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    “FUCK!”

     

    Leather chair. Chronos. Morag. Hills. Void. Two bodies.

     

    I died again.

     

    “I’m going to be very rude,” I inform reality.

     

    “Coffee?” the time god offers.

     

    “Fuck you.”

     

    My insult slides off them like a splattered bee off a sports car’s windshield. They wait.

     

    “I assume you guys must be the patient kind,” I say with as much anger as I can muster, which is not a whole lot. The weird space is making everything distant again. Can a man not be upset about his own demise? The humanity.

     

    Phantom pain flashes in my chest, quickly fading. Cold head. I look at the second corpse. This time, whatever killed me got me right between the eyes. Interestingly, there is no blood.

     

    “I’ll have that coffee, thanks,” I tell Chronos.

     

    Once again, Morag uses the bundle of fuck sticks she has at the end of her mitts to serve me what appears to be the perfect espresso directly from an Italian pot. The scent is exquisite. I wait a bit not to get burnt.

     

    “It’s already at the perfect temperature,” Chronos offers.

     

    And it is. And also, it’s sublime. The best blend I’ve ever tasted.

     

    “I assume this is all happening in my head?” I ask.

     

    “No.”

     

    Huh.

     

    “But you don’t need to do anything to serve the coffee. You could just appear it in my mouth?”

     

    “We act, not because it is necessary, but because it carries meaning,” Chronos replies with that same kind patience that won’t translate into action I noticed before.

     

    “Okay. If this is a gesture of apology, it’s pretty nice but I have to say, I’m not sure where we even stand. I mean, I’m pretty sure you just ruined my life in some way.”

     

    For a moment, I feel a blinding outrage but it is immediately smothered. I turn to Morag. The eldritch butler woman maintains the same expression.

     

    “In a way, yes,” the time god allows, “in another way, you have been granted an incredible prize. I can nevertheless appreciate that the situation appears bleak for you, at this stage.”

     

    He turns towards his assistant. He places a hand on the thing that must be her arm since it exists between her shoulder and the spike mop. The look she returns is one of utter devotion and abject gratitude. The show was for me. It leaves me embarrassed.

     

    “Forgive Morag. She does not possess the ability to sympathize with your plight.”

     

    I drink more of the coffee. It’s really good.

     

    “We have some time, right? For a conversation?” I ask.

     

    “We have all the time in the world.”

     

    “Look, it would really help if you didn’t wait exactly the same amount of time before replying every time you talk. Vary a bit. Please.”

     

    Chronos nods, Morag standing by his side.

     

    “I will, from now, on according to your perception of now.”

     

    I glance at my second corpse again. I need to address this but I don’t think I’m ready. I mean, I’m pretty sure this place doesn’t exist in a way that matters so there is no rush. I got time.

     

    “Ok, next question if you don’t mind. You implied I perceive time differently compared to you?”

     

    “Indeed. You are experiencing reality as a succession of linear experiences. We are not,” the Time God patiently explains.

     

    “So… how does that work? How do you experience it?”

     

    The god leans over the table. He places an apple upon it, red, lustrous, the perfect fruit. A simple knife appears in his hand.

     

    “I find it easier to use metaphors when conferring with my champions. You, as a human, exist in four dimensions, but you only perceive three.”

     

    This doesn’t sound right, so I frown.

     

    “I am aware of time passing,” I object without much confidence.

     

    I think time works weirdly in here anyway, but I can’t tell from experience alone.

     

    “This is an object that exists in three dimensions but only perceives two,” the god continues.

     

    Chronos slices the edge of the fruit. Slice after slice — so thin they are transparent — join the previous ones on the table.

     

    Must be some sharp knife.

     

    “The object experiences itself as successive slices having different widths and heights. Never can it see itself as a three dimensional object.”

     

    The metaphor is working. As the slices start small before growing and then becoming smaller again, I can’t miss the uncomfortable imagery of what a human life is.

     

    “Ok. Ok, I get it. I experience time moment after moment, linearly, but you guys, what, experience everything at the same time?”

     

    Morag leans towards the god, face as cold as ever. Her voice is low and raspy.

     

    “Sire, the apple asks us if we experience everything in the same slice.”

     

    The first time she speaks and I’m getting sassed. Lovely.

     

    “My mind can’t process it, got it,” I reply, slightly miffed even though, again, I can’t really feel it on an emotional level.

     

    Chronos smiles. Silence returns for all of two seconds before he speaks again. I feel like it’s exactly two seconds because I made the request. I mean, I did ask for it but I’m not sure why it’s still so damn uncanny. Might be the starless void background.

     

    “By the way, I must apologize for sending you to a quick doom. Unfortunately, I needed you to experience the epiphany that is an awakening before I could explain more of the game.

     

    “Is it related to this qualia point thing I kind of see after I die? Although, after is a bit of a…”

     

    “Achronal perception. Don’t worry too much about it,” Chronos says in a pleasant tone.

     

    Morag serves him a cup. She refills mine too. The strange normalcy settles my nerves despite my best efforts.

     

    “Thank you, Morag. Ok. One more question,” I continue.

     

    Chronos nods.

     

    “Why me? Literally you could have picked anyone else in the street or whatever the place I wake up in is and they would be a better candidate.”

     

    “Not so, but first I will explain a little more about the game, which will conveniently lead us to the qualia question floating around your mind.”

     

    He said he wouldn’t mess with my mind aaaand I suppose reading it like an open book doesn’t count.

     

    “In order for us to compete, we must select a champion. Each god then grants their champion a number of boons. There are god-specific boons and universally available boons. Each of us has, shall we say, a limited amount of resources to invest. I have a significant advantage, but even then the cost increases depending on the champion. In order to provide you with the two perfect boons that would make your success, shall we say, ‘inevitable’, I could not pick any scion of a great line, or even a street thug. No, I needed… the perfect blank canvas. You are a human from an insignificant planet in a distant, insignificant arm of your galaxy with insignificant energy levels. As such, you match the profile I need to perfection.”

     

    “There are billions of us,” I reproach. “Shouldn’t you have picked, I don’t know, a politician?”

     

    The god tilts his head, and his smile grows almost genuine.

     

    “Do you sincerely believe you could talk your way out of your predicament?”

     

    “A special forces genius with three PhDs?” I suggest, again.

     

    “What a strange beast that would be,” Chronos muses.

     

    He doesn’t reply further. Still, I feel like I’m missing something important.

     

    “If you experience time non linearly, it also means you’re experiencing the end.”

     

    He smiles, and I dare hope.

     

    “So… do I win?”

     

    “Who knows!”

     

    “But you just sai—”

     

    “Who. Knows?” the god interrupts, laughing. “Not you. What are humans, if not creatures of decisions? And I believe now is not the loop for philosophy. Now, about those qualia points. As I mentioned before, I have a limited amount of resources to make available to you. But you don’t.”

     

    I frown again.

     

    “What do you mean?”

     

    “You are your own canvas. If you would turn your head to the side?”


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

     

    He points and I oblige him. We sit in the middle of a flat expanse before the sand begins rolling on all sides. On my right is an arcade cabinet shining with neon, some ancient design in gaudy colors.

     

    Chronos extends an inviting hand. I can’t shake the impression that I’m getting trolled. Not to mention that thing clearly wasn’t there a moment a — ah who the fuck am I kidding? Time doesn’t matter to those people.

     

    I stand up, Chronos mirroring me, then I approach the 80’s survivor in all its bling glory. Blocky letters appear alongside a menu. In the queen’s actual English of all things.

    Steve Prentiss.

     

    Qualia points available: 14

     

    Physical awakening: N/A

    Mage tradition: none

    Soul awakening: first stage

     

    Avatar traits:

    Perfect loop (time)

    Perfect soul (time)

    Avatar language acquisition (neutral)

     

    Even though I’ve never encountered the word before, I instinctively know what ‘qualia’ means. It’s… a subjective, conscious experience, like seeing a twilight or feeling the wind on one’s skin, or even the wave of pleasure that comes from being loved. I now see how the points would be counted, but I find the measurement odd. Shouldn’t being shot in the fucking head count as more than seeing one’s first ‘alien’? Especially when they’re practically human? I’m intellectually annoyed, and then even more annoyed that I can’t feel annoyed. Bugger.

     

    “Do you like it?” Chronos asked, sounding weirdly proud. “I know humans love games and competition. And stories. You like it, don’t you?”

     

    I…

     

    “Yea,” I admit. “I like it. It’s presented in a way that makes sense, I think?”

     

    “That is how I designed it. You are my first unawakened champion, after all, so I prepared some things to help you.”

     

    I can’t tell if he is helping me or screwing me over beyond anything anyone has ever experienced. For all I know, it might be both.

     

    “Can you explain more about the awakening things then?” I ask.

     

    “Yes, however you need to understand something: I cannot grant you more boons. But you can acquire them yourself in any way that you see fit.”

     

    “By buying them with qualia points?”

     

    “Precisely! Or not! But you can indeed buy them with points. Like rewards from a game! How exciting.”

     

    He sounds and looks hyped. His fingers approach the screen but he withdraws them after some hesitation. Is he pretending? It’s so difficult to tell.

     

    “The game has started. I can grant you no more, but you are allowed to grow by yourself. The champion I picked met all the conditions of the game, but that does not mean the champion who participates has to!”

     

    “Isn’t that cheating?” I ask. “Skirting the rules?”

     

    “My dear, we are gods. Of course, we cheat as much as we can get away with. All of us do, and will.”

     

    “Fine.”

     

    This is going to be such a pain.

     

    “So… who are the other avatars?” I ask.

     

    “It is far too ‘early’ for you to concern yourselves with them. Rather, ask me what you want to know!”

     

    That makes me hesitate again.

     

    “Shouldn’t you just tell me? I might miss an important question.”

     

    “Unfortunately, my ability to answer is limited unless you direct your thoughts towards a specific topic.”

     

    “Fine, tell me what I really ought to know,” I say, but the god only chuckles.

     

    “A good attempt, but one that only makes sense on a semantic level. Your thoughts, your knowledge, are what matter. And even though I can answer, I cannot give you more boons. I cannot, for example, grant you access to a mage tradition.”

     

    “What’s a mage tradition?” I ask.

     

    “Ah, finally.”

     

    He chuckles like he made a good joke.

     

    “You will see three lines. The place the game starts in has a tremendous amount of latent energy, more than most worlds. By merely existing there, you are able to change, to transcend the limits of your mortal existence. You can do this in a myriad of ways I have arbitrarily separated into three conceptually useful categories. The first is energy internalization, also called physical awakening. It improves everything from reaction speed to stamina. Yes, the strongest people can split mountains with a single blow.”

     

    I was visualizing Superman. I guess I got my answer.

     

    “You should stay out of my mind,” I request.

     

    “Unfortunately, I cannot, but do not be alarmed. I understand that humans must contend with a variety of biological imperatives that turn your consciousness into an easily distracted chaos of competing drives and self-destructive emotions. Know that I look upon you with nothing but patience and kindness.”

     

    “… thanks. So I can do that too? Splitting mountains.”

     

    “If you manage to learn how.”

     

    “So… for example, if I do some serious training, I can return with the same body?”

     

    Chronos winces.

     

    “Unfortunately, no. You will start the loop with the same body and the same possessions every time.”

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