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To call the last few days heavenly would be both metaphorical and literal, and King had always been good with words.
To hold her lover in her arms after years of being small enough to stand in the palm of her hand. To intertwine those boney fingers in her own. To kiss lips manifested exclusively for her and her alone.
Ascension had been a whirlwind of new sensations. Omniscience, empathy, the voices of prayers whispering endlessly in her ear. It was so overwhelming, but Missy by her side gave her something to focus on, a distraction to push the noise to the background. A boat keeping her from going under the waves.
But it wasn't meant to be this way for the eternity she had been gifted.
It was after a frolic in the Midnight, snuggled close together in her nest that Miss Mitternaucht decided it was time to end the party, so to speak.
“Dearest, these last few days have been wonderful.” She stared lovingly into her partner's eyes.
“They certainly have.” King agreed, stretching her arms above her head.
“But,” the eldest god's face shifted to a more concerned look. “Don't you think it is time to address your realm?”
King knew this conversation was coming. Her realm had been calling to her, longing for her to take her place within it. But she had been putting it off.
“With circumstances being what they were, I've been generous allowing you to stay here as long as you have. Honestly speaking, I have enjoyed having you here all to myself.” Her eyes smiled during her admission of self indulgence, then returned to a more serious expression. “But, it will do you no good to avoid tending to your domain.”
“I know, Missy. It just feels so daunting.” King admitted with a sigh.
“It will only be more so the longer you wait.” Mitternaucht warned. She placed a hand on King's shoulder. “Just remember all the advice we gave you and you'll do fine, Starlight.” She leaned in close and cheekily added, “and when you're all done, I'd love to come over for a one-to-one housewarming party.” She gave a girlish giggle.
King smiled. “Well, if that's not a good incentive, I don't know what is.”
She removed herself from Mitternaucht's side, gave her lover a tip of her hat and walked in a straight line until she left the Midnight's invisible borders.
Finding her realm took no effort at all. Only a few steps through the nebulous void between the god spaces and instinctively she followed the pull of her realm a distance until she found herself in an empty white expanse. An infinite space with absolutely nothing in it, waiting for its resident God to fill it.
And King had no idea where to begin.
“I'm gonna need some help.” She sighed.
+++++++++++++
Razzma stared at the blank abyss, then up at her recently deified friend.
“Hermana, you got a lot of work cut out for you.”
Godpoke held up Megapon, “it's a whole lotta nothin’.”
Hector couldn't shed the surprised expression on his face.
“A whole week a godhood and yew haven't manifested anything?” He shook his head. “Not to toot my own horn or nothin’, but after my ascension I put the God Complex together in under ten minutes.”
“And it looked like something someone slapped together in under ten minutes.” Razzma smirked at Hector's annoyed frown. She then looked up at King.
“So, why haven't you gotten started?”
“While I do have a talent for painting a picture with words, you were always the more visually expressive of the two of us.” King explained.
Razzma nodded understandingly, “ah, artist's block. And the other gods can't help you?”
“They told me my realm was an extension of myself. To have another god helping was to risk their influence seeping into my domain.” She looked down at them with a knowing grin.
“But there are no restrictions on getting help from mortals. And I just happen to be in the good fortune of knowing a mortal who up until recently was a god.”
Hector couldn't help but smile at her cleverness.
“Exploiting a loophole, I see. Well, if it hadn't been for the whole almost ending the world over a gell-os rage and sub-see-quint self exile, I would have been your men-tour of all things godly anyways.”
It was an unspoken tradition of the gods that the most recent entry to the pantheon would be mentored by the one who came before them. Inspekta had been taught by Cobigail, who had been mentored by Click-clack, who had learned everything from Thespius and so on. So when this past rift cycle had left a void in this chain, Miss Mitternaucht stepped in to take the role of teacher for King.
“Exactly,” said King, “and I could really use your advice. The others try to be helpful, really, but they're so far removed from their mortal lives that the way they describe things comes off as obtuse.” She kneeled down to him, an odd sight for Razzma, definitely.
“It's a good thing that I'm well known for being a-cute.” He fluttered his eyelashes, trying to look adorable. Something that would have been endearing for Inspekta, but not so much on the almost 60 year old Hector.
King still laughed at his pun. Razzma caught Godpoke silently chuckling as well. He could only roll his eyes.
Hector folded his arms behind his back. “But seriously, I'll help yew however I can.”
King stood up, eyed her guests and their surroundings.
“I guess the first thing I should do is make sure my visitors can speak with me at eye level.” She observed.
“Dat sounds like a good place to staaaaah!” Hector had started speaking only for the ground beneath him, Razzma and Godpoke to suddenly rise up like a high-speed elevator until they were chest high with King.
Razzma wobbled to keep on her feet, Godpoke had fallen onto their bottom and Hector was crouched over, tail straight, looking like a startled cat.
“A little warning next time, por favor.” Razzma requested.
“Oops, sorry!” King's features lit up pink with embarrassment, including her exposed heart. “I was only thinking about it, then it just happened.”
“That's manifestation for ya.” Hector winced at a pain in his back as he righted himself back up.
“I haven't gotten a handle on it quite yet. When I was with Missy…” King trailed off. Her eyes took on a wide, far away look. The mouths along her veil along with the mouth on her face moved as if forming words.
Then a male's voice burst forth, “Tae, my beloved, we've been together for two beautiful years and I couldn't be happier at the thought of spending all the rest of my years with you. Will you marry me?”
The voices coming out of King fell silent, but she continued to stare straight ahead, her mouths occasionally moving.
“Is she okay?” Razzma asked, giving Hector a worried look.
“This is normal, she's channeling.” He explained. “But it looks like that big one knocked her out of focus.”
He stepped to the middle of the platform they were now standing on, getting as close to King as he could without falling into the valley she had created.
“Hey, King!” He called out, snapping his fingers. “Kingy, do you hear my voice?” She blinked a few times, then looked down at him as he waved his arms. “Do I have your at-tension now?”
“Oh! Sorry.” She shook her head.
“It's all good. Ya still getting used to being omnipotent. It'll get more manageable once you have this realm set up.”
“You are okay now, right?” Razzma couldn't help but ask.
“I'm okay Razz,” King insisted,”it's more distracting than anything. Having my mind pulled in every possible direction, it's like…how to best explain it?”
“It's like you're butter and you're being spread over a warm piece of bread, melting into every nook and cranny.” Hector sighed fondly.
“Yes, that's what it feels like.” King smiled enthusiastically. Then her features turned more concerned. “Do…you miss it?”
He paused, having not expected that question.
“I miss being connected to everything. That feeling of belonging to the whole universe.” He sighed. “I guess I stopped app-ree-she-ate-ing that once I got used to it.”
He pulled a small smile to his face. “I'm happy with my choice, though. It feels good to have my thoughts to myself again.”
Except the anxious and intrusive thoughts that came to him in the dead of night. But being a god hadn't exactly stopped those anyway.
“Best to say it, Razzma.” King turned her attention to Razzma who had been listening to all this pensively.
He was startled from her thoughts, “what?”
“You have something you want to say, I could feel it before I even saw that look on your face.”
King could always tell when Razzma had something on his mind for as long as they were friends, but he was still creeped out a bit knowing she could now sense it through some kind of godly telepathy.
Razzma conceded with a sigh. “I know we talked about it before your ascension, but omnipresence, channeling, being one with the Toast of the Universe, I still worry this is all too much for you.”
“It does seem like a lot.” King agreed, “but I'm not handling it all alone. The other gods have been very supportive. And I have Godpoke and Hector. And I have you.”
“Compared to the gods, a former god or the godpoke, what can I do?” Razzma drooped her head.
“You can do a lot.” Hector told her with all seriousness on his face. “As her closest friend, yew can be her mortal anchor. Keep her grounded. Remind her of how she used to be human. Capochin was that for me, until…” he paused, wistfully. “Just don't get too devoted. Keep yourself grounded too.”
He thought back on the early days of his godhood. The support of the other gods, how Capochin's presence had helped him focus. Without them he certainly wouldn't have set up the God Complex in under ten minutes.
The euphoria of Rift energy was still buzzing through his entire being. His new body was everything he could have dreamed of: flexible, adorable, and more hands than he knew what to do with.
Down in the Grove everyone was celebrating his ascension. And here in the heavens the other gods gathered around him, admiring the newest addition to their pantheon, their family.
They celebrated with music and dancing, and he danced with them in giddy revelry until a sensation, like slipping into a warm bath, filled his mind with flickering images and distant whispers. The other gods noticed his dilated eyes and sudden stupor.
“Look out everybody, he's channeling.” He heard one god say.
“Oh, his first omniscience.” Beamed another.
He couldn't make out who was saying what, only barely registering that they were there through the layers of consciousness enveloping his mind.
“Aw shucks, I didn't look like that my first time, did I”
“Yes, you did.”
“With the drool and everything.” [The storytelling god added]
“it's my turn to coach now, right?”
He felt someone touch his shoulders. A soft voice spoke, “hey ‘speckta, can you hear me? Focus on my voice, okay.”
“Kay…” he zeroed in on the god speaking to him. Cobigail came into view, an encouraging smile on her face. “Hi Cobi.”
“Atta boy,” she praised. “Now, how many fingers do I have here?” She held up one of her hands near his face. He scanned it, then confusedly at her other three.
“On all d'hands?” He asked, still getting his bearings.
Cobigail smiled with the patience she had developed over all her years of being a teacher.
“You have a lot goin’ on in your head right now, dontcha?” She asked.
“Yeah…” he blinked a few times. “Bein’ a god feels… ting-ill-e.” He slurred, giggling, his mind drifting back into the static.
“It does, doesn't it? But we need you here with us right now, okay.” She pulled his focus back gently, as one would hold a balloon in a light breeze.
“Perhaps now would be a good time to teach him manifestation, so he can create a filter, yes.” Bauhazzo offered.
“Oh, right. Silly me. Inspekta, we're gonna practice manifestation. So I want you to watch what I do, okay.”
“Many-fest-station.” He repeated, leaning in close as she knelt to the ground.
She swept two hands over the floor of the god space, shaping it to resemble a patch of dirt before her. She pressed her two other hands in the center, as if planting a seed.
“Now picture in your mind what you want to create. I'm thinkin’ of a sunflower.”
She removed her hands and a sunflower sprouted up from the ground. Inspekta “ooooh"ed at it.
“Now you try.” She told him.
He bent down to the patch of celestial dirt, made a little mound, closed his eyes and thought of a sunflower just like the one that Cobigail had made.
He opened his eyes.
Nothing.
He stared at the empty patch of dirt, confused and disappointed.
“It's alright dear, it's only your first time trying.” Miss Mitternaucht assured him.
But, he was a god now. Shouldn't he just know how to do this?
He glared at the dirt, determined to get this right. He clasped two hands over the little mound he had made, as if trying to squeeze a sunflower out of the ground.
“Don't force it, dog.” Thespius warned. “Let it come naturally.”
“Every goddie has their own ways to creatafestation.” Huzzle Mug offered. “You'll find Spektasway with patiencetime.”
“Oh dear. It doesn't have to be a sunflower. You can make whatever you'd like.” Cobigail told him, a bit flummoxed.
He wanted to make a sunflower, just to prove he could. What sort of god would he be if he couldn't?
It didn't help that he had never seen a sunflower before coming to the Grove. The Drain didn't have many plants to speak of. It especially didn't have pretty flowers. The only thing that came out of the ground in abundance were pipes.
His mind started drifting again. There were so many prayers coming to him from the Drain.
No. Focus. Sunflower.
He felt something between his hands, still clenched together. Slowly he pulled them apart and saw…
Pipes, twisted into the shape of a sunflower. Its face looked to be made from a shower head. It's leaves and petals from flat scraps of metal, the kind of junk he was used to seeing laying about in the Drain, washed in after a storm.
It was ugly, it was unnatural, it was unexpected…
Huzzle Mug loved it.
“Ooh! Lookit! Our Hectorspector made lovelyart.” It snatched it out of Inspekta's hands and paraded it around for the others to get a closer look. “A wondersplendid first step for our babygod.”
“You did it, String-bean! Good job.” Cobigail beamed with pride.
It wasn't exactly what he had wanted to make, but their praise eased the sting of disappointment. He had made something. His first manifestation.
“Well, it's not as pretty as the one you made. And it's not as cute as this one.” He arranged several hands around his head, palms out, making himself resemble a flower.
“Aww…” Cobigail and Mitternaucht swooned.
[The god of Storytelling approaches the newest god to offer up his wisdom.]
“Inspekta, my boy, you're off to a fabulous start. Don't let that scrap-yard sunflower get you down. You just need to tune out all the distractions coming from your omnipotence. And for that you'll need, compartmentalization!”
“Come-port-mental…” Inspekta trailed off. His mind was feeling fuzzy again.
[Sensing that the young god of leadership is experiencing information overload, Click-clack keeps his explanation short and simple.]
“A filter, my boy. Something within your realm to control and organize the flow of input, prayers and other such godly flotsam.”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Inspekta nodded eagerly. “I'm the most organ-eyes person I know.”
“Good. We, your now fellow gods, have high hopes for you. You'll be accomplishing multitudes of divine deeds for the Grove in no time. Once you're ready, of course.”
“I'm ready right now.” Inspekta declared with a confidence that took the others by surprise.
“Are you sure dear?” Mitternaucht asked, “there's no need to rush.”
“I am paws-a-tiv.” He replied. “I wanna get out there and show da Grove what the God of Leadership can do!” He saluted, ready to prove that he deserved this unfathomable honor.
“Well, that's the spirit!” [The storytelling god praised.] “This kid's got initiative.”
“I've always liked that can-do attitude of yours.” Cobigail agreed.
“I suppose if you're feeling up to it, we shouldn't hold you back.” Mitternaucht conceded.
The other gods bid him farewell and good luck as he ventured to his realm. When he got there he was greeted by the blinding void of white. It stung his eyes and made him strongly aware of a headache caused by overstimulation that he had been ignoring behind the excitement of the day. He covered his eyes with one hand and waved another through the air. The white snapped to black, like a light switch had been flipped. Relieved, he flopped to the floor and proceeded to zone out, staring into the nothing.
He had no idea how long he had been laying like that, lost in the flow of omnipresence. Prayers and desires floating through his mind like dandelion fluff on a breeze.
…How do I get these cobbing kids to behave?...
…This meeting has to go perfect, if I can't get this merger deal, I'll have to start laying people off…
…They're all looking to me ta be da boss now. I know he trusted me to do it, but what if I'm in ova’ my head?...
That last one felt very familiar and very close.
++++++++++++++++
Capochin leaned against the side of the campaign van trying to enjoy the festival. He watched as Bizzyboys scampered around with heightened excitement, overjoyed to take part in the festivities after witnessing one of their own become a god.
He was happy too, naturally, but also feeling a touch isolated. He no longer had his best friend, his lifetime companion, by his side anymore. Now it was his turn to lead the Bizzyboys, but without Hector's guiding presence, he didn't know where to start.
He was snapped from his worried thoughts by the slam of the van door suddenly falling forward, hitting the ground with a metallic bang.
The doorway was filled with an otherworldly glow. He knew immediately what this was. The fallen door now functioned as a ramp and the godly light was warm and inviting.
He entered the dark emptiness. A few glowing god particles floated around aimlessly in the air. He walked forward until he spotted the supine form before him, large and long like a fallen redwood.
The new God of Leadership turned his head to face him.
“Cap-o-chin!” Inspekta called in a drowsy, sing-song way. “It's oh so goody-good to see yew.” He slowly sat up straight, and Capochin took in his towering visage.
“Wow…” was all he could say for the moment.
Capochin had only gotten a glimpse of Inspekta from his spot on top of the spire. Backlit by the celestial light of the rift, a silhouette really.
But now here he was, up close in all his godly glory.
“Oh wow, let's get a look at’cha.”
Inspekta leaned forward, stretching his body past his feet to get his face up closer. The face was the same, though his glasses were gone. There was an uncanny vally-ness to it, too perfect to be real. His eyes seemed to contain all the starlight of the night sky. His hair, no longer tight, messy curls, now bouncy, silky, shimmering iridescently. Capochin briefly entertained the idea of reaching up and touching it, but quickly pocketed the thought.
“Yew like what yew see?” Inspekta asked, sitting back up with a bit of a wobble as if his head were mounted on a spring.
“Uh, yeah! You look amazing!” Capochin gushed, “How does it feel? Ya know, ta be a god?”
Inspekta paused to think about it. He wanted to sound more articulate about his experience with Capochin than he had been with Cobigail.
“It feels like I'm a bottle a sody-pop, shaken up, fizzy and ready to burst! I'm soakin’ up the Universe like a sponge. I am the alpha, the omega, I am the Entire Everything Bagel!
I can hear them, the souls prayin’ to me for guidance. Beggin’ me for poipus. I can feel them all… I can feel you Cappy.” he reached out a hand to Capochin's shocked face.
“You, you can read my mind?” Capochin stammered, now very conscious of the scandalous thoughts he'd had earlier.
“Not yer thoughts,” Inspekta explained, “your desires, your ambitions…” he looked at him with sympathy. “Yer worried you're not gonna do right by the boys.”
Capochin's gaze sank to the floor. His friend, his god, placed a disembodied hand on his shoulder, stretching closer.
“Cappy, I wouldn't have put yew in charge if I wasn't one hundred percent con-fi-dent that you could do it. And it's not like I'm gonna be too busy wit all my godly duties to give you advice when you need it. In fact, being my right hand yam, you're gonna be my mouthpiece, my profit, delivering my will to da people. Yew and I are gonna be together here quite often, my friend.”
Capochin gazed around the empty landscape. “We're gonna work together all the time here?” He pointed into the nothing.
Inspekta took a good look around and shrank down to his default size with embarrassment.
“Looks like I haven't egg-sack-lee set up shop yet, have I?” He turned back to Capochin, determined not to get flustered. “But, that can be remedied with a bit of godly manifestation.”
An anxious pause took him as he remembered his inexperience on the subject. The gods had been thankfully forgiving of his faux sunflower faux pas, but the Bizzyboys were expecting great things from their god.
“Yep, you and me, building a new era.” he rambled, trying to buy time to remember just how he had created that sunflower in the first place.
“Dat's right boss.” Capochin said supportively. “Just like we built the Bizzyboys up from nothin’, with only our bare hands.”
An epiphany hit him. “Dat's right, our hands…”
The sunflower had appeared from his hands. He had always valued hard work, encouraging his boys to dig, build and climb to get results.
Infinite hands to get the job done.
He cupped two hands together, thinking of something small, simple, just as a proof of concept. He felt something form there and pulled it out as a magician might produce the final card of a trick.
A red cap with gold trim, the Bizzyboy logo emblazoned on the front. The kind of hat worn by a conductor, a captain, a general.
A leader.
He confidently slapped it on.
“So let's get ta woik!”
He turned to the void and released several hands from his coat.
“Foist, we're gonna need a place ta work at.”
The hands traced a rectangular shape into the air, from sketch to framework to fully rendered, until a large desk was sitting there. Tall and sturdy, the kind with filing cabinets for sides. He pulled out one of the drawers, already filled with prayers, sorted alphabetically by who prayed them.
Already he could feel the deluge of devotions ebbing.
“Dat's a nice desk, boss.” Capochin praised. “Now how's about one of them big comfy office chairs? The kind that spin…” he stopped, seeing Inspekta slip beneath the desk and sit on the floor. “Or, under there is okay, I guess.”
Capochin joined him in the nook where the god was eyeing the bare underside.
“The file cabinets are a good start, but I'm a modern god who needs da latest tech-know-ledge-e.” He waved his hands over the blank surfaces, transforming them into computer screens that flashed to life with a soft glow and a trail of digital information.
“Yep, unlimited memory, fastest processing and running on the energy of the Universe. No more dying batteries to worry about.” He sneered at the memory of how many times he had lost hours of work due to the defective battery power of his old laptop.
He poked the touchscreen and scrolled through the seemingly endless data now being funneled to the computer rather than his godly brain. He was certainly feeling more lucid now. The hyper awareness of the Universe was still there, but now regulated to the back of his mind where it wasn't overtaking his senses.
“It's cool an’ all boss,” Capochin observed “I was just uh… expecting something bigger, I guess.”
Instead of turning around, Inspekta bent backwards to an impossible degree, staring at Capochin upside down. His hair dangling and his new hat falling off.
“Do you not like my a-comma-day-shins?” He asked, twisting his head right side up without changing the rest of his bodily orientation.
Capochin's stomach dropped at the unsettling bonelessness of Inspekta's movement. He was beginning to feel a tangible mental line between ‘this is my friend’ and ‘this is a God.’ And whether he be god or friend, he did not wish to be on his bad side.
“It… no… I mean… I'm just sayin’, yer a god now. And you deserve a big, impressive realm, like da other gods have.” Honestly, this was looking like an inverted version of the office they had been keeping prior to Hector's ascension.
Any annoyance of Inspekta's features faded as he straightened himself out.
“Well I like it. I think it's cozy.” He looked up at the ceiling of his enclosure. “Though, now that you mention it, it could use a little more air.” He traced a circle on the underside of the desk and an industrial looking ceiling fan sprouted and started spinning, blowing a gentle breeze. “Dat's more like it.”
A few more touches: a keyboard for this monitor, a mouse for that one, a joystick for gaming (even gods gotta take a break). He turned to Capochin, satisfied with what he had created.
“Not bad if I say so myself. Much more new-ants den what you would expect from a beginner, dontcha think?”
“You were always a fast learner, boss.” Capochin said.
“Dat's right. The other gods didn't think I'd be ready yet, they under-estimated me.” Inspekta scoffed. “But I proved to them I'm not some babygod!” He stretched up tall and proud, only to bonk his head on the underside of the desk. “Owie!”
He rubbed his head, and realized it had been pushed a few inches down into his neck. He quickly popped it back into place as Capochin asked,
“Now that you're all done fixin’ up the place, some of the boys have been asking when they'd be able to see you. To bask in your godly visage, as it were.”
“Ah, they want to behold my de-vine self? Send them in!” Inspekta beamed, grinning broadly, until he noticed Capochin flinch.
“Uh, maybe you should keep the smiling to a minimum there, boss. You don't wanna intimidate the boys too much on their first visit.”
Inspekta looked at his reflection in one of the computer screens. He grinned as he had before and noticed the row of sharp, shark like teeth smiling back at him.
“Oh, no. I do not want the boys to think I'm a fur-o-sis goddie.” He quickly practiced a few closed mouth smiles, something that made him look cute and approachable, while Capochin left to gather up those curious devotees.
He came back with a handful of Bizzyboys, including Vibiano and Grujaja.
He revealed himself, looming large above them, in grandiose fashion
“Welcome my Bizzys, to the God Complex! And gaze in awe of your new God of Leadership, me, INSPEKTA!”
The small crowd ooed and ahhed and one even started applauding.
“Gee boss, you look amazing!” gushed one.
“Ya look so powa'ful.” Praised another.
“You look like a tube sock.” Said Vibiano, bluntly.
Inspekta's face fell at the comment. Vib circled around the god, analyzing what she saw.
“Not that it's all bad. The gold trim is a nice touch and the hat brings it all together. But you're still giving me ‘used car lot tube guy’ vibes.”
Inspekta rolled his eyes, but otherwise hid his annoyance.
“Rest assured, I am not here to sell used cars. What you see before you is the fizz-ick-all embodiment of the perfect leader: Flexible,”
He curved his body into a figure eight.
“Hands on,” he flaunted his many hands.
“And able to go the extra mile for his people.” He elongated himself, looping around the group a few times, then shrank back down.
“I represent everything a Bizzyboy should aspire to be.”
“Um… where's your tail?” One Bizzyboy asked, raising his hand.
“Eh?” Inspekta froze, then dipped his head back to look at his own rear.
They were right, he had no tail. Somehow the most defining feature of a Bizzyboy, of any Drainfolk, was missing from his godly posterior.
How did this happen? Had there been a moment, going through the rift, that he had felt shame for his origins? Resulting in his tail getting left out of his final form?
Would his boys resent him for not properly representing their race? Would they think he had no Drainfolk pride? This wouldn't do at all.
Frantically and discreetly, he had some hands get to manifesting within the void of his coat.
“Oh, there's nothing to worry about.” He stalled for time as the hands popped out behind him, out of view of his followers’ eyes. One held the quickly conjured tail to his fanny while two more stuck it in place with some duct tape. He turned to show everyone the results. “See, there it is. A tail just like the rest of you boys.” he gave it a wiggle just to prove it was ‘real’. This seemed to satisfy the group.
“Now, I want all of yew to go out there an’ enjoy da rest a the festival.” He stated. “Have fun and rest up. I'll be giving out my foist godly orders to yew all soon, deli-gated through my numbah one captain, Capochin, of course. Bye-bye now.”
The group bid their goodbyes and left. Grujaja paused to take one last peek at his leader-turned-god from under the cardboard box he had been wearing until Vibiano took his hand and led him away.
Inspekta stood silently for a moment, then slumped slightly with a sigh.
“Be honest Cappy, how'd I do?”
“You were supa’ impressive boss. Very godly.”
Capochin turned to see his god looking down on him with tired eyes.
“This is really happenin’ huh?” He asked as if he were unsure. “We've really made it to the tippy top.”
He glanced around him. The desk, the portal, the laminate tile flooring that he didn't remember manifesting but must have without thinking about it. At his new body that he was still getting used to. It all felt like a fragile dream he could still wake from and be ordinary, mortal, non-noteworthy Hector again.
A touch to his side brought him back into the moment. Capochin was looking up at him with concern.
“You okay dere Spek? You look tired… do gods even need to sleep?”
Inspekta blinked. Honestly he was feeling exhausted, like the entire day was finally catching up to him. And it probably didn't help that he had barely slept the night before the Rift Ceremony.
“I could prob-ab-lee use a widdle nappy…” he slurred. He took a step, stumbled, landing face first on the floor, then inch-wormed his way under the desk where he curled up like a coiled snake.
Capochin stayed with him as he got comfortable.
“Have a good rest, boss.” He said, giving his shoulder a light pat. “You deserve it. You deserve all of this.”
“I wouldn't have gotten here wit out yew, Cappy.” Inspekta said sleepily. “We're gonna dew great things together. And you're gonna show da boys what a great leader yew can be.”
“You really think so?”
“On-nest and truly, you have my blessing.”
Capochin's eyes bugged out, stunned. “You, you're givin’ me ya foist blessing?”
Inspekta placed a hand on Capochin's head. “May you have the strength ta lead, even when things get tuff.”
Capochin felt energized by Inspekta's words. He was so excited, he wanted to give him a huge hug… but no. He was his god's right hand man now. Best to keep things professional.
“Thank you boss.” He said, barely containing himself. “I'll see you in the mornin’, bright n early.” He saluted and bounded to the exit.
Inspekta waved to him as he left, “Bye, I bee-leave in yew.”
Alone again, Inspekta smiled to himself. He took in all he had done: manifested his realm, impressed his devotees, even given blessing.
“Not too bad for a foist day on the god job.” He said to himself.
He laid his head down and let the background noise of the Universe flood his senses again. It filled him with a warmth that said, you belong here.
“If you say so.” Razzma's words took Hector out of his thoughts. She passed by him and gave another long look into the empty realm.
“So what are you going to do about this blank canvas?” She asked King.
“Best to set up a filter first, then we can worry about az-tet-ticks.” Hector suggested.
“Well that shouldn't be a problem. You were always organized at the mail office.”
“That's true.” King reflected, “something like that should work here.” She pointed into the void… and nothing happened. Her shoulders slumped.
“This is what happened with Missy. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't.”
“But, before you nearly shot us to the moon by only thinking about a platform.” Raz reminded her.
Hector gave this some thought. Every god performed manifestation in a way that was unique to them, specific to their domain. He had created using his hands, and later with his computers. Cobigail grew what she wanted from the ground. Click-clack could write or narrate something into existence. So, it only made sense for King to manifest using something related to eloquence.
“Say it out loud.” He told her.
King gave him a nod and turned back to the emptiness.
“Boxes for incoming and outgoing messages.”
A pair of square grids materialized, filling the space she had been pointing to, each labeled as per her request. King stared at them momentarily, then slapped her hand to her forehead.
“Of course, the god of eloquence must communicate her intent.”
“You did say you could paint a picture with words.” Razzma smiled.
“Speak it, and it shall be.” Hector nodded.
King turned and pointed at him. “You are very clever.”
He gave her a cockeyed smile. “Eh, yew woulda figured it out eventually.” He said.
King turned back and observed what she had made. “It's a good start, but something still feels missing.”
“Hey, howdy, Hey!” The shout brought her attention to Godpoke, pointing to the source of the exclamation as they held it up over their head.
“Yes Godpoke, I did use Megapon to keep organized. Though with these powers, it's like I've become a humanoid version.”
“Most sunshiny morningday to you.” Godpoke sounded off, pointing at the space before them. King smirked, knowingly.
“Yes, I can see the words.” She paused “and taste them, feel them. Not the words themselves but the meaning behind them.”
Razzma shrugged. King had explained, once she had acquired Megapon for the first time, that holding the divine device allowed her to see the words people spoke as if they were physically there, floating in the air to be siphoned up and dispensed to others. This deific synaesthesia was definitely new, though. More god stuff she would have to get used to.
“And what do my words taste like?” Razzma asked, half teasingly and half curious.
“Solid and somewhat spicy.” King replied. She saw Godpoke's head lower, and instinctively knew why.
“Godpoke, even though the words you use are borrowed, they have a flavor unique to you.”
This perked the messenger right up. Behind their bandana they were surely smiling. They signed a quick “thank you”.
“Can you taste that?” Razzma asked, genuinely interested.
“I can feel all language.” King explained. She leaned in closer. “Remember how I said one time that I wanted to learn Italian? I know it now. Among every other language still being spoken all over the world.”
“Even da made up ones nerds like to use from their sci-fi fantasy shows?” Hector asked.
King gasped, almost giddy at the idea. “OMG now I have to try Klingon.”
“Uh, before we get off track,” Razzma interrupted, not wanting to be subjected to a conversation in some fictional geek language, “why don't we finish decorating, first?”
“Right,” King refocused herself. “Since we were on the topic of Megapon, giving her a few siblings may be helpful.
Godpoke watched as the words flowed from King's mouths, floating through the air like leaves on a breeze. They circled around the inboxes and transformed into a pair of belipped megaphone-like funnels, floating in mid-air, like the horns in Thespius's clouds. Occasionally, they spat out envelopes that flew into an incoming mail slot and rested there.
Hector noted King's relieved sigh.
“Feeling a bit more clair-it-e?” He asked
“Yes, much better.” She replied. It was like an obscuring shroud had been lifted off of her. She looked around with a clearer focus before turning back to Razzma.
“Now, for how this place looks…”
Razzma peered out beyond the office set up. “Could definitely use some color, hermana.”
“Maybe like the canyons near our hometown.” King suggested. A wash of painted stone and sunset fell over the horizon.
“Much better,” Razzma smiled, “and how about some plant life? Cacti, maybe.”
“Neon cacti.” King grinned. The glowing green outlines of saguaro drew themselves here and there in the distance. “And maybe one real one.” On top of the outgoing mailboxes, a round potted succulent sprung into existence. “But cute.” A pair of black sunglasses popped onto it.
“Nice touch.” Razzma smiled.
“There's one more thing it needs before it's perfect,” King gestured to a pair of spaces she had left blank on either side of the entry portal. “A mural painted by my best friend.”
Razzma's eyes widened. “You want me to paint a mural for your realm?” She quickly examined the spaces. For a mortal, they were fairly large, and anyone visiting King would see anything she could potentially put there right when they first walked in.
He could barely contain the flood of emotions; honor, excitement, trepidation, anxiety. King bent down to him with a confident smile.
“I can't think of anyone better.”
“Dios mio, gracias.” She stammered, then approached the first blank space, pondering what he would put there.
King wandered around, adding touches here and there. Desert flowers, a welcome mat, comfortable wicker chairs with cushions for visiting mortals. Which got Hector thinking,
“Make sure you've got someplace comfy for ya'self.” He noted. “I'm sure Miss M's already told ya about the importance of rest.”
King smiled, recalling that yes, Missy had told her how, while sleep was not a necessity for a god, occasionally resting was a good way to feel recharged and ready. It also reminded her of her lover's promise of intimacy once her realm was complete.
“A love seat should do.” She stated, causing a plush, pink sofa to appear in the center of the room. She turned back to Hector. “Any other tips.” She asked.
He thought for a moment, “Well, offerings are another way to keep up your energy. Yew got a favorite snack?”
“I always did like your campfire s'mores.” She told Razzma, who had been half listening while sketching on the wall with a charcoal stick.
“You want me to paint and cook for you now?” She said, faking annoyance.
“Doesn't have ta be food,” Hector clarified, “anything made with love an’ devotion counts. Poetry, art, good deeds performed in your name. Snackies were always my favorite.”
He got quiet again, another aspect of godhood he had taken for granted, another weight of guilt on his heart. He tugged awkwardly on the cuffs of his sleeves. “Just, don't f'get ta say ‘thank you’.”
“Well, thank you for all this advice.” She told him.
“It's da least I can do. Afta’ what I did…” he awkwardly trailed off. He knew he didn't deserve her kindness, her forgiveness. Because of him, the time she could have spent turning to the gods for guidance in preparing for her own godhood, instead she had been his captive. All that on top of his attempt to tarnish her good name.
She had noted the change in his demeanor and gazed her sympathetic eyes into his sad ones.
“Do you remember when I first became godpoke? What I said to you on my first delivery to the God Complex?”
“Uh, that my handwriting was sloppy?” He ventured a guess. Honestly his last decade of godhood was a bit of a blur as his mental health had spiraled.
“I said that I was looking forward to working with you. I meant it then and I still mean it now, even though our positions have changed.”
He straightened up and met her eyes earnestly. “I won't let yew down. From here on out I am but your humble pal-a-din, my King.” He bowed with an exaggerated flourish.
She gave a little laugh, then stretched out on her newly conjured sofa.
Hector looked around, impressed by what King had put together. His eyes followed from the entryway, tiled black and white like a chessboard, to what on her end would be a front desk. He peeked over the edge to see the ground below looked like desert sand. Beyond her mail slots and megaphones, the canyons in the distance seemed to be in unending dusk. The golden hues only broken by the blinking green neon plant life.
It was impressive and eye-catching. Definitely more inviting than his dark, cramped, little God Complex.
“So, what are you gonna call this place?” He asked.
King took in her surroundings, her expression full of satisfaction.
“King's Court. Feels right, don't you think?”
[The End]