Mercury Shrugs (29 page)

Chapter Fifty

“Well, thank God that tiresome bastard is gone, eh?” said Red Mercury. Balderhaz shrugged.

“Strange,” said John.

“It’s a defense mechanism,” said Red Mercury. “I miss the other me just as much as you guys do.”

“What?” said John. “No, I’m referring to this.” He pointed at one of the little universe icons, and it grew to fill the display.

“All I see is desert,” said Red Mercury. “It looks like all the other universes we created.”

“That’s exactly it,” said John. “It looks just like them, but this doesn’t appear to be one of the universes you created. Not intentionally, anyway. The timestamp predates by several minutes the moment you accessed the Iris.”

“One of the universes we created with the quoin survived,” said Balderhaz.

“When we tried the combinations, you mean?” said Red Mercury.

“The timestamp fits,” said John, frowning. “It came into being at the exact moment the door to the Outpost was opened.”

“But all the other combinations were supposed to have resulted in oblivion,” said Red Mercury. “There was only one possibility for success, and we took it. There can’t be another universe created at that moment.”

“Unless it was somehow able to stabilize on its own,” said Balderhaz. “Without the help of the Eye.”

John nodded. “It should be impossible, but that’s the only explanation.”

Red Mercury rubbed his scalp with his hand. “So forty-three million or so different versions of us each tried a different combination. The combination we tried worked, letting us into the Eye. Forty-three million combinations didn’t work, resulting in the destruction of the Eye. In every other case except for one, the destruction of the Eye resulted in the end of the universe. But by some fluke, this universe survived. How?”

“Consciousness,” said Balderhaz. “Observation. It’s the only thing that can sustain a universe.”

“That’s right,” said John.

“But all the other universes had the same number of conscious entities,” said Red Mercury. “The result should have been the same in all of them. You said it yourself, John. There wasn’t enough consciousness to sustain a universe.”

“Consciousness is a funny thing,” said John. “It’s not easily quantifiable. The Iris estimated the chance of this universe being self-sustaining without the Outpost were virtually nil, but given forty-three million chances, it’s not inconceivable that some particular combination of consciousnesses in this universe allowed it to become self-sustaining.”

“So even though every universe was identical,” said Red Mercury, “the conscious beings on that one were able to bring about a different result. That sounds like evidence for free will.”

“Bah,” said Balderhaz. “Just quantum randomness. It means nothing.”

“Perhaps some unquantifiable feature of consciousness made the universe possible,” said John. “Or perhaps it was merely a fluke, as Balderhaz indicates. In any case, it’s not likely to be a very interesting universe.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Red Mercury.

“It has the bare minimum consciousness needed to sustain it. No active connection to the Outpost, which is the source of all being. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the whole universe withers and dies eventually. At the very least, I would expect it to be a terribly mundane place.”

Mercury found himself laughing.

“What?” said John. And then a look of realization came over face. “Oh, I see. It’s your so-called ‘Mundane Plane.’”

“Not so mundane after all,” Red Mercury observed. “As it seems to have been the result of nigh-impossible fluke of reality.”

John shrugged. “Its genesis aside, it’s going to be a hell of a dull place. The laws of physics are going to be nearly immutable. Very little possibility for miracles to occur. In any case, I’m afraid the matter will remain academic. It’s time for me to cut my losses with this debacle. I’ll escort you gentlemen outside and then be on my way.”

John walked to the door and Red Mercury and Balderhaz reluctantly followed.

He led them out of the Iris, through the entryway, and outside, where the cultists lay, sat, or stood around. Some of them spoke to each other in hushed tones, but most were silent, staring at the pyramid or puzzling at their surroundings. A few simply held their hands in front of their faces, as if seeing them for the first time.

“They’ve all lost their memories,” said John. “The energy of pure being will do that to you. The specifics of experience fade, leaving only one’s essential nature.”

“The soul-thingy,” said Balderhaz.

“Correct,” said John.

But as Mercury surveyed the crowd, he realized the energy wave had done more than that. Many of the cultists had been physically changed in some way—some looked older, some looked younger, some seemed taller. The only commonality was that nearly all of them looked healthier and more robust than before.

“They’ve changed,” said Red Mercury.

“Another side effect of ontological energy,” said John. “It tends to make things more of what they are. Better representations of themselves. You might call them Platonic ideals of human beings.”

“More human than human,” Balderhaz murmured.

“So this is how it happened,” said Red Mercury, looking from one cultist to the next. “They were just human beings after all. Ordinary people transformed into—”

“Angels!” cried a voice to their right. They turned to see a tall, thin, blond man getting to his feet. He was holding something in his hand that glowed bright orange. The man seemed at once foreign and familiar to Red Mercury, like the twin brother of someone he had once known. As they watched, the man began to float in the air, holding the shining object in his hand. The ersatz angels turned to gape at him. “I am the Light-Bringer,” the man said. “Behold!”

“The shard,” said Balderhaz.

“Hmm,” said John, craning his neck to look at the pyramid. “A chip got knocked off the peak by the lightning.”

“This can’t be happening,” said Red Mercury. “It’s that damn kid. Lucas.” But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d been transformed by the ontological wave, made more than he was. Red Mercury couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the similarity before. Lucas was Lucifer.

“I understand that you are confused and frightened,” Lucas-cum-Lucifer went on, “but there is no reason for you to fear. We angels have been brought into being to safeguard the newly created universe, and I, Lucifer the Light-Bringer, am your ruler!”

“Where is he getting this shit?” Red Mercury asked.

“Delusion,” said John. “Fabrication. Who knows? It may be remnants of memory, or his mind attempting to rationalize his situation. Probably some combination thereof.”

“Or he’s realized that everyone else is as clueless as he is, and he’s bullshitting them.”

“Also a possibility,” John acknowledged.

“Where are we?” the Cravutius lookalike, who now looked even more like Cravutius, asked.

“Why, this is Heaven, of course,” Lucifer said. “This pyramid behind me is the source of all reality, the Eye of Providence. Around this pyramid we shall build a great celestial city, from which we will oversee every plane of existence. And then we shall build a hub connecting all of the planes!”

“A planeport!” yelled Balderhaz, suddenly excited.

“Yes!” said Lucifer. “A planeport connecting all the planes!”

“Seriously, Balderhaz?” Red Mercury said. “You know he’s full of shit, right? Doesn’t this strike you as familiar? We’ve been through all of this before.”

Balderhaz shrugged. “I just want to build stuff,” he said.

Mercury sighed. It figured, somehow. Balderhaz’s mind existed only to solve problems, to engineer solutions. He had no long-term memory to speak of. He lived in an eternally renewing present. Balderhaz always was, and always would be.

“But who are we?” asked a young woman. “How did we get here? I don’t remember anything.”

There were nods and murmurs of assent.

“Do not be afraid,” said Lucifer. “It’s perfectly normal to be a bit confused. Fortunately, I know all of your names, and I have a purpose in mind for each of you!”

“What’s my name?” asked the woman.

“You’re, um, Gabrielle,” said Lucifer.

“And me?”

Lucifer thought a moment. “Izbazel,” he pronounced.

“What about me?”

“Nisroc.”

“Me?

“Cravutius. Tiamat. Uzziel. Ramiel. Scalzi. Konrath.” Lucifer was no longer waiting to be prompted; he was just pointing at people and making up names off the top of his head. Mercury shuddered as he realized he was mouthing the names along with Lucifer. When he got to Balderhaz, he paused a moment, as if unable to come up with an appropriate name.

“I’m Balderhaz,” said Balderhaz.

“Of course,” said Lucifer. “Balderhaz. My planeport engineer.”

Balderhaz smiled. Red Mercury sighed. Lucifer pointed his finger at Red Mercury, who shook his head. “Skip me,” he said. “I’m not here.”

Lucifer shrugged and moved on. He pointed to Green Mercury, who had just wandered forward out of the crowd. “Ophiel,” he said.

Green Mercury frowned. “I’m Mercury,” he said.

“Whatever,” replied Lucifer, and moved on. “Malcazar, Gurien, Ederatz, Shamalaz…”

“He remembers,” said Red Mercury.

“Fragments,” replied John. “The faintest of impressions. A name, little more.”

“I remember this,” said Red Mercury. “I remember being him.”

John nodded. “This is all in your memories,” said John to Red Mercury. “It’s faint, but it’s there. When consciousness first arises, it has difficulty organizing its experiences into memories. So this seems familiar to you, but your earliest clearly defined memories stem from much later. After Lucifer’s hierarchy is established and the Celestial City is built.”

Lucifer had gotten to a woman carrying a baby, and seemed momentarily stumped. “Laylah,” he said, pointing at the woman. “And, um, Perpetiel.”

Mercury laughed. “So Perpetiel really was a baby all along. He got stuck that way, for eternity. Never had a chance to grow up.” When Mercury managed to tear his gaze off Perpetiel, he noticed that several of the others present had begun to float as well. One man had managed to lift a rather large boulder over his head and now seemed terrified of dropping it. They were realizing that whatever they were, they were not ordinary human beings.

“So Lucifer is in charge of everything?” Mercury said, turning back to John. “I don’t remember that part.”

“Only at first, from what I can gather of your memories. It didn’t take long for others to see through his bullshit, as you say. Michelle, for one. And Tiamat. They’re already skeptical. They form the Senate as a check on his power, and ultimately kick him out of Heaven. At least, that’s what happened last time.”

“Heaven,” said Red Mercury, looking around him. “It’s just another universe.”

“The proto-universe,” said John. “All the others are copies of it, without the Outpost.”

They watched for some time as Lucifer continued to pull names out of his ass. Green Mercury remained standing, with a puzzled expression on his face, taking in his surroundings.

“Poor bastard is going to have to do it all over again,” said Red Mercury.

“It’s all new to him,” said John. “His memory has been erased.”

“Not all of it,” said Red Mercury. “Traces remain. I know. I lived it. I always knew there was something before. A promise of something more than this life. Something lost.”

John shrugged. “Everyone feels like that,” he said. “Well, it’s time for me to go. Better luck this time around.”

Balderhaz nodded, obviously excited about the idea of building his planeport.

John turned to go back into the Eye.

“Hold on,” said Red Mercury. “You can’t leave me here. I can’t do this again. There’s already a Mercury here. This universe doesn’t need two of us. I’m superfluous.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked John, frowning. “I can’t return you to your time. No time travel. We can’t risk another causal breakdown.”

Red Mercury shook his head. “No, I’m not asking for that.”

“Then what?”

Red Mercury turned to Balderhaz. “You’ll be okay here without me, right, Balderhaz?”

“Hmm?” said Balderhaz. “Oh, sure. You’re right over there.” He pointed to Green Mercury.

Red Mercury nodded and turned back to John. “Oblivion,” he said. “Annihilation.”

John frowned at him. “You’re asking me to annihilate you?”

“Yes,” said Red Mercury. “I can’t take it anymore. Being immortal was bad enough, but now this? Having to go through it all over again, knowing what’s going to happen? No thanks.”

“It doesn’t have to be the same thing all over again,” said John. “Nothing is written in stone at this point. You could change things. It’s none of my business, of course, but with what you know now… you could rule this entire plane.”

“No,” said Red Mercury. “They will have to figure it out on their own. I’m not going to endlessly relive the same life just to fix whatever mistakes I made last time around. I did the best I could. Green Mercury will do the best he can. I’m out. Can you do it or not?”