by Alex Raizman
He didn’t know what to say, but Crystal didn’t seem interested in his opinions. She kept talking. “So go see your sister, Ryan. Hold on to the memories, as long as they last. Because they don’t last forever, and neither will she.”
They sat in silence for a couple minutes, Ryan desperately trying to come up with something to say. Before he could figure it out, Crystal said, “We’re here.”
Ryan stood up, but Crystal wasn’t moving. “If we’re here, let’s get this over with?” he asked.
“You go ahead, love. It occurs to me that I might not be the best person to bring to a family reunion, yeah?”
Ryan frowned. Something about her tone was off. “You sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” Crystal said in that same odd tone. “Just go on ahead. I’ll be along in a bit, once introductions are made. Figure this is a good chance to check on my nanoverse.”
It finally clicked for Ryan what was off in her voice. It was too cheerful, too polite...too strongly faux British. “I could use some moral support in there,” he said, “In case my sister-”
Crystal’s eyes hardened. “Ryan, love, she’s your bloody sister. You’re being a total wanker about this. Just go. It’ll be brilliant. Family matters, yeah?”
“I’m just-” Ryan started to say, but she cut him off with a sad smile and a wave towards the door.
“Go, Ryan. I’ll come back after I’m done.”
“Okay.” Ryan took a deep breath. “Take care, Crystal. And thanks.”
“You too,” Her smile widened. “Now go! I’ll see you afterward. Hug your sister for me.”
***
Laying on her cheap, overstuffed couch, Isabel Smith realized she’d come to loathe social media. It used to be her morning routine to spend her first half-hour of consciousness lying in bed, scrolling through Facebook and Instagram, her phone held over her head until she was fully awake. The omnipresent threat of dropping her phone on her face helped her avoid falling back to sleep, and she’d usually find a few funny pictures or interesting animal facts to share with her friends.
These days, every message, tag, share, or comment she received was about Ryan. Someone - and if Isabel ever found out who she was going to throw them off her eleventh story balcony - had told the press that she was Ryan Smith’s sister. The Ryan Smith that had been all over the news. Then that dipshit at the local paper had run an article with her photo in it, ending with “at time of press, Isabel Smith had declined to comment.”
“You should either turn over you’re brother or chug bleach, bitch. Your a monster,” she read aloud from a comment on one of her posts.
Her fingers flew to the touch keyboard. “Amazing. You managed to use both versions of ‘your’ incorrectly. I’d applaud the stupidity, but I imagine loud noises startle you easily.”
She sighed as her thumb hovered over the post button. It would feel so good to hit it, but after thirty seconds, the good feeling would fade, and she’d just have to deal with trolls all day. Instead, she set the post to “only friends” and deleted the jerkoff’s comment.
“Declined to comment” was such a nasty little phrase. Isabel had thought that was the best thing to do. Max, her lawyer friend, had told her it was the best thing to do. But with the rest of the article painting her as a vapid millennial that didn’t care about what was happening with her brother, “declined to comment” looked a lot like “didn’t care.”
The media had moved on quickly. There were angels in Ohio, spider people in Ghana, photos of the Kraken eating a boat in the Pacific, and gods. So many gods. She might be related to one of the more interesting ones, but with so much else going on, human interest pieces like “family members” didn’t get the clicks “Three harpies carry off cow in Montana” did.
She’d hoped that would be the end of it, but the internet and the government had not forgotten, and she wasn’t sure which was worse.
Her phone beeped with a text from Claire. “Asshats trolling you again, hon?”
Isabel bit her cheek and considered the words carefully, finally settling on “Yup.” It was a curt response, one that brooked no room for discussion.
“I’m sorry,” was the response, followed by a frowny face emoji to show how sorry Claire was. “Have you heard from him yet?”
“No, I haven’t, because my brother is a jackass,” Isabel growled at the phone. What she typed was “nope,” then sat back and stared at the three dots letting her know Claire was responding.
That was the thing. The trolls, the conversations with government agents, getting fired from her job, she could handle all that if she’d known Ryan was okay. Instead, it felt like he was the only person on the planet who didn’t want to talk to her.
The three dots resolved into a message. “Well, if you need company, I’ve got a bottle of Moscato with your name on it.”
Isabel put the phone down without responding. She wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with that right now. She was afraid she would end up taking her anger at Ryan out on Claire, who didn’t deserve it.
Older brothers were supposed to be jerks. That was the way of the world. They gave you noogies and wrestled with you and made fun of you for watching Clarissa Explains it All, yelled at you for bothering them when their friends were over, and destroyed your Animal Facts binder.
But Ryan hadn’t been that brother. He’d sat down and listened to her explain the intricate social structure of her dolls and had cared enough to ask two days later how Ms. Buttercup’s Revolution against the Pixie Queen was going, and if Ms. Buttercup wanted some back-up from the Power-Rangers. He’d watched Clarissa with her. Well, he’d actually played his Gameboy while she watched it, but he’d never made fun of her for it.
Even after the whole...thing with his imaginary friend had gone too far, he’d still taken her to dinner after he got out of high school every Wednesday when their parents worked late.
And now he’s completely ignoring me. Isabel felt tears well up and furiously blinked them back.
Her phone beeped again. Claire. “I just hate the thought of you being alone during all this,” followed by a heart.
Isabel typed: “Thanks, Claire. But...I don’t think it would be good to be around you right now.” She considered it, then backspaced. “Thanks, Claire. But I’m fine.” Again, she hesitated and then deleted the message.
She knew that Claire was sincere and honestly cared about how Isabel was coping. However, the last thing Isabel wanted to do was see her ex, precisely because she wanted to see her ex. They’d ended things for the right reason and broken up was broken up. Isabel was not going to fall back into a relationship that didn’t work. If it had been years...then maybe. Things can change in years. But no one changes that much in a couple months. She tried again: “Thank you, Claire. Really. But right now would be a terrible time. I’m not in a great place and might do something that would hurt us both in the long term.”
This time, she hit send.
Anyway, Claire was still going to Korea to teach English in the spring. When Isabel realized she didn’t want to go with her, that had brought everything that wasn’t working in their relationship to the forefront.
One more reason to be mad at Ryan. His dumb ass had been part of the reason she hadn’t wanted to go. Granted, a part of her that insisted on being fair chimed in, the vast majority of the reasons were having no job prospects and not knowing the language and not wanting to move halfway across the world with someone you weren’t sure was right for you.
Isabel hushed that particular inner voice. Being mad at her brother was more comfortable than being scared for her brother, so he was getting the blame for everything right now.
“I understand,” Claire sent, “and I’m sorry. If you do need company though, let me know - I promise I won’t let things get weird.”
Lots of people were saying that these days. “I’m sorry.” At least Isabel knew that Claire actually meant it.
Isabel typed her reply. “You’re alway
s weird. It’s part of your charm.” Before she could hit send, there was a knock at her door.
Isabel sighed and stood up, glancing in a mirror to make sure her hair wasn’t a complete disaster. It was probably Agent Francis or Agent Brown or someone from the alphabet soup out there, and she didn’t want to look like a couch goblin in front of them. They didn’t seem to be taking her seriously as it was.
The knock came again. “I’m coming,” Isabel shouted. “I swear to God, if it’s you government assholes again, I still don’t know where the hell my good for nothing brother-” She threw the door open, ready and willing to unleash her anger on whoever was out there.
Her mouth fell open. He had shorter hair than she remembered and was holding himself differently. His eyes weren’t darting around nervously, his shoulders were back, and he’d lost about thirty pounds. But there was no mistaking her brother.
“Ryan?” she asked softly. A flood of emotions swept over her, weeks of fear and anger and frustration in a tidal wave that threatened to drown her.
Ryan’s face lit up. “Heya Izzy.”
“Is it really you?” she asked. She reached out, her hand trembling. I’ve snapped. I’ve gone insane. There’s no one outside my door, and people are going to see me waving my hand at empty air.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Ryan said. “You cut your hair.”
Isabel ignored that last bit, although she did note it was the kind of inane observation her brother would make right now. She touched his shoulder, making sure that he was solid and real.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said again.
Isabel nodded once, then curled her fingers into a fist and punched him in the chest.
Ryan rocked back on his heels. Back in the day, Isabel had been able to throw punches that could knock him on his ass. These days, after gaining godhood and getting his ass beat by Enki, they didn’t hurt as much as they once had.
The fury in her eyes did plenty of that. “You asshole!” She hit him again. “No call, no text, nothing!” Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled back to hit him one more time. “The news is calling you the Antichrist! I have reporters and government goon breathing down my neck twenty-four-seven! I missed so much work I got fired! And the whole time the only reason I know you’re alive is because I keep seeing you on the news! You. Prick!”
The punches were actually hurting now, but she was winding down. Ryan took a deep breath. “You’re right, there’s no excuse. Best I can say is I’m sorry, and I’m here to make up for it.”
She regarded him for a moment, then gave him a fierce hug. “Don’t think this means we’re okay, jerkwad. But I’m so glad you’re all right.”
He hugged her back, thinking that if anyone had been observing from the outside, they would have one of two reactions. If they’d been an only child, they never would have believed two people could go from screaming and punching to hugging this quickly. If they’d had a sibling, they would have nodded in complete understanding.
Mentally, Ryan thanked Anansi and made a note to do that in person. He felt his own eyes begin to sting, and he hugged his sister tighter. “I know. I’m going to tell you everything. Can I come in?”
They broke the hug and wiped their faces. “Yeah, yeah. Come in,” she said.
He did, and she gave him another light punch. “Still?” he asked.
“I think I have the right to hit you whenever I want for the rest of our lives.” Isabel looked like she might be joking. Might. “So what the hell happened to you?”
“I became a god. With, like, actual powers and stuff,” he said, shrugging in embarrassment at how pretentious it sounded. It hadn’t before, but saying “I’m a god” to his sister felt…wrong.
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “You know, if it weren’t for what I saw on the news, I’d think you’d finally lost your mind. I’m going to need a drink for this, aren’t I?”
Ryan nodded. “I’ll take one too.”
He surveyed her apartment, decorated with black curtains and neon paintings of abstract shapes flowing into each other. She motioned him into the kitchen, the only part of the apartment Ryan could see that lacked anything bright neon unless you counted the pink bowls sitting in the sink.
“You get water, jerkwad,” she said. “I’m not sure if I’m going to share my booze with you. So. What the hell happened?”
He thought for a moment, and reminded himself that this was his sister, he could skip some steps. “So, remember that imaginary friend I had that never went away? Well, it turned out he was something called a Curator and was named Nabu…”
***
Isabel was resting her chin on her hands as Ryan finished the story. She was also chewing her lip, a habit she’d had since childhood, and Ryan had long ago learned to let her finish her train of thought if she was doing that. She hadn’t hit him since he’d gotten into the apartment, and he didn’t want to give her reason to start up again. You make it sound like she’s some kind of violent psycho, he thought, suppressing a grin.
After several minutes, Isabel spoke. “So. I need to make sure I understand this.”
Ryan nodded for her to go ahead.
“Your imaginary friend from childhood was real. You found a marble that is actually a universe and got pulled into a fight with actual gods, and you’re armed mostly with the power of math. Now you beat the main god you were fighting, but his BFF who eats children is still out there, so you have to fight him. All of this is because the freaking world is going to end, and you want to not kill everyone in the process. That about sum it up?”
Ryan shrugged sheepishly. “Pretty much. Although it seems kind of silly when you put it that way.”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “You think? Ryan, are you sure you haven’t gone nuts and joined a cult?”
“I am. I can prove it if you want.”
His sister’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
“I can zero out your personal gravity. You’ll float like you were in space.”
Her eyes lit up. When she was ten, Isabel had decided she would be an astronaut. This was at least more realistic than her previous life goal of being a unicorn, which had been an improvement over her last ambition to own “a million billion dogs”. While she’d eventually decided on a different career path, she’d never gotten over her fascination with space. Offering her the chance to experience zero gravity was like offering her an early Christmas. “Okay, if you can do that, I’ll believe the whole thing.”
Ryan nodded and held out his hand, twisting. Manipulating gravity was the first trick he learned, and it remained one of his favorites. The effect was immediate: her clothes and hair started floating loosely about her, and her startled motion at the sensation sent her spinning into the air.
For a moment she just floated, stunned, and Ryan hoped she wasn’t going to freak out or start throwing up. When her head bumped gently against her ceiling, Isabel began to giggle with childish glee.
“Ohmygod.” She pushed off the ceiling, letting herself drift towards the floor. Spinning to bring her hands down, she let her fingers touch the carpet and pushed herself back upwards. She was barely able to speak, instead just letting out a delighted “Weeeee!”
Ryan smiled as his sister bounced around her apartment, alternating between delighted laugher and various “wee” s and “woo” s of excitement. It hadn’t been long since he’d gotten his powers, but everything had been so crazy, so hectic, so…high stakes, that he’d never really thought about taking some time to just revel in the joy of what he could do.
Seeing his sister burst into another round of laughter as she overshot her living room and landed on her back on the hallway wall, he resolved to do so.
“So, believe me?” he finally asked, once she’d calmed down. He’d gone into the living room after she’d maneuvered in there, sitting on the couch while she floated a foot over the coffee table.
“Oh my God, yes. This is amazing! How long can you keep me up here?”
Ryan he
ld out his hands. “Reality eventually pushes back against any change I make, but as long as I’m nearby, I can keep it up almost indefinitely. If it was a more complex equation, I’d start getting Hungry soon, but gravity is pretty simple.”
“Hungry, not tired?” She turned herself slowly, so she was facing him but still floating.
“Yup. Although it’s not just food hunger. Thirst, tiredness, the need for air, loneliness – those are all what Crystal called Hungers. I don’t need to worry about any of them unless I push myself too hard.”
Isabel bit her lip again. “Loneliness? You don’t get lonely anymore?”
Ryan shook his head. “I think it’s why gods don’t go crazy after a century or two. Once you become a god, you don’t need to socialize, unless you burn through enough divine power. You still can if it’s something you enjoy doing – or at least, enjoy doing as much as you did before you got your nanoverse – but it’s like…” He groped for an analogy. “It’s like eating really good chocolate, not because you’re hungry or even have a craving, but just because you like the taste. And reading a book or watching a movie or any kind of art falls under that too.”
Isabel gently tapped the coffee table to set herself spinning while she thought, then stopped herself by catching her foot on the ceiling fan. She gave him a solemn expression that was somewhat spoiled by her being upside down. “Okay. Then I’m not mad at you anymore.”
Ryan blinked. He’d hoped the zero-gravity ride around her apartment would get Isabel to consider letting go of the anger but hadn’t expected anything so abrupt. “Why not? Not that I’m complaining,” he added hastily, “but it seems sudden.”
She nodded. “I know, but it makes sense that such a sudden, major change to your psychology would probably throw you for a loop, and you’d forget little details like letting your little sister know you were trying to stop the goddamn apocalypse. Ahem.” She sighed, and then held her hand to her mouth as the force of the sigh sent her drifting back. “It’s the only thing that explains you being such an inconsiderate jackhole, and it’s something I can forgive you for. So like your new bestie likes to say, roll with it.”
