Ah… normality. It’s been eight years since I felt it last.
I was the manager of TPP, or the Terran people’s postal service. I never wanted anything materialistic, just the simple pleasures of hitting other places here and there throughout the year.
I had a visit to Edindon planned for the winter; it was only eight days away... my sodding luck! I thought and let out a sigh.
My world, Terra, was filled to the brim with all the good stuff, like Cranky Jay’s Havre Bites and Fizzay Pops, every flavour you can savour!? Nothing like a bottle of Loichee crème to wash your meal down with.
As I was rambling, it drew the attention of a nearby Impie. Friendly bunch, despite the ever-so-slightly unnerving grins and continuous bouncing on those powerful spring legs. Are you sitting here thinking… Impie’s? What illegal things are you on, mate?
I have not consumed anything illegal or questionable, pal; we have new neighbours here, thanks to the BIG collision of two thousand forty! Rizianity, Ulam, Daism, Hanuism, and Bodusm had the right idea of praying to invisible deities. They went and bloody showed themselves and disappeared in almost the same amount of time! … Well, at least that’s what it felt like, but it’s hard to count time when faced with an incoming disaster.
It was surprising that a few hundred gods were far from special. Can you believe there was a god of sauces, for example? “I definitely did NOT,” snorted Kungle, one of the Impies bouncing around manically near a delectably tempting red Tammaro plant patch growing in the fields.
“Good to see you out and about, Kungle. Hope the wife is well.” A quick nod, and off he goes, bouncing on his merry way.
The god among gods… Serilia. She was the very thing the religions preached and prayed to, given flesh. The Creator of all we know, the world we live in, the fabric of reality… a surprisingly poor health and safety executive.
Her technicians fell asleep watching the primordial CCTV, or Circumventing-Calamity-Transcendental-Vision for the uneducated.
Like normal CCTV cameras, only instead of watching your auntie Maria’s store in the neighbourhood, it’s making sure nothing blows up or is consumed by some notorious unnamed space monster… That sort of thing.
That was a big OOPS for us on Terra and our new friends over on Malicore, the planet adjacent to us that Serilia muttered at during my reincarnation like a broken record, “Weren’t supposed to know each other existed.”
A list that the gods wrote and agreed on, though it's mostly focused on Heavenly Rule Numero Uno: they cannot join the space club until they earn the privilege to do so.
Serilia and the other gods claimed they ‘gave their all’ to fix the hot mess, merging worlds instead of rebuilding back the way they were, which doesn’t exactly give that impression.
“Terrahuumes, my beloved bunch, you were destined for eternal peace. I made your world soft as mallow after I spent a few million years getting over my ex, Mark, and creating some rather inhospitable locales.“ C’mon, I cannot keep showing you how to fix the CCTV. Lia, you do not have to worry about Mel Belpheen from Godly Relations; she is just a friend. It was rude not to comment on her Astralgram page.”
I have no idea what any of that meant, and since the great and mighty rebuilt me, starting with my ears, THEN proceeded to knit the pieces together, leaving my mouth until the end, I couldn’t exactly ask her to repeat it.
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Who would have thought the gods hand-knit all the races?
The gods had a club in the far-far back days, every third Muundeh throughout the year, where they built up thousands of us at a time, eventually planting them down to go off their merry way.
Slowly, my vision returned. The walls, floors, and ceilings shifted, twisted, and turned continuously. These were not meant for ‘simpletons’ viewing.
The only thing in the room not making me want to impale my eyes was the curious golden tin floating mid-air. It radiated a gentle, glowing warmth as it was opening and closing. When I was functional enough to move a little, I glided over to take a better look. Some sort of branding on the side of it:
‘Piripirihelios Inc - suns out, buns out.’
Serilia noticed my gaze and bellowed.
“PiriPirihelios was the name of my cousin, a genius designer but a meanie to be around. The aftermath of an Omega-tier giant star going supernova from one of his drunken party games gave out some fantastic materials. Stardust made needles and threads; let us gods make every race across the cosmos; isn’t that amazing!"
Nope! It’s not easy hearing your entire existence was hand-built by nutjobs.
“Well, now you are all ready to go, my special little sausage. Make sure to accept your newfound gift before you leave, the nice shiny sentient system 2.0… New and improved, go on, start selecting!”
A blue window formed and grew in front of my eyes. It began scanning, eventually causing little boxes to automatically fill it up with stats and descriptions. Like one of those character screens in an RPG game. Hmm, Name…
Examining myself, it was noticeable for sure; I’m looking a little more athletic and packing a little less festive girth around the waist since I was rebuilt.
How could this look down the line? Hovering over the screen and pressing various buttons. Hmm, esquire class ‘uses swords and shields’; sounds kinda cool.
Remembering everything that had led up to this point, however. Nah, I'm good, I thought. Taking deep breaths In…out…
“I cannot accept this; I just want my normal life back.” The words sternly exited my mouth.
“I just died, then was rebuilt before my own eyes, and now I feel pressured into going along with the idea of this ‘Sentient System’ on me?”
