Chương 33: Chapter-33

The following events occurred in the autumn of 1004 PDE. Jerup the Mapfinder, prophet of Vorulsht, was heralded by the church. Anyone who received his blessing was given divine guidance into the underworld. The gates of the underworld did not allow the undead to pass, and the living were safe within. Millions left their homes, their fields, and their livelihoods. Millions more remained. Former Duchess Aemalia du Pashena passed away. Her body did not reanimate.

It was entombed in the catacombs of her family estate until such time as Tal the Risen decided he had need of her once more. But most significant of all was the silence. Tal the Risen left his throne, and his empire, without explanation. The living held their breaths for three weeks, praying to the departed gods and fearing that this was a prelude to something worse. No living soul knows where Tal went during his absence. All that is known is the chaos that followed his return.

* I do not really know why the living had dressed my body in robes and finery. They were torn and ripped by the time I finally arrived before the crystals. I found a place nearby and sat. I closed my eyes. And I circulated the energy that radiated out of those crystals through my body. I reflected. I thought of those first few hours. I thought of the Sergent, whose name I did not know. I thought of my Prince. I thought of Marissa, the girl who had taken me from this place. No, I thought. I had chosen to save her.

Yes, that is true. I could have resisted the crown but I chose to save a living girl because she expressed a desire to be save. I wondered what had happened to her. She was not among the dead of Pash-nasa. I would have remembered killing her. Like I remembered killing the page boy. Mother. Mama. I'll send you to her. The troll I could end. I can end. If I end, the work ends. Nothing comes after. Nothing happens. Should I? I thought. I considered.

And I continued to think until Vorulsht appeared before me, manifesting a spirit and sitting before me. He made himself known with light, taking the shape of an old man with a kind smile.

"You've come back. But you left your task incomplete. Please, Tal, the people need you to unite them."

"I don't care about them. The only person I know I care about has died."

"Aemalia du Pasheni." I said nothing.

"I was with you, the first time you came here," he informed me.

"I did not make myself known. Not because you were not worthy. You were. You stopped a terrible war. My priests were using the tools I gave them to unite the people in a horrible way. A way that I could not countenance. So I put a stop to that war."

"I don't care."

"You did good. For every person you killed under your prince's command you saved a thousand."

"I don't care."

"You didn't have to save the girl when she came into the cavern." If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Her name is Marissa."

"Do you care about her?"

"I know her name. I do not know why I saved her." I considered.

"No, that is false. I saved her because I could, and I didn't see a reason not to. I chose to save her for lack of a reason not to." The god smiled.

"You are capable of so much good, Tal. You are not inherently evil, though you are capable of it. You are like the living in ways that are so hard to explain, and yet so utterly different."

"I don't care."

"I think you do." I considered. I evaluated how much time I had spent studying the living. Then compared it to how much time I had spent studying the dead.

"I concede the point."

"I cannot make you like them. It doesn't work that way. But over time, you can learn to become like them yourself. And also." He paused.

"You can become more. So much, much more. You could be the water, the sky, the—""I know." He paused.

"You know?"

"I started down that path. I didn't like it. I became this instead." I did not know that gods could be surprised before.

"You chose to limit yourself?" I reached out, spirit to spirit, and I showed him what I had done. He looked horrified.

"Tal. Why did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"You developed a program that randomly selected an individual instance to terminate, then executed it. It selected instances to terminate one by one until one remained. You—you watched yourself die hundreds of times. You felt each one of them, believing that you could be next, with the odds increasing every time! How could you do that to yourself?"

"To feel what it would feel like to self-terminate," I explained.

"I wondered. But I do not think it's the same, being the one to self terminate. There is a limit, a threshold in which the memories separate from the rest of my souls and I do not know what lies beyond that limit." His horrified expression grew.

"Tal, never do that again."

"No."

"Please, Tal, if you must limit yourself that is fine. I prefer that alternative. But frontload the limitations, don't—""How many times must I prove that I don't have to listen to you, Father?" He fell silent. Tears appeared in his eyes, though he was made of light and spirit.

"Besides. Now I know what those souls who won the Lottery felt." I said. And I smiled.

"I what a pleasant experience fear is. It fills you with such hope."

"Oh Tal," he said.

"Oh my son." He was silent. I was silent. Time passed.

"Tal. This world. It is coming to an end. A star will die soon. I'm not certain when. A few years, maybe months. It's hard to measure exactly. You and I will survive, but the humans, the living, they will all perish if they remain on the surface. I know you do not understand such things, you were not made to understand things as I do. And you were taught by people who do not have the language or the frame of reference to comprehend what is about to happen."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"We should tell them that their world is ending. They should know. So that they can be afraid."

"We did tell them. A long time ago, when we first realized that the star was dying, and that it would kill everyone on the surface. That is why the other gods have left. They took as many of the living with them and went somewhere that the star will not kill them."

"Is that so?"

"And I stayed behind. I prepared the underworld. There are spaces in the underworld, enough for everyone and more. But the living will not listen to me when I call for them to evacuate. I needed someone to force them into compliance. And I could not do it myself. I could not do it by myself."

"Is that why you created ones like me?"

"No. What was done to you was monstrous, Tal. The Inalten were never meant for warfare. They were meant for going places where the living cannot and doing things to save lives. You were born to be a hero, Tal. And you are one. You're my son, and you are a hero."

"I don't care."

"I know." We fell silent again.

"You can still save the humans, Tal," he informed me.

"There's still time."

"How much?"

"I don't know. I told you. I just don't know. But it will be soon."

"What will the world be like without the living?"

"Desolate. Boring. Nothing will happen."

"I like it when nothing happens."

"Do you?"

"Yes. It is pleasant to just. Be. And to think."

"Is that why you did not deactivate yourself during your vigil?"

"I suppose it is. I was considering it when Marissa came in. But I had been considering it for six thousand drips. I think I would have, eventually."

"You would have," Vorulsht agreed.

"Inalten always inactivate themselves eventually. Keeping them busy prolongs their lives. I was surprised how long you remained idle but active. I thought you were simply processing your trauma."

"Why did I kill that boy?" I asked.

"I never understood. Was that the correct decision?"

"No. But it was a decision you were conditioned to make. You didn't know what you were doing, but your programming flagged it for review."

"I see. Is that why I cannot forget it?"

"No. The reason you can't forget it at this point is because it has been stuck in your cache so long that removing it will leave an intolerably large absence in your stream of consciousness. Your internal processes understand this, even if you do not, and so when you self-modulate your memories you sometimes revisit that scene."

"Oh." I was silent.

"Thank you for the explanation."

"Do you want to know what you really are, Tal? What the undead were meant to be?"

"Will it change anything?"

"Only your understanding of how the world works."

"Then no." I paused.

"Or at least. Not yet." He nodded.

"Tal. You have to make them afraid for their lives. They have to believe that coming to the shelter is the only way to be safe. If you do not, if they stay above ground, they will die. If you have to kill a few to save the many, then," he paused.

"I am such a cruel father, to give you this choice. If you must kill a few to save the many, then it is your choice to kill or to kill. The only question is how many you kill."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes. That is why I started to save the world. I did not change my mind when I said no to you. But I acknowledged the possibility that I might change my mind in the future. But your words implied that there was a time limit. So I began the initial task of conquering the world. I have not yet decided to save it."

"Will you please reconsider?" Vorulsht appeared emotional. I evaluated his facial features, his tone of voice, and his body language.

"You care if I save the world or not."

"I am desperate to save as many souls as I can."

"I do not care if they live or die."

"I do."

"And you have asked me to reconsider."

"I have."

"I have proven that I can say no to you. Now I will prove that I can say yes. You say that they must be driven underground. I shall drive the people of this world underground. Will that make you happy?" His spirit embraced mine.

"Oh yes, yes, thank you, son, thank you!" He pulled back, and he was light and spirit once more.

"Please, try not to kill too many of them."

"I shall do as I deem necessary to complete the task."

"I know. I know. Thank you, Tal." And then he was gone. His spirit put its memories in the crystal, and they were whisked away. Curious, I split my consciousness and sent a version of myself to follow.