4.05

“One-hundred and eighty-seven. If you are the subject of prophecy just jump off a cliff. If that doesn’t work, I know some excellent poison recipes.” - Excerpt from Enrico’s Enchiridion of Encounters.

 

“To begin with, how do you even believe it possible?” The answer to this will be telling, I saw three outcomes, one, it ends in failure, two, he proves the simulation theory and three,

 

“I believe you understand this already, but we exist as a language of programming scripture,” despite half expecting it, I was still surprised he knew this. “While beings from here cannot exist in a physical capacity on your world, we can exist in the myriad of Planes originating from there.”

 

Essentially, he believed it was possible because he was data, he was code, and data could be moved, code could be copied. He was trying to move the data that made up… whatever the other god was, into another medium.

 

I asked the question that was burning in my mouth, “How do you know this?”

 

His mouth curved into a wry smile, “Strange isn’t it, not often the prisoner chained in the cave realises he knows nothing but shadows.”

 

I knew that saying, I studied the Cave Allegory during several Humanities classes in regards to VR. “Plato?”

 

“Verron Pluton,” he replied as he flipped to a new page, “but I would like to meet this Plato.”

 

“Good luck on that,” I muttered, “he’s been dead for several thousand years.”

 

“Unfortunate,” he replied, seeming genuinely disappointed, “but if their teachings live on then they have yet to die the second death.”

 

“The answer to my question, please,” I replied, not sure if this tangent was deliberate or natural.

 

He considered his answer for a moment, before he replied, “You’ve seen my eyes.”

 

I nodded noncommittally.

 

“You know, that I see through everything that can see, that is not my limit, I am the God of History Writ and Recorded, I have seen into the past, through eyes long dead and have gleaned much. I am not the first to have uncovered the truth of this world.”

 

“Is this common knowledge?” I asked. A few people knowing won’t be that problematic, a lot could be a problem.

 

“No, save for a few who uncovered it themselves or were told by another.”

 

“Specify, few,” it was nitpicky, but I wasn’t going to let this screw me over in the future.

 

Several of his eyes blinked, it occurred to me that he was still actively looking out even at this moment, “Hundreds out of billions, not including Travellers or Heirs, they do not move on this knowledge.”

 

The chances would be slim then.

 

“What do you think?”

 

I took a deep breath as he asked that, closing my vision to calm my storming mind, carefully selecting the major points.

 

“What I think?” I said without opening my vision, “That helping you I would be doing something reckless and idiotic. If it is a success, we would set a precedent, that it is possible for beings on this world to pass into mine.”

 

I opened my eyes to see the expecting Historian, “That could more or less counter a Travellers’ main strength, immortality. If you know my real face and you could threaten me with it.”

 

The Historian did not speak. He could argue that he would never do something like that, but we both knew that even if that were true, what of the next person to try something like this? Or the person after that? If this was what Eve was referring to, then this was likely the first time this has been attempted, or at least gotten this close to.

 

“So give me a reason Historian,” I almost spat out, “to make a knife that could be pointed at me in the future.”

 

Even if my real body died there was a chance Dustin could still go on. A chance that I didn’t want to test.

 

Was this what Eve wanted? Knowing that I will reject this based on all sane logic?

 

For the first time I met him, the Historian closed all of his eyes, even his ever-present writing slowed.

 

“Ekon Zaeba.”

 

I blinked in surprise, “What?”

 

“That was their name,” he replied as he stared melancholically at the Domain next to him, “his name. I loved him and I still do.”

 

“We are fellow birds trapped in a cage, and though we have grown to become its master, the largest fighting dog in the pit is still trapped.” 

 

He turned back to me, eyes resolute, “Name. Your. Price.”

 

Surprise marred my face before it hardened into doubt. It can’t be, he had better options. I stared at him for a long and hard time. There was a catch, there had to be. My head began to hurt as every section of my mind was dedicated to searching his alien face. Where was it? I searched for a single lie. A single falsehood. A single reason to not believe him.

 

I found none.

 

I must be wrong. My ability to read expressions should be a Charisma thing. I rifled through my mind, cross-referencing his expression with every face and expression I have encountered. My brain burned. But still, I saw no lie.

 

Instead, I saw myself lying on a couch, a friend beside me, together we played games as the sun went down, together laughing and complaining till the dawn came. A friend who made a boring life bearable, if only for a fleeting instant. 

 

“Goddamnit,” I muttered.

 

Why do all reasonable people I know, do unreasonable things? “Goddamnit.”

 

“Why me?” I hissed, “You could just repeat a lesser offer with Travellers until you get one willing to work with you. You don’t even know what I’ll ask for! There are far better options!”

 

“A Traveller who actually knew how to code at a high level for one!” I ranted, “or are you unaware of the fact that even if you port their data, you have no clue if there is something on the other side capable of running it!?”

 

“Because you are the most fit for it,” he answered calmly.

 

“Why? How?” I challenged, I was a nobody!

 

Anger.

 

I took a deep breath and set aside the useless emotion. Anger was not useful now and it probably never will be.

 

“Explain,” I said, tone forcibly calm.

 

“The Magician card. Are you aware of what it means?”

 

I flipped open my copy of the Historia, to that bookmarked page. “No.” Please tell me he didn’t base this thing off of fortune telling-

 

“It represents opportunity and goals manifested.”

 

I raised an eyebrow, I will give him a chance, “I’m hoping you didn’t base this entire thing off of luck.”

 

“Not entirely,” he replied, “Your card is an Artifact, one from the goddess of Fortune. She owed me a favour and this was it.”

 

“Fortune was unlike the others of her line,” he continued, “instead of trying to influence luck, she tried to read it, and she became damn good at it. Almost single-handedly dragging Divination out of the Dark Ages.”

 

“But she was still the goddess of Fortune, and precedent dictates that she still has influence over a persons luck and fortune. How this manifested, was that even when her fortunes began to veer off, the world would start slightly course correcting, creating factors which made her fortunes seem accurate. That was how, when I randomly sent it to Indiri, it found you.”

 

“Which means, either you believe the most fit person for this role is me,” I said, glancing at the card, “or that I will become that person.”

 

“Yes,” he answered, “though to a degree they are up to interpretation. But in the interpretation of the fortune we are solidifying it.”

 

“So this world runs off a will?” I muttered.

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Statistics,” I said, “I need hard numbers, how accurate was she?”

 

His eyes began blinking rapidly, “Out of fifty-two predictions made during godhood, forty-five were fulfilled, four were fulfilled in an unexpected way, only three did not seem to be accurate. Two of those three occurred early on in her reign, when she was unused to power.”

 

“Over eighty percent then,” I muttered. That was a more than good chance. But my luck was terrible.

 

I sighed.

 

All reasonable people I knew, seemed to love unreasonable things.

 

“I agree,” I answered, “but I will not set a price, give me whatever you think is worth it.”

 

He wanted to object, but I had an answer ready, “I haven’t been in this world long enough to make an accurate decision to what I want. So give me whatever you think is worthwhile.”

 

He had doubts, but he was in no position to argue. He believed I may be the one person capable of helping him. That gave me an advantage. One I hated to exploit.

 

“I suppose I should give this back then,” I said as I moved to hand the card back.

 

The god shook his head, “No, it is yours, I cannot take it even if I wanted to.”

 

I raised an eyebrow, “The card clearly represents you, and is unfilled,” he explained, “that means she predicted your fortune whilst fulfilling my favour.”

 

“And that means?” I asked, as I examined the card.

 

“It means that it will be easier for you to fulfil the objects of the fortune,” he blinked, in a gesture I was now beginning to suspect was using his power somehow, “Wand, scroll, lens, filled chalice and a key, they are all tools you can gain. You already have the wand and the scroll.”

 

“What do they mean then?”

 

“The wand is a rather universal symbol of magic. The scroll I am unsure of, it has appeared as a variety of things, but it being solidified in the Tarot means that you have it already.”

 

“And the others?”

 

“Best if I do not say.”

 

It took me a moment to understand that. If he did say what the blanks meant, it would mean influencing what they will become. They aren’t hard and defined goals to reach, they’re a set of ideas I can use. Though, did he know the disk was a lens or was he making that up?

 

“Do I have a choice in this matter?”

 

“Yes,” he answered resolutely, “it is your Tarot, your fate. If you destroy the card, you destroy the fortune. But only you can do it.”

 

“Though I will have to ask you, to wait until after to make your decision.”

 

“Because while I hold this thing you believe it increases your chances of success,” I answered. It was probably true too, just believing it might be enough.

 

“Walk me through the exact process,” I said. “Exactly so that we don’t suffer any miscommunication.”

 

“Yes, that is best,” he paused, and for the first time in the conversation, it felt like all of his eyes were looking at me. “But, to begin with, you should know some insights as to how magic works.”

 

“It’s a belief based system, where the only laws are the precedent set by others,” I answered. “People figured it out ages ago when they took an objective look at the dozens of conflicting magic systems. What else is there?”

 

“Correct only on the practical level,” he said. “You are not wondering the right questions. You are not asking why it is this way.”

 

I raised an eyebrow, “Why is it then?”

 

“I’ll show you. Observe.”

 

And then the library disappeared.