"Wanted: God. Chapter Three" by Garon E. Whited

James’ face was a study.  He blinked at Corym and considered his next words carefully.

                “Why would someone want to kill God?”

                “I do not know.  He has ruled since the beginning of Time, and none have ever given challenge.  It is the way of things.”

                “Until now,” James observed.

                “Yes.  Until now.”

                “All right, the basic questions are, as you noted, ‘Who?’ as well as ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’  Do we at least know where and when?”

                “God was found beside his favorite pool,” Corym replied, “by one of the arhelu.”

                “What’s an ‘arhelu’?”

                “You recall the servants in my garden?”

                James winced, thinking of the dark-haired girl.  “Yes.”

                “They were once human, and mortal.  Now they are the servants of the gods, and they are arhelu.”

                “Lovely.  Right.  So.  Let me think a minute.”

                James regarded the Tower of Sight and considered what to do.  Meet the gods, look at the world, investigate the death of God…

                I wonder, James thought, if I could just go home.  I also wonder what it means that I didn’t even think of that idea until just now.

                “How far is it to where God died?”

                “Two or three hours’ walk.”

                “That settles it.  The Tower of Sight, first.”

                They resumed walking and continued talking.

                “So tell me more about how God died.  Was he wounded?”

                “No.  He is whole, and might be mistaken for one who but sleeps, save only that there is no life within his body.”

                “I take it that he’s never stepped out of his body and gone wandering around without it?”

                “Not to my knowledge, no.”

                “Have you tried to find his spirit—assuming that it’s out wandering around?”

                “No, my lord—that is, James.  If he is… ‘out,’ as you say, then he knows where he is.  Even if he is lost and does not wish to be found, then he is beyond my reach.”

                “And if he’s out and about because someone wants him out of the way?”

                “Then that someone knows where he is, and he is not lost.”

                “He might not be lost, just hidden, is that what you’re saying?”

                Corym looked thoughtful.

                “That is true.”

                “I thought you were Lord of the Hidden Things.”

                Corym paused and extended both hands, reaching into the air.  He remained still for several heartbeats, not even breathing, and then relaxed.

                “I am sorry, but God is not hidden or lost.”

                “Fair enough,” James replied, and began walking again.  Corym fell into step beside him.  “So God is dead; that much is established.  Any idea how it was done?”

                “None.”

                “Poison?”

                “What can poison a god?”

                “If I knew, I wouldn’t have to ask.  What, in general, can kill a god in the first place?”

                Corym shook his head.  “Nothing of which I am aware.  We are immortal and eternal, as unchanging as proud Zera herself.”

                “And you sound like a broken record,” James added, muttering.

                “Here is the entry to the Tower,” Corym offered.

                The Tower of Sight was a narrow spire of stone, seamless as a concrete wall, smoother than a windowpane.  It glinted in the sunshine as James craned his neck back, then farther back, trying to see the top.

                “It looks pretty narrow,” he observed.

                “It is little more than a winding stair,” Corym informed him.

                “Great.  What keeps it from snapping in the middle?”

                “It is a building of the gods, and—”

                “—immortal and eternal,” James said, in unison with him.  “Right.  I’m going to quit asking stuff like that, I swear I am.  Let’s go.”

                Inside the tower door, there was a spiral stair.  The tower itself was nothing but a wall around the staircase.  James allowed Corym to lead, and the two began climbing.  After ten minutes of whirling around, James called a halt.

                “My lord?” Corym asked.

                “I’m tired,” James panted.  “I don’t recall the last time I walked up so many stairs.  I usually take the elevator.”

                “Beg pardon?”

                “Elevator,” James repeated.  “It’s a big box attached to cables, motors, and counterweights.  You get in, you push a button, and it takes you up or down to whatever floor you want.”

                Corym nodded.  “I see.  We have no such.”

                “I guessed.  Divine stamina doesn’t need the things.”

                “Exactly.”

                “Great.  I’m starting to understand things, here.  I’m not sure that’s a good sign.”  James sat down on the stairs and wiped his forehead.  “Remind me again why we’re going to the top of this blasted tower?”

                “You wished to look over all the world?”

                “Right, right.  I’m playing tourist.  Got it.”  James sighed and climbed to his feet.  “I should expect a few inconveniences, being a tourist.  At least the water seems okay.”

                “Water?” Corym asked, puzzled.

                “Skip it.  Lead on.  I’ll do my best to keep up.”

                “Might I inquire as to your difficulty?” Corym asked.  “Why are you tired, Lord?”

                James considered the question.  If he was God, then he should have divine stamina, and it worried Corym that such did not seem to be the case.

                “I’m new to this place,” James replied, honestly enough.  “I’m not used to your world, you know.  And I told you to call me ‘James’.”

                “Ah,” Corym sighed, relieved.  “I hope you adapt to this world quickly.  James.”

                “So do I,” James muttered, under his breath, as the two continued to climb.

                *   *   *

                James flopped to the flat roof of the tower and lay there with an air of one grimly determined to be unconscious.  His legs were numb and his breathing labored.  His hair was matted with sweat.  A desk job had robbed him of the stamina of youth, and hundreds of feet of stairs had taxed what remained into oblivion. 

                Corym sat on the parapet and watched him, concerned.  A moment later, Corym offered him a wet, cold cloth.  James accepted it without a word and wiped at his face and wrists with it.

                “Perhaps some great exertion slew the Lord of Zera?” Corym offered, hesitantly.

                “I buy it,” James gasped.  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a little nap, now.”

                “I shall be pleased to await my… ah… that is, I will certainly excuse you, James.”

                “Good,” James replied, and closed his eyes.

                *   *  *

The world hovered in a sphere of crystal.  It was as flat as a bar of metal, but intricately sculpted with all the art of wind and water and stone.  Twin sides, one dark, one light, mirrored each other in geography.  A crystal ball, blazing light and blazing black by turns, rolled forever around the inside of the greater sphere, shedding bright and dark on each half of the world.  Chasing it, a smaller orb did the same with lesser magnitude.

Fall… fall closer to the world than this omniscient vantage, and see more details.  Here are the continents, great landmasses set like bricks in the wet clay of creation.  Here are the oceans, great bodies to mark the boundaries of land.  Here a range of mountains to help mix the air as it circulates.  Here a river to water dry plains.  Here a desert, for contrast.  Here a jungle, for color.

Closer still…

Roads, the work of mortal hands, mark tenuous connections, thin channels for the economic blood of nations.  Cities, like clusters of children’s blocks, raised up by thought and labor and that tiny spark of divine power given to those who possess souls.  Each city a microcosm of the nation that formed it.  Each nation a reflection of its tiny corner of the world.

Now change the perspective, change the view.  See the material give way to the spiritual.  Watch the shifting of the colors of nations as they negotiate and bargain and struggle.  See the flows of materials, money, men, favor, power… watch as the blood of mortals flows in the great cycles, from the earth, to each other, back to the earth.

Draw back, draw back.  See the grand design again.  The whole world abounds with life, circling and cycling.  The world is a living thing, eating, excreting, sleeping, waking, breathing, singing.  The design is the same, though the details change with the scale.  From the cycles of the winds in the sky to the cycles of breath in the tiniest of creatures, the patterns are the same, the purpose is the same.  Life is everywhere.

And with it, death.  The dark side of living, the dying.

Flip the world, see the other side, and watch the darker parts of everything given form.

How many gods have built worlds?  How many signed them, sealed them, set them in motion and watched, complacent?  How many live and breathe within their worlds, active participants, perhaps even rulers?  Have any of them welcomed Death?

Welcome or not, Death always seeps in.

Here, it is welcome, albeit with reservations.  Instead of resisting, it has half the world, the dark half.  There the darkness has its own life, its own cycles.  Rather than see it seep into a perfect creation of Life, here Death has a place.

Death is not content, of course.  Wherever there is Life, it will destroy it.  But Death is also patient… and, in its own way, amused.

*  *  *

James opened his eyes and looked up at the sky.  He noticed, for the first time, that the sky above Zera was completely free of any clouds.

No wonder there are no gutters, he reflected.  It never has to rain.

“James?” Corym asked.  James sat up, slowly.  His legs protested, but he no longer felt tired.

“Yep.”

“Are you satisfied with your examination of the world?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your examination of the world,” Corym repeated.  “While your body slept.”

“I had a dream,” James admitted.

“Indeed.  You used the Tower of Sight to view all the world at once.”

James glanced around, looked over the edge of the parapet.  It was a grand view.  There was no sign of a horizon, however.  The world faded into misty obscurity beyond a hundred miles or so.

“I suppose I did,” he replied, slowly.

“Might I inquire as to your thoughts, James?”

James worked his way to his feet, stretching his legs and popping his back as he did so.

“I think it’s an unusual world.  It’s flat, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.  Is it no so in your own world?”

“No.  In my world, it’s round.”

“This one is shaped more like a rectangle,” Corym observed.

“No, not like a coin, but round like a ball.”

Corym frowned at this, thinking.  James could tell what wheels were spinning in Corym’s head.  The next question came as no surprise.

“So… how does that work?  Do things slide to the middle?  Or to the poles?”

“Everything gets pulled toward the center, but the ground is in the way.”

“It seems like a waste of material.  You could flatten it out and make a much larger area.”

“It doesn’t work that way.  Trust me.”

Corym shrugged.  “Very well.  When next shall we do?”

“I’m thinking,” James replied, still stretching his legs.  “I guess I’d like to see where God died, but I’d really rather not walk that far.  Can you have that chariot you were talking about waiting for us at the bottom of the tower?”

“But of course.”

“Great.  Let’s head back down.”

They wound around the winding stair again, pausing twice for James to rest.  Corym had a chariot waiting when they emerged from the Tower of Sight.  It was a simple, two-wheeled affair, lacking any sort of animals to pull it.

A man, dressed in a close-fitting robe of solid black, was also waiting for them.  He seemed heavily built, with broad hands and shoulders.  His eyes were dark.

“Good day,” he offered, his voice pleasantly deep.  Corym ignored him and mounted the chariot.  James paused.

“Hi,” James offered.

“James,” Corym began, but the man cut him off.

“I am pleased to meet you, James,” he said, and extended a hand.  James took it, shook it, released it.

“Nice to meet you, too.  I didn’t get your name.”

“Which one do you prefer?” he asked.  “My divine name, or one of the ones mortals know me by?”

“I haven’t heard them, so I can’t decide,” James answered.

“I’m known as Death,” the man replied.  “Some of them call me that.  The majority of them are calling me ‘Darkness,’ these days.  Makes for some interesting interactions with the others here on Zera, let me tell you.”

“I’d imagine,” James agreed, mystified.  “So you’re Death.  As in the Death.  The ending of all life kind of death?”

“That I am,” he replied, amused.

“Pleased to meet you socially,” James offered.  Death laughed.

“You’re certainly taking it well,” Death replied.  “Most people don’t want to ever meet me.”

“You’re not carrying the scythe.  It sends the wrong message.  It puts people off,” James advised.  Death chuckled again.

“I don’t carry it with me on social calls.”

“Make a lot of those?”

“I’m afraid not.  Too busy.  But the ascension of a new god to the throne of the gods is worth a little extra effort.”

“I don’t suppose you could tell me who killed God?”

“It wasn’t me,” Death assured him.  “I don’t kill anyone.  I’m for what happens after.”

“Fair enough.  Am I on your schedule?”

“Yes.  Everything is.”

“And there’s some sort of rule about telling me when it is, right?”

Death smiled.

“Figures,” James replied.  “So, what can I do for you, Death?”

“Nothing much.  I just wanted to stop by and greet the new Lord of Zera.  All I know is that you’re going to die, someday; I thought I’d learn a little more before that happens.”

“I guess everyone is going to be curious about me,” James admitted.  “Mind giving me your first impression?”

Death pondered for a moment, arms folded, one hand stroking his chin.

“You’ll do,” he stated.  “Mind you, most of the others won’t see you like I do.”

“How do you see me?  Or do I want to know?”

“I see you,” Death said, smiling.  “I know the day and the hour of your demise, too.  You could think of it as having some inside information on that score.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Death suggested.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Good.  It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise.  Anything you need while we’re here?”

Death looked startled.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you’ve been very polite.  I get the impression that you and Corym are the exceptions to the rule around here.  Since you’re polite, I’m being polite back.  Anything I can do for you?”

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever asked me that,” Death admitted.  “No, but thank you.”

“No problem.  Feel free to drop in and say hello anytime—socially.”

Death gave James a peculiar look.

“You don’t mind talking to the one who will be taking you away once your life is over?”

“You’re not the one who will end it, right?”

“Right.”

“Then why should I mind?”

Death turned to Corym.  “I’ll remember not to underestimate your power,” he stated.

Corym nodded slightly, wary.

“Good-bye, James,” Death offered.  “I’ll take you up on that offer to stop in, sometime—socially.”

“I look forward to it,” James replied.  “Have a good day.”

Death strolled away and James stepped up into the chariot with Corym.  Corym stared at James.

“What?” James asked.

“That is the ending, the final destination of all things, the ultimate negation of being,” Corym informed him.  “You do not fear it?”

“He was very polite.”

Corym continued to stare.

“Well, he looks just like some guy I might meet on the street.  Hell, he’s some guy I did meet on the street!  It’s like meeting someone in plain clothes who claims to be a king.  He looks like a regular guy, he’s acting like a regular guy, but his name just happens to be King Alfa Romeo Romano—call me ‘Rom.’  How am I supposed to react?  Run screaming for the hills?”

Corym looked after the retreating figure of Death for a moment, pondering.

“Can we get going?” James asked.  “I’d like to see where God died.”

Corym shook himself and turned to face the front.  He tapped on the chariot’s rail and it rolled forward, exactly as if drawn by a team of horses.

“Good trick,” James observed.

“It is the chariot of Melakos the Wise, a great magician among mortals.  It has been lost for several hundred years.”

“Ah.  And not likely to be found anytime soon?”

“Not while I have it here.”

“Good.  I was worried about it vanishing from underneath us.”

The ride covered a much greater distance than the walk to the Tower, but also at a much greater speed.  James’ legs felt much recovered by the time they arrived.

The structure was little more than a roof set on pillars.  Overall, it was a square some hundreds of feet on a side.  Another, smaller square of roofing was removed from the center, making the whole structure a covered area surrounding an open-air garden and pool.

Corym stepped down from the chariot and James followed.  James glanced back once and noticed the chariot was missing.  Gone, presumably, to wherever Corym had found it.

The two walked over the shaded flagstones of the covered area, their feet making small noises on the stone, then stepped into the grass of the central park.  Corym led, weaving between flowering shrubs and bloom-laden trellises to reach the pool.

James nearly ran into him when Corym came to an abrupt halt.

“Watch it,” James grumped.  “What’s up?”  He stepped to the side to look around Corym.  The scene was quite pretty, with a  large pool of clear water, edged in stone, all sparkling in the sunshine of Zera’s too-perfect climate.  There were low couches around the pool, some suitable to one person to lounge, others obviously meant for two.  No one was in sight.

James stepped around Corym and looked at him.  Corym slowly turned his head and regarded James.  Corym seemed dazed.

“Well?” James asked.  “Where’s God?”

“I do not know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I do not know,” Corym repeated.  “He—his body—was right here, beside the pool, exactly as he was when he died.”

“Maybe someone came along and moved him.  Isn’t there going to be a funeral for him, or something?”

“There are no funerals on proud Zera.”

“So… what?  You just leave the bodies where they fall?”

“This is the first such.  No one has decided what to do with the body of God.”

“And yet, it isn’t here,” James noted.  “Maybe you should ask someone what’s become of it.”

“Yes.  Yes, of course.  I just… I had not thought anyone would dare to touch the body of God.”

“Fair enough.  So ring for an ‘arhelu’ and get some answers.”

“As you say, my Lord.”  Corym summoned one of the servants of Zera, this one a small, pretty thing, barely old enough to pass the line between girl and woman.  She glided gracefully to stand before Corym and James, then knelt.

“We desire to know what has become of the body of God.  Do you know?” Corym asked.

“No, my lord.”

“Then go find out.  We will await you here.”

“As my lord commands.”  She rose, eyes still down, and backed away.

“There,” Corym said.  “We will have answers soon enough.”

James took a short walk around the perimeter of the pool.  Corym walked with him.

“It’s nice,” James admitted.  “Did God swim?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.  I’d have thought the whole walking-on-water thing would have been a problem.”

“Walking on water?” Corym asked.

“Skip it.  Trademarked miracle of another deity.”

“Ah.”

“Any of the local gods ever get up again after dying?”

“Only avatars.”

“Avatars?”

“We, as gods, are forbidden to descend to the world of mortals.  But we may send agents in our stead.  We make a being much like ourselves, invest within it a small portion of our powers, an send it down to the world to do our will.  If one is slain, we simply make another.”

“Hmm.  Could the body of God been one of his avatars?”

“No.  When slain, they instantly vanish.”

James paused as they circled the pool, regarding a round-topped pedestal covered with a cloth.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward it.

“Ah, that.  That is the world.”  Corym drew the velvety cloth away, revealing a glass ball supported on a pedestal.  Inside the glass, a flat rectangle, like a full-relief map, was revealed.  The rectangle simply floated, unsupported, in the center of the ball.  It was intricately detailed, but completely unlabeled, like a photograph taken from orbit.  A pair of spheres were apparently affixed to the interior of the ball, opposite each other.  One was brightly glowing; the other was solid black.

James stared harder as he saw tiny flashes of lightning in a storm.  Upon closer inspection, he could just make out the movement of some clouds.

“When you say that this is the world…” he trailed off.

“That is what it is,” Corym assured him.  “We are there, on the peak at the center of the world.”

James crouched down and looked up at the bottom of the world.  It was a land done in black, with a thousand different shades of it, from the seething black of the oceans to the deeper black of the land.  Clouds marched across the underworld’s surface as well, but flickered with negative light.

James rose and walked around the world, looking at it from all angles.  Yes, it looked like the vision in the Tower of Sight.

“So that central peak is Zera?”

“Exactly.  We are there,” Corym said, tapping the glass.

“Is this a real-time replica of what the world is actually like?”

Corym frowned before answering.

“This is not a replica.  This is the world.”

“What I mean is, does this miniature accurately reflect what’s actually going on right now?”

“This is what is going on,” Corym told him.  “This is the world.  We are on that peak.  If you could see more closely, you could look at us as we stand here in this garden, talking.”

“So there are replicas of people, as well?”

“No… you do not understand.  That is the world.  We are on that peak.  The mountain of Zera is beneath our feet and within the world before us.  There are no replicas.  They are the same thing.”

James regarded the world for long seconds.

“Let me see if I understand what you’re saying.  I’m standing here, on Zera.”

“Yes.”

“I’m also in this glass box.”

“Yes.”

“And a little, tiny me is standing on a little, tiny mountain, but it’s really the normal-sized me standing here, right now, on the full-sized mountain?”

“They are one and the same, yes.”

“So, while I’m out here, talking to you, we’re really inside that box, talking to each other?”

“Yes.”

“If I had a microscope—excuse me, a magical implement that allowed me to see very tiny things—I could look down at myself, standing next to a table, and see the world in there?”
“And if you could see even smaller things, you could look down into the world, here, and see yourself looking down into the world.  Look even more closely and you could see the even-smaller world and see yourself looking down into it, infinitely.  Yet they are all the one world, this world.”

James glanced up.

“Why don’t I see the glass?”

“It is the sky.”

“So, if I flew straight up?”

Corym looked puzzled. 

“Whatever for?”

“Humor me.”

“If you flew up far enough, you would hit the glass.”

“So I’d wind up touching the sky?  And looking out of the globe at all of this—which would actually be behind and beneath me?”

“Exactly.”

“I think I need another drink.”