‘A God is nothing but a consciousness trapped forever within the projection of its own
psyche’
Jal, spinning through the void, beholds the Tep, manifesting as a monolith of stone, the
vortices of its realities silent. Its smooth dull surface seems wavering and uncertain- the
source of its power is gone. The people who had made it real were all dead now- the
shockwave of the soul weapon approaches, gaining power as it travels over the deserts of
the Dreamtime.
It strikes the stone God, whose stuff scatters to nothingness, and then there is nothing. Jal
stares for a moment- something still remains, but there is no prism of reality through which
to perceive it. He was alone- even Katya was gone- had she been destroyed in the planet’
s explosion? Had she traveled to another, alien Dreamtime?
He finds himself sad for a moment, a lone consciousness in an eternity of void. Never
hungry or tired, no need for breath or water, he remains this way for a long time until he
feels nothing at all. Then he remembers- there was some part of the Tep remaining- but
how can he see it?
With a thought, a reality begins to unfold around him- desert, dunes, night, stars, and
moon. This new world wraps itself around him and he laughs in wonder- then he realizes
he’s not alone. There, not one meter in front of him is a fragment of sandstone, shiny
smooth on one side. It fits easily into his palm, this last fragment of the God of Man.
It was all here, nothing about it betraying the treasure it held. Every thought, dream, story,
artwork- every person’s experience of every day in the life of the violent beautiful Earth.
The last fragment of the hologram- the last fragment of the prison. He wants very badly to
destroy it but finds he can’t.
Jal is surprised by an urge he can’t explain- to recreate the dreamtime around this
fragment. He could absorb it into himself- create the world and life anew- create like
nothing had happened- the Creator’s plan of salvation could continue.
As Jal thinks this, a small tree begins rising from the ground, leaves golden in the full
moon. The bark is smooth like skin, wind sighing through its branches.
Almost- all it will take is a thought- a word- ‘yes’- yes to the beauty and terror of the God
man had made. Almost, but his hand closes around the stone. Recreate the prison?
Become the jailer of the madhouse of conformity- what nameless aspect of his
subconscious was trying to revolt even now? Why is his hand shaking?
Rage, at last, forms a path of fire from his brain to his hand, tendons straining as he
places his other hand over the stone. There is no one to hear his cries but himself as the
stone is crushed to dust, running between his hands. The moon goes out, the tree
dissolves to nothing, the screaming fades, and for a moment there is nothing.
#
Kat opens her eyes, trying to create new senses to understand her surroundings- there is
no way of knowing how long it would take her perception to adapt. Time itself seems inert,
so she decides to take stock of what she knows.
She knows Jal has succeeded, and that souls could have three reactions – acceptance,
transcendence, and self-destruction. The vast majority had self-destructed- the salvation
machine of the Creator had been interrupted- these souls had needed the reality of the
Tep to sustain them, dissolving in terror to nothingness.
Some merely accepted the change, as she had. There could be no gaps in the
consciousness of the Creator, of the which the Tep had been a small part- other realities
rushed in to fill the vacuum caused by the destruction of humanity’s Steppe. Kat exists
now in one of these realities, present but separate. Some of the thin shadows around her
seem to be alive, but either they don’t sense her or choose to ignore her presence.
Bright fragments of the Tep drift by- there are places where Dreamtimes overlap, and she
realizes she must be close to where her own reality had once existed. Some of the thin
shadows coalesce around the fragments, grasping them tightly as if savoring their
uniqueness. Kat takes a fragment as it tumbles past, and looking into it, sees that while
the Tep’s story has ended, Jaldeja’s has just begun- his eternity had come at last.
“Would you like to see him?”
Turning, Kat sees a small boy standing next to her.
“You’re worried,” the boy says. “Don’t be afraid- you’ll be all right. Jaldeja will be fine, too.
Come with me and see. We should bring his machine, too.” With his words, Jaldeja’s
satellite appears. “Jal wants us to bring it. He wants everyone to know it worked out for
him- he’s like me now.” The boy sees Kat’s confusion. “You would call it transcendence,”
he says. With that, he takes her to the universe that is Jaldeja.
#
Standing before Jal, Kat feels a hand close over her heart, finds it difficult to breathe.
“What have you done to him?” she says, turning on the boy. “Stop it! Let him go!”
“I haven’t done anything to Jal,” says the boy quietly. “I created him for a certain task,
which he has done, and now he creates his own reward.” Reaching up, the boy touches
Jal’s hand. “I feel bad for him- he was a child of the Tep, which he loved, but he was
created to destroy it. In a way, I suppose I am responsible- a conflicted psyche would
produce wants like this, but he could be created no other way.”
Kat stands frozen still staring at Jal. “Can he see us?”
“He can see us if he wants. I’m going to take you away now- this is hurting you.”
With that, the two of them pass into a misty forest. Standing on the edge of a cliff, they
look over a waterfall that cascades down to rocks far below.
“In one of your previous lives you were happy in a place like this,” the boy says.
“Everything you could need is here- if you want the old Jal you knew, he can be here too.
Stay as long as you like- you can move through realities at will, but if you leave, you can
come back whenever you wish- it will always be here for you. Jaldeja created his own
reward, but you’ve helped me too, so this is yours.”
The boy tries to take Katya’s hand, but she moves away. “I have to go now,” the boy says.
“You’ll never see me again- Jal was created for sadness, but you can be happy.” The
living satellite departs, its recording done, leaving to cross infinity with its tale of wonder
and despair.
Kat turns and sees that the boy is gone. Walking, she disappears among the tress and
mist.
Epilogue
He has been a doctor in the psychic infirmary for twelve years, witness to the millions of
casualties his society creates through its terror and mundanity. He doesn’t question the
order- not out loud- strict adherence to the doctrine of his ancestors is the only means for
survival, even though it turns men into creatures of panic and petty hatred.
The creatures of the infirmary are baser still; committing the most heinous crime of making
themselves useless through insanity or sickness. It is his job to make sure death doesn’t
ensue before what was needed is taken from them.
Beginning his rounds, the doctor makes his way slowly down the hexagonal hallway, pale
bodies staring at him mutely from the walls at his sides. Pausing to check condition
monitor on one of the patients, he feels the sudden urge to touch him, which was strange-
normally he took pains to avoid any contact, but now, reaching out, he touches the cool,
white face that gazes at him without expression. Glancing down, the doctor notices a pale
beam of sunlight has come through a clear section of the ceiling, casting a dim rectangle
of light on the floor.
His eyes return to the patient’s face- like all inmates in this stage of the extraction process,
his eyes never close. The doctor longs to hear him speak, but of course the patient could
not. Chemical suppressants have taken his speech- all the patients had them- they were
necessary, otherwise the wards would sound like pandemonium.
How interesting that the extracted product was blue- the bright light their scientists had
quantified so many centuries ago when their sun had started to go cold. Souls- they not
only existed, but contained great lattices of energy- it was only a matter of time before an
extraction process was devised.
But it seemed now that something had been removed which could not be replaced. The
stars grew dimmer each year- plants became fragile, their color draining. Even dreams
had become a distant static, visions painted on thin veils of wind-blown silk that grew more
transparent with each passing night.
Why did this one seem so familiar? Why did being in this one’s presence make him think
this way?
The patient raises his head- the doctor jumps back, startled.
The pale lips move. “Katya?”
Terrified beyond reason, the doctor flees down the hallway, his footsteps echoing down
the silent corridor.