The letters cluttered inside this four-cornered room and I stood on a side of it.
[You're a cleaner, aren't you? A commission tasked from the wings of Olympus, he asks you to sort it all.]
"Inbox of Olympus, " I breathed out slightly disappointed, maybe because I'm used to the director's twists inside the domain. Person A and Person B, are friends but he pulls those strings apart through their pasts and mistakes and gives them a breaking point and a choice. That choice depends on the humans themselves and each one of them presently in a bow in the most unique way possible. These gods already know it. "Are you seriously enjoying that commission? For me to sort stuff?" Before the commissioner replies I answer, "SIGHT"
As the lights on the room entered getting it all filtered with my eyes I saw faint little moving translucent objects with a word written on them.
Love
Love
Bills
Accepted
Declined
Bills
The contents of these are summarized carefully capturing the main theme of the object that my vision has laid upon, that's the "sight".
[Don't you think that's an awful way to read letters, an unappreciative cleaner?] A voice came, and the answer was not one I'd heard with my ears alone something that echoed from some unknown distance. Is this the voice of a god? It is feminine yet carries an uncanny power. It seemed to reach me from no mortal throat, but from
the very realm that guides our steps from beyond.
[Letters are meant to be read.]
"If it is for you that is meant to be. But it looks like you have no sense of privacy then." I replied blatantly ignoring the way the god shoves his ideals to me. What did this god want with my letter sorting? Wasn't there someone more important than me who should have access to it?
...
"Any other words to say?'
Silence. The silence was so long that I thought that god had already left, but then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I could hear the sound of a sigh. [To have that kind of appreciation towards letters, you must have read a few letters in your lifetime, cleaner.] He said, his tone gentle and almost amused. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the god who spoke to me. His words lingered in the air, making me wonder if I had indeed missed out on something significant by not reading the letters entrusted to me.
"Out of all people, you should know I haven't experienced receiving one."
[Mhm. Well said, you are very aware of it I see.] As a cleaner, I am always contracted for this strange sorting challenge inside our place, and at this time sorting is the same goal here. It was to methodically organize the piles of letters and parcels strewn about and the timer was counting down. I shouldn't have talked to this "god". I stomped towards the ground, flicking the letters floating for a few seconds letting me scan as I saw some of it. I let my foot land once more, pushing it all in the air as I did once more separating it.
"And you care about me assorting it when I need the forwardly dated one right now."
[I know.] This guy.
Yet some patterns emerged the longer I looked.
The four-cornered walls stood still as I watched as sudden scenes happened before my eyes, the walls broke apart, and debris fell.
"Did the fire start already?!" A blank line. No one answered back. The smoke slowly filled it and my head felt heavy, with a slight ringing in my ears but then my eyes saw silhouettes of people moving towards different directions, the ceilings no longer present as the purple-colored sky welcomed me. A cold breeze brushed over my face, making my hair rise, as the clouds parted, allowing rays of sunshine to hit my skin and eyes blinding me for a few seconds before seeing silhouettes, walking trailing around the white dashes of lines on the ground, crosswalk in intersecting roads. I squeezed my eyes shut against the blinding flash, feeling disoriented. When the light faded, the sounds of the city returned - car engines, shouting voices, footsteps pounding the pavement. I opened my eyes to find myself once more in Shibuya Crossing, though it seemed different somehow. I tried to take a step, feeling as if my legs would give away under me yet surrounded by a surreal and haunting atmosphere. The air hung heavy with an unexplainable sense of foreboding, sending a shiver down my spine. This place, though vaguely familiar, seemed distorted and twisted, as if reality itself had been tampered with. Confusion and frustration welled up within me, and I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "Out of all people, you should know I haven't experienced receiving one."
My legs trembling as if they might dissolve into the strange ether that permeated this place. All around, shadows seemed to press in, an intangible dread seeping into my bones and slowing my movements. The crowds continued their ominous parade, faces blank and eyes despite those blank eyes, some of their mouths moved with contempt and others with passion, hands. Their motions held an unnatural fluidity, a grace that mocked the constraints of flesh. As I watched, one of the figures began to stretch and warp, limbs elongating, jaw unhinging in a silent scream maybe in anger, pain, or joy. What do I know? I know nothing about them.
These are illusions of people's memories.
[A keen observer. You do belong as a part of the domain.]
"This Shibuya crossing... What do you want me to do with this? This has nothing to do with what you wanted." I asked as I approached the ghostly figures of memories. I've seen these types inside the domain before usually we at times act like them but with some tech, we know we project them, but most of the time we give them 'drinks' to hallucinate if the worst comes to worst. They don't know where they go from here, and the players are most of the time emotionally beaten down. I never thought it could be used unto me. The idea is to create new experiences for the players. It's a process that will end after the game ends if anything goes wrong (usually there isn't anything).
I watched as the crowd dispersed from the Shibuya crossing, some disappearing without a trace and others remaining in the crowd, talking to each other. [They're just people doing what they're supposed to do. Just like you. A part of a play orchestrated by me.]
So this is all a joke. "What's that supposed to mean?" I spat at him. "Is this some sort of cosmic test?"
[That is not how I see things, cleaner. I believe you are simply too young to fully understand. I want you to lose for me.]
"Why? And why should I do it?" I demanded, "What is so great about having me lose to you?" As if answering my question a bright flash blinded me. I frowned, unsettled. "You claim to want me to lose, yet show me this. What game are you playing at?"
[How thoughtful...] The god sounded exasperated yet he chuckled. Look around, cleaner. Aren't you tired of seeing these?]
"Tired of seeing them? How about you stop pretending to be the gods and tell me who you are?" I asked back. After a pause, I added, "I've never even seen a god who questions what they do..."
[Then you have never seen them until now.] He answered me as if this were true. A god who questions what they have done something people could have seen in the fictional world... well, aren't this one too a fictional one?
"Do you think the gods exist, Mr. God?" The question seemed to hang in the air for a long while, I wasn't sure if he was carefully placing the proper words in his mouth. When he finally answered his voice was solemn.
[We exist. We have created humanity in our image and we are responsible for all of its creations.' There's a pause and another sigh. [As far as I am concerned, humanity will soon forget us if these actions aren't done. It is a necessary thing to do.] "I think you should stop this masquerade now." I snapped, "I aim to come back to the domain where I am from." I stepped my foot kneeling like a knight as I carefully moved my other leg to stand up, and walked carefully, my hands slashing up the memories seeing how it slowly ascended into smoke. I knew I wasn't going to get any answers from this 'god', but I would find out what he wanted me to do, or die trying. I would get rid of this thing. Amid my slashing, the god's voice echoed once again, sounding less angered and surprised, and more inquisitive [Cleaner, what are you desiring to do with me?] He didn't sound angry anymore. He didn't sound surprised either. I stopped walking, feeling somewhat foolish at my lack of knowledge regarding what exactly he meant by this 'desire'. Pausing in my tracks, I felt a sense of foolishness washing over me. I hadn't given much thought to my desires amidst the chaos. What did I truly want? The answer seemed elusive, but I knew one thing for certain—I wanted to get the fuck out of this place.
"You already know," I replied, my annoyance palpable. As my feet touched the ground once again calmly pacing toward the crowd and slashing on every memory I crossed I had this sudden urge within me to turn around and face this god. "Why do you keep questioning me about these? It's unnecessary."
[Perhaps the answer will surprise you... Cleaner...] I chuckle lightly. [You do know what I am after all.] I looked at that one person standing being passed through by memories, wearing a long blank white waterfall coat. [Perhaps I know the answers to why you are experiencing this.] As he turned towards me, his appearance was clear, had a trim on his beard and his head had two sets of tiny wings as his black boots also had.
Hermes.
"Young woman, you saw through these things."
"These weren't meant for me in the first place. These won't work for me." He walked towards me, his fingers rubbed something off my face, and I allowed him to. "And you're not supposed to be real." There is a fact people should know.
"You're created by a person's imagination." As he removed his thumb from my cheeks his thumb filled with blood as he placed it in his mouth as if savoring it slightly closing his eyes. "You're once again right. If they only have seen these on their face." He smiled lightly. "But I know HE has seen this too. I just don't know if he acknowledges it. He enjoys this just like your friend, Vis."
"Can you please say to him I want to go back?"
"I don't have the right to do that." He held my shoulders as his mouth moved and said nothing as if sending a silent message.
They watch you.
"You failed this task. You'll be serving a punishment." His fingers touch my forehead as my back hits the floor feeling the pain of the impact I groan, and my eyes can see the room back from where I came from.
"What a bummer! She failed" The smoke made me hazy. I 'failed'. I was about to stand up when a force hit my head once more forcing me to the floor.
