The incessant buzzing of Michael’s alarm on his phone woke him up. As he rolled over to snooze the alarm, he considered calling in sick for work. It was his third straight sixty hour work week, and before that it was a single fifty-eight hour week that broke the endless line of sixty hour work weeks prior to that. The promises of “more staffing” to help deal with the staffing shortage never seem to materialize. When he started as an air traffic controller ten years ago, he was an optimistic college graduate that had just completed the CTI (College Training Initiative) course, a partnership between the FAA and a handful of colleges that was designed to help streamline the hiring process and resolve the staffing shortage that was created by a combination of mass firings in the early 80’s and a mandatory retirement age of 56. Looking back, his introduction to the FAA should have been a red flag that those running the agency didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground, but he wanted the job, he loved the idea of creating order out of chaos, and loved the idea of doing something that less than .1% of Americans ever could.
In the years since, his optimism had been brutalized into a bitter cynicism, he developed a hopeless addiction to massive amounts of caffeine and nicotine, and he figured that he would have to find a way to work until he died to be able to survive because of the amount of his retirement that his two ex-wives were going to take. It was on that thought that he rolled out of bed to start his day, lighting a cigarette before even making it to the bathroom to take a piss.
Forty minutes later, Michael was on the way to work, having foregone breakfast for a cup of coffee and spite. His drive to the airport was uneventful, the one perk about working on a Saturday afternoon, he could avoid all the normal St. Louis traffic. As he drove down I-270 toward I-64 on his way out to Chesterfield, he went to ash his cigarette into the half-full QT cup. Maybe it was his sleep deprived brain, having gotten on average five hours of sleep for years on end, or some pothole that he hit at that exact moment, but his cigarette bounced off the rim of the foam cup and went spiraling into his sandal. As he jerked his foot up, he pulled his hand down but with his body working quicker than his brain, he didn’t let go of the steering wheel, forcing his 2010 Tacoma to make a sharp right turn directly into the path of the semi-truck. The last thing he remembered was seeing his pack of yellow American Spirit cigarettes flying off the passenger seat as the semi ploughed through the side of his pickup, then everything went black from him.
The next moment, Michael found himself floating in a void, an all consuming blackness that surrounded him completely. At the extreme edge of his vision in front of him was a faint white light. Yup, Sarah was right, smoking would kill him one day, he thought bitterly, then was immediately pissed that his last thought would be of his cheating ex-wife.
A deep, chest rattling laugh filled the void before a deep, melodious voice spoke “I suppose that would classify as failure to maintain control of the vehicle during an operator induced emergency”. Michael looked around for the source of the voice to find a large man, with long dark blonde hair and a full braided beard sitting on what could only be described as a throne made out of a dark grey smoke.
“So, you are the one sent to measure my soul? To decide my eternal fate?” Michael asked, a mixture of contempt and curiosity in his voice.
“No, nothing as crass as that, but I do have a need. I will tell you the task that I have need of getting accomplished. The task will not be easy, it may not even be possible. But I need someone like you, with your talents, to even have a chance of completing this task.” The being said, it’s voice seemingly coming from everywhere, including inside of Michael’s mind.
“Okay, I have questions.” Michael started, disregarding the figure’s hand that made a motion for him to wait. “First, what even are you? Second, what talents of mine do you need? I am a prideful man that honestly has very little talent outside of my professional skill set and a middling understanding of woodworking. Third, are you sure? I am controlling, self-important, stubborn and arrogant, almost to the point of being narcissistic, or past that point if my ex-wife is to be believed. What could a being powerful enough to capture my soul after my death need with someone like me?” Michael sneered at the being.
The being shifted in its throne with clear amusement before it spoke again, “I am a Primordial Being, many on your world have called me a God, or revered me as such. I have dominion over creation, there are several beings like me that have dominion over the primordial forces of the universe. You have myself, then the beings of that have dominion over spirit, integrity, death, and the astral. As far as what I need, there is a realm in which the Primordial Being over integrity wanted to experiment with and gave them a classification in which they could all see every creature’s name, basic power level, as well as quantify each other’s stats. The issue is, we also imbued that universe with magic. The sapient species being as they are, have used that magic to attempt to break or work around the system that Integrity has put in place. As the System is linked to the integrity of that universe, the reality of that universe is starting to unrival and if it continues, it will collapse.”
Michael waited a moment to make sure the being was done speaking before he spoke again, taking the moment to consider the information. “I guess turning it off and then turning it back on again isn’t going to fix this problem?” Michael said, bemused at his own joke before continuing, “Let me guess, Integrity simply wants to end the experiment before it gets completely out of hand and possibly damages, destroys or taints the other universes. But since it is you that has pulled me here, instead of Integrity; you have a vested interest in this universe, aside from it being a created thing.”
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Creation grinned at Michael and nodded his head, “I can see I chose well. Yes, I have a vested interest in this universe, I created the magic system. I have a question for you, what would you say if I told you that your technology from your universe gives you an innate understanding of the magic in the universe that we are speaking about even if you do not see it as magic but as science?” Creation asked, an almost predatory grin on his face as he studied Michael.
Michael pondered for a moment, scrunching his face as he thought. He could feel that he was on the edge of understanding exactly what Creation was talking about, but he didn’t want to assume. “Can you give me an example of what you mean by “I have an innate understanding of the magic in the universe”? I would ask you for details on the magic system, but I have a feeling that you wouldn’t be as straight forward as that.” Michael replied, still trying to put the pieces together in his head.
Creation grinned and picked up a cube that looked like it was created from polished metal and held it towards Michael, “Michael, I hold condensed energy in this hand” he said, shaking the cube slowly in Michael’s direction.
Michael stared at the cube for a moment, it looked like metal, not energy. Sure, it probably would pack a punch if hurled at someone, but that was a property of matter. Then the dots connected inside of Michael’s head and he could feel his eyes open wide before narrowing, “No. You’re not serious. You didn’t give the universe that power.” Michael was gobsmacked at the sheer foolheartedness of giving humanity that power, at least if the humans in the universe that Creation was talking about were half as power hungry and violent as those in his home universe. “Tell me that you did not give humanity the power to freely move matter and energy along the mass-energy equivalence. Please tell me that you put some bounds on that.” Michael begged, but his gut instinct told him that if there were any bounds, they were weak.
Creation looked down, and shook his head in shame and embarrassment. “No, I did not put a boundary on it, I did not expect them to ever fully grasp what it meant, it is a really esoteric concept with it only being barely understood in a vanishingly few universes. Most of the ones that come to understand it even remotely, destroy themselves within a century of it. Yours, while not imbued with a high magic, was the only one to come to understand the potential, develop theories and understand the destructive potential of that knowledge and then decide to not routinely use it as a weapon, and often use it as a source of energy.” Creation explained, “So, when the universe was created, I taught a few, some basic formulations to help focus the mind on how to manipulate energy into creating some forms of matter. In the eon since, they have expanded it beyond what I could have fathomed. They are using magic to” Creation suddenly stopped, his mouth open and trying to form words, but there was a vacant expression in his eyes. After just a moment, he continued, “Actually, it would seem that if I am going to allow you into that universe, Integrity is going to prevent me from telling you exactly how magic is being used to override and workaround The System. You will have to learn that mystery on your own.” Creation said.
“Okay, so, what do I get out of this deal?” Michael asked, with a grin.
“You get to live” Creation retorted.
“I did that once, and it wasn't as great as advertised. I only kept it because the return policy was a bit harsh. But since you need me more than I need you, here is what I propose.” Michael started, grinning feeling like he was back in the manager’s office as a union representative negotiating again, “I want a translation perk, I doubt that anyone in the universe speaks English, and if someone speaks Spanish, it has been so long since I speak it regularly that I would sound like a drooling idiot. You will need me to keep my memories and knowledge from my life, but I don’t want to be in the body of a forty year old man that mistreated his body for most of his life, I want to be in my prime. And I am going to need means, independently wealthy levels of means but with a provenance on that wealth that isn’t going to burden me away from my task, either with the authorities coming after me for ill-gotten gains or with too many responsibilities that will prevent me from completing my task. Or, and I will need knowledge of this universe I am going to be living in.” Michael said with a nod.
“And what makes you think that any of that is within my power?” Creation asked with a wry grin.
“Easy, it is all creation, of which you have domain over. You are going to create me a skill, trait or simply create the knowledge inside of me, of all the languages in the universe. You will decide to not uncreate the memories I already have. Since I am going into a new universe, I am assuming you will be creating me in that universe, so you can create me in a form that is in its prime. With that, you can create a history that allows me to have access to the wealth that I demanded, with the knowledge of the universe.” Michael said matter-of-factly.
Creation sat back on his throne for a moment and thought about it for a moment before nodding, “Those are actually reasonable requests and you are correct, they are within my power to grant you. One stipulation, you cannot speak to anyone about this conversation without me present.”
Michael nodded his head, “I have a feeling that even if you did not put some type of divine oath contract on this agreement, that that stipulation would be wise, less I look like a loon. I am familiar with how people that have divine knowledge are viewed.”
“Then we are agreed, best of luck” Creation said and then everything when black for Michael.
