“You have an odd idea of both,” I tell Palamedes. It doesn’t occur to me to question his self-identification. He carries with him, about him, through him, and into his surroundings (even within my dream?) a strange sense of the concrete. He affects reality around him.
Maybe that’s what makes a god – being more real than the other beings about him.
(How does that relate to the Keynomes? Who knows? Maybe I’ll ask him, if I get the opportunity.)
“Do tell,” he says, taking another sip from the goblet.
Cheap parlor tricks. Ways to make me feel cowed and less powerful.
“Well, you’ve been haunting her dreams. Stalking her. Terrorizing her. You’ve been pressing yourself where you’re not wanted. You don’t take ‘No’ for an answer. You entered her body, made her do what she didn’t consent to doing.”
That low flame of anger I usually keep banked in myself flares up. “Tell me how that doesn’t make you a rapist.”
I’ve not seen a god go pale before.
I don’t recommend it.
Something great and terrible is before me, over me, all around – great power, great pain but a hairsbreadth away, the burning of flame and the rictus sear of lightning and the sickening impact of hammering force and –
He’s standing in front of his divan, fists clenched to his side, but already relaxing – his expression of raw fury slipping away like shadow under a spotlight. “My – apologies, Miss Chin.” He gives the least movement possible to sketch a bow. “Anger ill-becomes, even in the face of ignorance and taunts. That is not the sort of … discussion I sought with you, and it shames me to have even …” He shakes his head. “In way of recompense --”
He gestures to the small table with a goblet upon it, now sitting beside my divan. I’m tucked as far against its back as I can, hands clenching deep into its upholstery, heartbeat pounding in my throat, gorge rising with it, barely holding my body fluids in –
I can’t even curse. I feel like my brain is literally rebooting from the terror.
I don’t get scared. I do get scared, but I control myself through it. I do get scared, but this experience took that to a whole other level.
I want to shriek. I want to cry. I want to gibber and hide. I want to knock that goblet to the marble floor, to see it shatter into a million pieces. I want to tear out my eyes. I want to wake up. I want to punch him in the face. I want –
Daph. I am here – or he is here – because I want to help her.
“F – f --” I try again. “I – stand by – my – question.” My voice sounds like I’ve been screaming for an hour or two.
He nods, sitting carefully down. “Of course you do. And as much as it disgusts me, I will answer it. I owe it to you for my improper behavior.” He takes a deep breath, sighs again. “From your limited perspective – and your own experience-driven blinkers – I can imagine how you would see it that way. And I suspect my assurances that my motives – and actions – are so different from how you frame them, will not assuage your anger. Any more than my --” He shrugs. “-- gaffe here has done so.” He raises his eyebrows.
He’s correct. I’m still angry. Getting angrier by the moment as the terror ebbs, at what he did to me.
I have to control that anger, as a spike of panic plunges through it at what not doing so might lead to again. Control the anger. Use it. “No. Not in the least. Maybe --” I swallow, against a dry throat. “Maybe the opposite.”
He nods, and smiles. “Very human. Of the most admirable type. I’ve known so many --” He shakes his head. “All right. How to … translate it for you …”
“Don’t … patronize me …”
“Please, do have a drink.” He gestures again. “No, it’s not patronizing, as you mean it. Being a god before a mortal – even a hyper-genius, perhaps especially a hyper-genius – is all about being very, very careful about how to present, how to keep the power of what we say, what we do, what we reveal, how we act – how to keep that power from injuring, killing, or worse.”
“We … cannot handle … the truth?”
“Ah, I know that movie reference.” I stare back at him. “In short, yes. Any more than you could handle my displeasure a few minutes ago. It can be literally face-melting.” He raises an eyebrow. I get that allusion, but refuse to be drawn into the game, and keep a deadpan.
He shakes his head. “At any rate, it’s difficult to relate without making it sound like I’m treating you disparagingly, as a child or a mental defective or an animal or --” He gestures. “My doing so is out of respect and care, not malice or hauteur.”
“That makes me feel so … much better.”
“Good. Now then – an explanation you will understand, accept, and even be pleased by will be … difficult.” He eyes me. “Especially since metaphors involving ‘training’ or ‘guidance’ or ‘heritage’ or ‘destiny’ will be emotionally rejected by you before you even consider them intellectually.”
I shake my head. I feel like something is rattling inside. “Try me.”
“I have not forced my will upon her. I could do so, from the perspective of what I am and what she is. But that is anathema to me. I simply … showed her today what she could do. She’s exercised her talents as my high priestess in the past, but has been more and more resistant to doing so willingly. So I --” He looks upward, as if for the words, gesturing vaguely. “-- put her to sleep for an interval. Let what should become actual, and so show herself what she can do.”
“Beating up a couple of robbers. Waking up to find their blood on her hands.”
He makes a face. “They will take from it nothing worse than scars – no worse than what you did to their compeer. Plus some time in one of your correctional institutions, which will likely be of more harm to them.”
I don’t rise to the bait. They aren’t my prisons. “You _took over her body.”
_
“I did no harm by it. The opposite, in fact. Her use of my touch saved the life of the clerk they had pistol-whipped. Her use of the strength I gave her averted other crimes, other assaults, other deaths they may have caused.”
“You should have known how she would react. She’s not cut of that mold.”
“But she is. I have – I have known her lineage for time out of mind.”
_Ah. That’s an important clue. So let’s not overreact it. _
I turn to the goblet. My mouth is still dry. It looks like clear water. Do I trust it?
Do I trust Palamedes? No. But, then, I know his power is far beyond me. So poisoning or drugging me seems largely pointless. Unless it’s for some ineffable purpose that my mere mortal brain would 'splode upon understanding.
I take a drink. It’s clear, refreshing, has the barest hint of citrus, and a floral nose. I take two more sips.
“So – this is a family thing for her?”
He shakes his head. "More complex than that. She is descended from a Celtic clan I once knew, and vice-versa. But reincarnation plays a role, too. And other factors in the world – the alignment of the stars, the movement of certain Keynomes within the planetary crust … " He pauses, then adds, “Even some actions by you and your merry band of adventurers.”
Shit. “What did we do this time?”
“You averted a certain event that would have necessitated pushing this even harder and faster. You also awoke something that she will eventually need to fight to save … a lot of people.” He wags his head to either side. “Humanity makes the future way too complicated to predict clearly. One of the things I like about you.”
I ignore that. “Any particular responsibility I carry here?”
“Always with you about personal responsibility. What if I told you that last week you said something that will cause someone to take an action three years from now that will eventually lead to humanity spanning the stars in a great empire?”
“I’d say I’m not interested in founding an empire if I can help it.”
He smiles. "And that’s a reason I like you."
“I don’t flatter easily.”
“Of course you do. Just not through blatant, clearly self-serving complements.”
I wave it away. “But humanity finding its destiny through the stars is … cool.”
He nods. “Of course, that brings its own temptations, its own sins, its own wars and tyrannies and hatred and --”
I wave that away, too. “I can’t control that. Hell, I can’t control what I ‘said last week.’ But you’re dodging the question.”
"You asked about lineage and heritage."
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re harassing Daph, and what I can do to stop it.”
“Saying you can’t isn’t going to work.”
“No.”
“She’s needed.”
Dammit. “That’s her choice.”
“Her being needed is not her choice. It’s a fact.”
“Her choosing how to respond is.”
“At some point – is it?”
I take a breath. Let go. “What does freedom mean to you?”
He grins. “But also joy.”
“Conscription is joyful?”
“No, but – I’m a god, not an avatar. ‘Greater Good’ arguments are always painful, but not out of the question. It’s always a matter of perspective.”
“Which I can’t understand, conveniently enough.”
"Do bear in mind, Miss Chin, that I came to you."
“Why?”
“To avert your interference. To solicit your assistance.”
“And why in my dreams?”
He leans back, closing his eyes for a long moment. He takes a sip from his goblet. “Our … reality, if you will, can cause damage to a plane such as yours. Manifesting directly, even in the limited forms we once did, is an unacceptable risk. Thus we talk in dreams, in visions, in the whispers of leaves and the sighs of breezes, in --”
“Right.” And I’m to assume it’s won’t not can’t_. Later for that, though._ “And that’s part of why you need people like Daph.”
“Yes. The priesthood manifests our will, without our getting our hands dirty.”
“That’s not an encouraging way to put it.”
“By which I mean, not ending up with the shattered remains of Earth on our hands.”
“Ah.” I take another sip myself. I notice the level’s not going down. Nice trick. But it’s all tricks. I shake my head. “I don’t buy it. It always seems to come back to ‘You’ll never understand, we’re immensely powerful, but we conveniently can’t do this other stuff.’”
“In so many words.”
“Except they don’t mean anything. They don’t satisfy. They don’t explain. They ask for an act of faith.”
He chuckles. “That does seem to be what we’re best at these days.”
“But you haven’t been able to convince me of it, who has no stake in the matter aside from vague warnings about the future, and a friendship in the present. How can you convince Daph, whose very future and life are at stake?”
He nods, but says nothing.
“You have tried to convince her, haven’t you?”
He stays silent.
“Or … did you just order her? Then cajole her? Then tempt her? Invade her dreams? Give her orders?”
He shrugs.
“Jesus Christ, are you that dim? Do you even understand what she’s about? Why she’s reluctant to become your living weapon, or however you want to frame it?”
“‘High Priestess of Joy and Freedom, fighting for those who need defending from Evil and Oppression.’”
“Yeah, that’s not something you order people to do.”
He slams a hand down on the divan. I start, but don’t try to hide under mine. He holds the hand up apologetically. “Once – once mortals were more willing to do our will, to accept our rewards and act on our behalf.”
I roll my eyes. “Once people lived in shit and had an average life expectancy of thirty. Between infant mortality, lack of dentistry and anaesthesia and germ theory, amid famines and plagues and hostile tribes and wild animals and vermin and everything else, people leapt to anything you could give them. You didn’t need to actually make your case. You didn’t need to understand. You just – gave orders and an option to escape from where they were.”
“We only wanted --”
“Today,” I continue, over him, “people have more choices. I mean, you can certainly find vast swathes folk living in desperate enough circumstances to feel the same way. Global economic injustice and superstition and international power games and Big Agro and the like – they maintain those areas of misery for much of the world. And even in this ostensibly First World nations, there are people with no choices who will jump at any gang or divine sponsor who offers them power or three hots and a cot. But for someone like Daph? Her options are relatively endless. Your orders aren’t freedom from those things for her – they are servitude. She needs to be convinced, not just shown a less crappy way to live.”
He takes a long, heavy breath, lets it out. “And your suggestion, Miss Chin, in your infinite wisdom?”
“Just … talk. Better yet, listen. Listen to what she wants, what she dreams of, her goals, her aspirations. Hers. Decide first if what you ask is more valuable than that. Then tell her about it. Explain your thoughts. Leave the choice to her.”
He looks at me stone-faced. “And if she chooses otherwise?”
“Then stay true to your goddamned principles. Find someone else. Think outside the box. Tweak those factors. Find some other sucker to recruit. Otherwise, you’re just building an army of slaves. And at the risk of seeing your Scary Face again, I don’t think that’s what you want.”
He nods, slowly. “It’s not ideal. So much time has been lost. But … it might be done.” He raises an eyebrow, looking at me over the brim of his cup. “Perhaps you would make a better priestess yourself, Miss Chin.”
I smirk. “I think you want someone a bit more respectful.”
“You’d be surprised. I’ve known – some independent spirits. Some of them among your ancestors.” His eyes lock on mine. “On your mother’s side.”
My mother. Goddamnit.
I decline to rise to bait, cursing him as I do. “Not interested.” A thought occurs. “Besides, I’ve seem behind the veil,” I say, an uncontrollable shudder rattling my body. “Anything I did would be colored by that. I’d be serving as much out of fear as agreement with whatever your ideological bent is.”
He chuckles. “Point taken. Another reason to regret my lapse of control.” He nods. “Very well, I’ll talk with Daph as you suggest. And you’ll support me in this?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t mistake me, Palamedes. I support you approaching Daph that way. I don’t in the least support Daph agreeing to what you have to offer.”
“You’d … oppose me?”
“It’s her choice, but I’ll try to convince her against it.”
He looks hurt. “But … why?”
“Because for all your vague talk of future threats and your self-proclaimed love of ‘freedom and joy,’ I just see another tyrant looking for a way to suck followers into his service. Recruiting is better than conscription, but I can agree with that principle while arguing against someone signing up with the friendly, smiling recruiting sergeant.”
He frowns at me. It’s a serious frown.
A penny drops. “That’s – what this was all about? That was the reason for your invading my dreams? You wanted to recruit me? As an ally? To persuade my friend?”
“You have built up an influence with her. She trusts you.”
“You want me to betray that trust.”
He looks offended. “Of course not. I expect you to agree with me. To acknowledge not just a call to license and free agency, but to duty. To honor. To obligations to those beyond individual self-interest and fear.”
I close my eyes a moment, then open them. “Duty is imposed from within, not from without. Honor from others may or may not be congruent with it, but honor is external. A sense of duty must be what one has. Forcing it … is the opposite of honor.”
He stands. “I would not have you as an enemy, Miss Chin.”
“Too late.” I stand, too. I’m taller than him, or I was, but it doesn’t look that way now. “I resent the way you pushed her around. How it took talking to me to convince you that engaging in persuasive conversation was the moral course. How you’ve been nothing but alternatingly bullying and dismissive during this entire dream. How you invaded my dreams in the first place, and that just to recruit me to your cause.”
Palamedes takes a breath. “You have something to lose in this, too.”
“What? You just told me you can’t directly interact with earthly affairs. Are you going to start giving me bad dreams, too? Because that’s something I can do something about.”
“I can do more than that.”
Fear ripples through me. “You could destroy me, I guess.” I know. “Are you that kind of asshole, then? Because I think you said you weren’t.”
“I speak only of telling the truth.”
“You said that’s what would destroy me.”
“In this case, I mean a bit more metaphorically, though no less painfully. You are not the only one I can talk with.”
I frown at him.
“Daphinas – Daph, as she now called. I can talk with her.”
“That was kind of my suggestion.”
“I can tell her of your deception.”
My body tingles cold. “Meaning?”
He steps toward me. “Alycia Chin, not Alice Chan. Daughter of notorious, bloodthirsty science terrorist Dr. Achilles Chin. Hiding from just retribution for your own many crimes.” His eyes lock on mine. “So much blood on your hands. The crime lord. The accountant. So many others, directly by your actions, in the briny depths – or others, more indirectly.” His nostrils flare. “How do you think Daph will care for any of that? How closely do you think she will listen to your advice after that – let alone want you as a ‘friend.’”
I’m silent.
“I do not wish this, Alycia, truly,” he says. “I told you, I don’t want to be enemies. I care for Daph, even as you do. I care for your good, as well. I long for the good for all, the best for all, each and every individual, as much as you believe you long for them. If you cannot be an advocate for my cause – for the good of humanity – then, I beg you, back down. Stay silent. Allow what will happen to happen.”
“You,” I say softly, “are an asshole.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Shit runs downhill, humans say. I’m sorry if that truth pains you, Alycia. But I am doing this for your own good. And Daph’s. And, most importantly, the world’s.”
“I --”
“Enough.” He’s taller than me, now. Towering above the marble dais. “You are freed from your dream. Take comfort in your rest, and I know you will awaken refreshed – and so act wisely.”
I bow my head.
And I sleep.
[to be continued]
author: *** Dave H.
url: https://app.roll20.net/forum/permalink/6956497