns about Crystal’s health and Athena’s mistrust of tricksters, and a few other details that didn’t seem important, but otherwise, he’d told the other god everything.

  Anansi stroked his chin, “I see.” Anansi drew the two words out as if he was contemplating every letter. Ryan waited for him to continue, but Anansi seemed to believe that settled the matter.

  “Uh...” Ryan began, and Anansi smiled and raised a finger to stop him.

  “I assumed you had questions for me as well. Was that incorrect?” The words could have been judgmental, but Anansi’s tone was honestly curious.

  Ryan paused to think of what he was missing, then felt stupid as he realized what Anansi was getting at.

  “Right.” He took a deep breath, deciding to go with the most uncomfortable topic first. “The news is claiming you’re trying to start a civil war here. What’s really happening?”

  Anansi cocked his head slightly, a small grin spreading across his face. “You seem to be implying that I am not starting a civil war here. Why is that?”

  “Because it wouldn’t make sense for you,” Ryan answered without a trace of hesitation. “I mean, I could be wrong, but you don’t strike me as power-hungry. You might start a war if there was a just reason, but Ghana is one of the most stable countries on the continent. I don’t see a motive for conflict.”

  Anansi’s head remained tilted, but the edges of his eyes crinkled. “You think you know me so well when you were the one that did most of the talking?”

  Ryan nodded. “I did most of the talking, but you said a lot too.” Ryan held up three fingers and began ticking off points. “You frowned hard when I mentioned Enki was working with Moloch. You clenched your fists when I talked about the mummies in Grant. You relaxed when I said we drew Enki out to a deserted island.” He lowered his hand. “All of that could be faked, sure, but we spent hours talking, and it’d be exhausting to fake your reactions the entire time. So I think that adds up to a man who doesn’t like chaos or needless violence.”

  Anansi’s laugh was deep and rich. “You see much, Ryan Smith, and you pay attention. You are correct: I do abhor needless violence, although do not think that means I fear to ‘get my hands dirty’, as it were.” He met Ryan’s eyes, his mirth vanishing. “I did not mean to start a conflict here. But when I announced who I was, the worshippers of Jehovah and his Son thought I was spouting blasphemy. When they saw my children, they thought them to be demons. And when they opened fire, I acted to defend what is mine.”

  Ryan nodded slowly. “The spider-people the news was talking about, they’re your children?”

  Anansi shrugged. “After a fashion.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a well-worn photograph, handing it over to Ryan.

  At first glance, it looked like a human. An unusually tall one - he towered over the individual next to him, and his limbs were long and lanky - but just a human. Then the details began to pop out at Ryan. Wha
t he’d first mistaken for shadows were actually two large fangs jutting out from his lips and down his chin. The figure’s eyes weren’t just hooded, they were black as pitch and almost lifeless, ringed by tiny dots that gleamed like secondary eyes. To top it all off, what Ryan had first taken as armor was a dark gray carapace that had replaced most of the man’s skin. It was a seamless blend of spider and human, and Ryan found it both fascinating and slightly nauseating.

  “They’re my worshippers,” Anansi said.

  ***

  Hector Ross settled back into his seat. The cushion was soft leather, molding to his body perfectly as he got comfortable. In his time with the United States Marine Corps, he’d ridden in all manner of military vehicles. He could have described them in a variety of ways, but before today, comfortable had never been one of them.

  It appeared being part of project Myrmidon had perks beyond becoming the deadliest weapon in his country’s arsenal.

  “Everyone, attention,” Roger Evans said from the front of the plane, motioning them to gather around. “Just got word that we have authorization from the Republic of Ghana for this little operation.”

  “So?” Diane said, lounging in her chair. She’d gotten increasingly insubordinate since becoming a Myrmidon. They all had. The shrinks were wondering if it was some kind of feedback from having divine blood in their veins, a personality shift coming from Bast. Hector didn’t worry about that. As far as he was concerned, having the power to make reality his bitch was enough reason to let discipline slack some.

  “I’m with Diane, sir,” Hector said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the armrest and prop up his head. “We were going in either way. Sure, it’s nice that we won’t be violating sovereign airspace, but...why should we care?”

  Andrew Palmer answered before Roger could, giving them all an incredulous look. “Don’t you see? That means this isn’t a stealth mission anymore.”

  Diane and Hector shared a wicked grin as Roger nodded in confirmation. “As far as the government of Ghana is concerned,” Roger said, “we’ll do less damage than a prolonged civil war. We’re to try and contain the fight where we can, but…”

  “But we showed them the footage of Graham Island, and they don’t want things going nuclear,” Diane interjected, glancing over at Roger. “That sound right?”

  “Pretty much,” Roger replied with a small grin. “And that’s one thing that needs to be crystal clear. Under no circumstances are we to replicate a WMD, unless the hostiles do it first. Everyone got that?”

  Nods all around, Andrew’s a bit more sullen than the others.

  “We wouldn’t survive ground zero anyway,” Hector said. “The eggheads still have no idea how Smith and the others pulled that off.”

  Roger nodded gravely. “And that’s the other thing I want to stress. Smith has a few weeks’ experience on us, at a minimum, and possibly months. However, before that, he was a civilian. Shouldn’t be too tough to deal with.”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Hector interjected. “He’s fought against other gods before and survived.”

  “True, but I think we can handle him. Anansi, on the other hand...according to our mythologist, no one knows when Anansi first emerged. Legends of him go back thousands of years. He’s got millennia of experience.”

  “Yeah, most of them when the height of military technology was spears and swords,” Diane said, rolling her eyes and sitting up straighter. “And even when guns were around, they were mostly muskets and shit. I think we have a few tricks he won’t see coming.” She mimed firing an assault rifle.

  Hector nodded in agreement.

  ***

  “You...turned people into this,” Ryan asked, staring at the picture in shock. “That’s...why? This is some straight-up Kafka body horror.”

  Anansi’s smile had a brittle edge. “Because people were on the news shouting about how the world would end. Gods were coming out of the shadows. Monsters were returning. I had to keep my people safe. I am but one being. For all my power, I cannot be everywhere. This,” and he gestured to the picture, “protects them. They’re able to survive so much more than normal humans. Seeing as the gods who are actually going to end the world are at a loss for how to keep people safe, I stand by my choice.”

  “You... I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding. They’re monsters!” Ryan exclaimed, then quickly backtracked as Anansi’s eyes hardened. “I mean, that’s how people see them. They look monstrous. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine. Or, at least, as good as they were before?”

  “I knew I would be exposing them to such... judgments,” Anansi said, his voice flat and unyielding, “and they knew that when they accepted my gift. But I did not deceive them. They chose this for themselves as a way to survive the apocalypse. And if you cannot save the world, I will rest easy knowing that I did what I could to at least save this small sliver for as long as they can endure.”

  Ryan winced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I’ve found throughout my life that very often, men say offensive things and then try to hide behind their ignorance. They act like it excuses them from having said something offensive.” Anansi reached over and pulled the photograph out of Ryan’s hands, putting it back in his jacket pocket. “It does not. Do not say you did not mean to offend.”

  “Well. Okay.” Ryan shook his head. “I’ve never seen a person partially transformed into a spider before. It’s...unsettling.”

  “I think, Eschaton, that you should become accustomed to being unsettled.”

  ***

  “Maybe you’re right, and Anansi’s out of touch with modern tech,” Roger allowed, “or maybe he’s already seen it all. There’s plenty of brushfire conflicts across the globe that a literal shapeshifter could have slipped into and out of without anyone noticing. Do we really want to go in assuming he doesn’t know what we can do?”

  Diane scowled again but shook her head. “So the plan is the same, but less subtle?”

  “Damn right. We hit the ground, we move fast, we hit hard. Full auto - let our new strength compensate for recoil. Get in closer than we’re used to, because the further away from our target, the more power we drain with every attack Double check before we drop, make sure you have ichor rounds loaded.”

  “Already done,” Hector said with a yawn.

  “Then triple check,” Roger said firmly. “I don’t want things going to shit because we run out of power and end up standing there with our dicks in our hands.”

  “I’d like to see Diane manage that,” Andrew said with a chuckle.

  That broke the tension a bit with a round of laughter. Diane made a rude gesture and gave Andrew an anatomically improbable suggestion, which caused the soldiers to laugh again.

  As the mirth died down, Roger walked over to the window and looked out at the African coast. “One more thing,” he said, his voice low, forcing everyone to lean in. “We’ve been instructed by command to recover more of those Black Spheres. They want them to power more Myrmidons.” He gave them a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know about you, but if I was one of those freaks, I’d put that thing where no one could find it. Don’t you think?”

  Hector opened his mouth to speak, then saw the considering frown on Andrew’s face, and the way Diane’s forehead was furrowed. Hector paused to let his own gears turn, considering a little more carefully.

  Right now, the four of them were the best weapons anyone had against these gods. They were unique; as a group, they were one of a kind. If Project Myrmidon had more of those spheres, there would be more Myrmidons. They’d lose that unique quality. They’d, in essence, just be grunts again.

  “You know what, sir?” Hector said into the silence. “I think you’re absolutely right.”

  “Good,” Roger said as the others nodded agreement. “Thought you might. We’ll check for them, of course, but if we can’t find them, we’ll at least have two new bodies for the eggheads to play with. Drop’s in five.�
�