Chapter Text
You are floating. Above you, the God flicks through the seconds, minutes, hours, worlds like they’re nothing. Beneath his fingers, they turn to what seems to be paper. At one, he pauses, pulls it out and inspects it. But beneath his fingers, it crumples. The God cocks his head to the side and sighs, frowning ever so slightly, then places it back into the file, but not before you see the slow spiral of smoke rising from it, above it.
“What was it?” You dare to ask. He looks up, sharply, eyes focusing on you with a precision you’re used to. It still makes you shiver- but not like it used to.
“A side project. Nothing important.” He says, and you believe it, even though you swear you can just discern the screams of people now long dead. In this place, he’s told you, you can hear everything there is to hear, or simply nothing at all. It’s all in your head.
The worlds stretch on above your heads, and you watch him work, sifting through them with an expertise that must’ve been learnt. He occasionally stops to inspect them, certain things apparently catching his eye. At one point, the God takes one look at a world and tears it into two clean halves before going back to his work. You don’t really want to think about what that means, so you don’t, instead deciding to distract yourself with more questions. He always answers those, after all, even if it’s not with the truth.
“I’ve never been here before.” You reach out, catching what seems to be a cream cloud between your fingers. It spasms then evaporates, turning to dark grey tendrils that tumble upwards into the sky. You laugh, because in the back of your mind something tells you that what you just did had never been done before by a mortal hand.
“Watch what you’re doing.” The God responds, looking briefly away from his mission to raise his eyebrows at you. He doesn’t look angry. In fact, he looks vaguely amused. “You just killed a king.”
You grin. “My mother always did tell me I was destined for greatness.”
He snorts, then goes back to his work, and your smile fades. Here you are, stood among the heavens, and you find yourself bored. He’s forbidden you from coming any closer, warning you that you’d probably ‘fuck everything up for him’ if you did. You’d agreed, because you thought it’d only take a few moments, but you’ve been here hours now, staring out across the dreary expanse of the afterlife, and your patience is growing thin.
He must have sensed it, because his head tilts up once more, a world still trapped between his long fingers. He doesn’t say anything, so you cross your arms and try your hardest to look impatient. It’s probably childish, but you have your reasons, just as he has his.
“You are a god!” You eventually call out, meeting his expressionless face with irritation you don’t really mean. “Can’t you just…God it up? Use your freaky magics!” You flail your hands to show him what you mean, weakly imitating things he’s done for you so many times before. This time, he doesn’t even smile, and you feel your stomach drop.
“Demigod.” He corrects you. Then, in a movement you could only call ‘knife-like’, he stands. He seems so tall, framed by a throne made from the same cream cloud as before, and you shrink back. He blinks once, twice, movements clean and calculated, then slowly sits. The world is still in his hands, undamaged, and he gives it another look. Then, he flings it in your direction, the moment twirling and dancing in the air before coming to a rest a meter from your head.
Not sure what else to do, you watch it with wide eyes. And you stay like that, transfixed, for what could’ve been hours. There’s no time here, he’s told you, but you can still feel it passing. When you do look up, he’s beside you, grinning and watching it with the intensity of a flame, his own eyes darting across the different moments as he takes them in.
“It’s so mundane.” He whispers, hands hovering above it like he wants to touch it. “So…useless. Insignificant, imperfect, flawed, weak.” His voice is low, but there's a fervor to it that sends a chill down your spine. He sounds drunk, and you know he probably is, on power and opportunities and ‘what ifs’ that could drive him into madness, if he hasn’t reached it already.
“I love it. It’s…perfect.” He says.
“I know.” You reply, and hide the way your heart tugs, wishing for him to one day say that about you.
-
In the darkness, three figures stood, illuminated only by the faint glow of a large machine that took up most of the room. One, the shortest, stood to the side, arms crossed and lips pressed tightly together while the other two talked. It seemed, to them, that the entire world was dead asides from those three there.
“When will it be ready?” The tallest asked, eyes narrowed and tone sharp. It was the third time the question had been asked, and it got more demanding each time. The third, the one beside the machine, merely pressed a few more buttons and shrugged, for the question was unanswerable.
“I’ve told you.” The eventual reply was said slowly, as though the speaker was bored to death, or perhaps just sad. “I don’t know.”
The tallest’s hands formed into fists, but no rebuttal or criticism was made, for that would just waste words. The scientist was a slow worker, tired and trying only for a man long dead, and ignored everything but the things tied to him. It was a sad, sad sight to behold.
So the three stood a while longer, two waiting in the suffocating darkness of the too-small room, the third slaving over a machine that filled the silence with a low hum and occasional tick. Time was lost in that small room, and a spell settled over it as time melted away, until eventually the scientist stood with a small cough, stepping back from the machine and it’s bright blue glow.
Neither of the others needed to ask to know it was done, but the words still rang clear into the silence, an announcement of their achievements, a final closure for their years-long quest.
“It’s done.” As soon as the words left eager lips, a small rumble started up. Then, behind the machine, a brighter, bluer light began to stir. Time seemed to stop, and the three watched in silence as the light flourished, turning and twisting to form a spinning circle, and as it did the rumbling became louder and louder until it was a roar. And then, when it seemed the light could grow no more, and the noise bordered on defeaning, it stopped, leaving behind only the spinning light they all understood as a portal. The portal.
And the scientist fell. Sobs of pain and joy at the sight filled the air, the most emotion they’d seen or felt for what felt like an eternity. And the shortest sneered, and the tallest grinned, for this was where the game became theirs. They wasted no time in moving towards the sobbing heap on the floor, the tallest’ hands reaching out to grasp at the shoulders of a labcoat long outgrown. The scientist turned, looking up at the two of them, the tearful joy in his bright blue eyes slowly turning to fear.
The tallest's grin turned to a smirk, the hand on his shoulder tightening considerably as another hand passed over the scientist's eyes, turning his world to darkness.
"Sleep tight, spaceman." was the last thing he heard. And sleep he did.