1.6 When God Takes Charge

“Ow,” I said to no one in particular as my fist punched through solid oak, splintering the wood, bruising my knuckles more than it hurt the wall.

Meanwhile, the crowd cheered my opponent, who had won yet another round. I paused to glare at the target about twenty feet away before casting a quick [Repair] spell on the wall, fixing the rather deep dent I had accidentally put there in a moment of, well, of anger. Casting that simple spell was very much permitted within the rules of Xaranya without disrupting the world system, which I try very hard not to do – ever, because of reasons. And my aim really was that bad. I have never been good at aiming, probably because I prefer to blow things up with rather less targeting. And … that is definitely a [God] thing. The last hand-ax I had thrown had almost hit the target and almost earned me a point, but … we finished at 15 to 5, which was honestly just … sad.

“Good game,” I said to [Warrior] Kriss, who nodded her head to me in acknowledgment. Almost ten feet tall with dark green, orc skin, I had honestly expected Kriss to be a bit less – well – good at this. I should have known better. Orcs and their axes.

“Good game,” she agreed, and it was easier for her to say. She won. She extended her hand for me to shake, and I shook it, noting how much stronger her grip was.

“Wanna go again?” Kriss asked, smiling slightly, two long teeth – on either side of her face – protuding up against her cheeks as she smiled.

“Nah, enough punishment for one night,” I said, scanning the crowd to find Fizzlword. He was the one who had recommended this place, and it was … lively. I had to give him that. It was lively in a way that was both earth-adjacent and also unique to the the features of Xaranya, which appeared to functioning pretty much as I had decided it should work as a transitional world and … of course very few people want to know any of that. So … let me stop rambling. (If you’re curious, you can find more in the appendices.)

I found Fizzlword sitting with some friends at a table, all of them among those who live north of the westlands, in or near Cascadia. They were enjoying drinks and light conversation and … I am horrible at small talk, so I had to find something else to do and that was how I wound up in an ax-throwing contest against an orc. In case you were wondering.

“There she is,” Fizzlword said, and the friends turned to see me. “Where did you get off to?”

“Hey,” I said. “I think I am going to call it a night.”

“Okay,” he said. “Did this help?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

You may wonder what was I doing, hanging out with one of my/our [Clerics] when I was supposed to be there for Vikom and … yeah. Long story short, I ws there to try to get a feel for how this world functioned. And then you may wonder … well, never mind. I have a process. Other people have their processes. This is mine. Sometimes, you need to breathe the air, listen to the language. This world was … competitive but in a fun way. That told me something.

The next day, I contacted Vikom, asking if he would like to meet me in a similar place. Once he calmed down, he agreed to meet me, for drinks, just to talk.

“Let me start,” I told him, sitting at Ilistia’s, this small outdoor restaurant, near the beach, within easy reach of the ocean, where you could hear the waves, feel the salt air. “I’m going to skip to the end of several long questions you may not even realize you have. First, I don’t know if you will ever see Susan again. Because that will depend partly on her, on what she wants. I do know that if you want to see her again, and not just see her but …”

“What about Dmitri?” he asked.

“Who is Dmitri?” I asked. There’s always something. There is always some detail I miss, and often … that winds up being the Most Important one.

“My friend who died as a soldier. In Ukraine?”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Are you sure that your friend is dead?”

He stared at me for a while. “They – we – never saw a body. But they were quite sure. His parents … had a funeral. I went to – his funeral.”

“There are so many possibilities that….” I paused. “Let me tell what I do know, what I can tell you. First of all, Vikom, you are in Xaranya, in my world now. I want to be clear. This is not – Purgatory or Hell. In fact, those places do not strictly exist. As places. One is preparation and the other is … nowhere at all or perhaps everywhere, depending on how you look at it. Second of all, you are in Xaranya because this is where … the algorithm put you.”

“The algorithm,” he repeated. “Are you even being serious with me?”

Yes, I also get that question – a lot. The “are you serious?” one, not the algorithm one. That would be … oddly specific.

“It is the best way I know to put it,” I explained. “Yes I am being serious. And … let’s see. You already know a few things. I’m assuming you know that you died in 2015, and that other newcomers in this area have died at various other times. You know that most of the newcomers here arrive as a children, and you also know that most of the people born here are born to residents via birthing pods.”

“Via what?” he asked.

“Oh, you didn’t know about that,” I said. “Well, don’t worry. Not important. You wonder if the end of the actual world is near because … you have to be thinking it.”

“Because there aren’t … any people who died after me, and I’m not the only one who noticed it.”

I nod, slowly.

“It isn’t just Susan,” Vikom said. “And … at least some people have been waiting for this moment for just that reason. For some reason, 2015 is when it all … ends. Either that or …”

“Or you really are dreaming all of this,” I said. “And that’s why.”

He shrugged, and then he narrowed his eyes as people sometimes do to me, in a more-than-vague if you’re really God, then prophesy! kind of way. And no one ever believes you, and I mean literally people will stop believing you – chances are good that you the reader are phasing out at this point. They will say, come on now, there is no God. The universe is entirely automated and artificial – I mean not man-made, not made at all. Have you seen how vast the universe is, God – I mean person who believes in…..

Meanwhile, I – we – sigh heavily because….

“Let me ask you a question,” I said, pulling the bowl of shared nachos closer to my side of the table in order to dip them in the surprisingly good and zesty salsa in the middle. I really liked the food on this world. “When you beat the first boss in Castelmara, who were you really beating?”

“You mean the Harpy Trio?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, deciding to Skip to the End with this guy. “I’ll tell you who. You were beating … the person who designed that particular mob in that particular dungeon.”

He put down his cup with a clatter and opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

“Okay,” he said – after a few seconds of trying and failing to come up with an argument. “Fair enough.”

“But that person was not in the room with you at the time. If that person were to watch a replay of you beating their monster, what do you think they would think?”

Vikom picked up his cup and looked down into it. “What is the point of this conversation?” he asked.

“What is the point of this entire world, Vikom? Of any world, really? Of earth. Of ‘heaven’. Of Purgatory. Of … hell. I’ll answer that question for you too, I mean what the person would – probably – think. They would probably think ‘I still win’ and you know why?”

“Why?” He looked up at me.

“Because you had fun. Because you did something cool with it. Because they set up this automated system and you did something cool with it, within the rules or even outside the rules.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Sure. I’m still not sure I get the point.”

“No,” I said. “But you will. What are your plans now? Are you going to get a [Paladin] position somewhere? Or are you going to keep protesting the entire system?”

“No offense,” he said.

“None taken,” I said back.

“No offense,” he repeated. “But I’m going to keep protesting the entire system.”

“That right there,” I said. “Is my point. Are you having fun now? Not so deep down?”

Vikom. Gave me. A look. Seriously, though. A very serious, very “I really mean it” kind of a look.

“That’s your problem right there,” I said. “You think it’s that kind of contest, because on earth that was what you were used to, the kind of contest where the death is real, where you really want to destroy people. Where the dragon doesn’t come back to life as soon as the dungeon resets for the next person to beat in their own way. You keep looking at it from the wrong angle, from a selfish angle, an angle which is never going to last.”

“As opposed to what angle?” he asked.

“You’re already getting better,” I said. “No offense taken, Vikom. I mean it. In fact … how can I help? How can I help you to – uh – break the system?” I lay my hands on the table, palms up. “Nothing up my sleeves, Vikom. Where is the fun in that?”

He stared at me for a while, and then he stood up and started to leave, and then he paused while only a few feet from the table. He turned around and walked back in order to  grab the rest of his half-eaten sandwich. Then he walked away for real, to go for a walk on the beach. To process. To think.