Agents of the Demiurge (20 page)

“Why did the Creator make people if He
doesn't value them?”

“
He?
You think the Creator has a giant
body somewhere, complete with a third leg? The Creator is no more
similar to the people than It is to a turtle or a tree. As an
Observer, you should be able to appreciate that fact. We serve
something far greater than the pathetic creatures of this
world.”

“You are participating. That violates the
Divine Command,” Elza said.

Erik waved a hand dismissively at the woman.
“I decide my own limits. And I have never done anything to
undermine my service.”

“You disrupt lives in a drastic fashion,”
Elza began.

Erik spoke over her. “You think I do wrong,
Hess?”

“I do.”

“Then I say
you
are in the wrong. We
serve only the Creator. The people are nothing. Even we are nothing
compared to the Creator.”

“The Creator doesn't want you hurting
people.”

“Now, Hess, be realistic. You don't got a
clue what the Creator wants. Could be that painful deaths are the
best thing ever. Or maybe we're sent here to collect jokes about
chamber pots. We each have to use our best judgment.”

For a moment, tension hung between them. Elza
faded into the background until there was just the two of them.
Then Hess turned away and the spell broke. “I don't approve,” he
said.

Erik shrugged. “Well, good for you.”

“I don't have anything else to say to
you.”

“Are you telling me to leave?” He squeezed
the haft of his walking stick.

“I'm telling you that we are leaving. I can't
forbid you from doing what you think right, so I am going to put a
lot of distance between us and do my best to forget about you.”

“You'll remember me. We don't forget
anything, Hess.”

“Do you have any questions before I go?”

Erik glanced at Elza. “What's happening with
you two?”

“That's not your concern. Last chance to ask
questions.”

“Is there a particular question you think I
should be asking?”

Hess turned to face him again. “Aren't you
curious how many Observers there are? That is the first question
from everyone else.”

“There can't be many of us or I would have
found another before now,” Erik said.

“Well, in case you want to know, you are the
sixth I know of. Elza, Hess, Mel, San, Drake, and Erik. The
Observers of the Creator.”

Hess and Elza didn't speak to him again. They
packed up their camp while he watched, then strode away as dawn
broke. They looked back a few times, furtive glances to make sure
they were not followed.

They didn't like him. But they knew he
existed. No matter how much Hess might wish it, he would not be
able to forget their meeting.
Elza, Hess, Mel, San, Drake, and
Erik. The Creator's Observers.

They packed a
car with the essentials. Food, water, fuel, weapons, clothing. Not
that they truly needed any of it. They could survive anything the
world decided to throw at them – starvation, dehydration, injury,
exposure. The only true threat was the inevitable outcome of the
vote they conducted.

Once Jerome opened her mouth to say
something, but then she opted to maintain the silence instead. When
their vehicle was prepped, Hess poured the remainder of the fuel
throughout the garage that had served as a home to their group the
past several months. The place went up in flames as he drove
away.

They went along the outer rim of damage from
the explosion, periodically passing through black smoke rising from
the smoldering remains of buildings or vehicles. Neither Hess nor
Jerome spoke as they found an intact expressway and joined a line
of vehicles evacuating the city.

After an hour of stop and go driving, they
reached the front of the line, where figures in paramilitary
uniforms searched each vehicle in turn. Jerome stared at him for a
moment with her too large eyes before hunching down into her seat.
Hess rolled to a stop when a soldier stepped in front of his
vehicle, rifle slung from his shoulders to hang in his hands at the
ready.

There were two more soldiers performing
over-watch from the sidelines, though one was drinking from his
canteen and the other was rummaging through his pockets. It was
many hours into what probably felt like an unending shift for those
men. The leader of the group approached the driver side door.

Hess found himself looking into the face of
Inspector Monterey.

The Inspector's only reaction upon
recognizing Hess was to seize the pistol holstered at his side. In
a flash, Hess surged through the open window to seize the
Inspector. He pulled the man half into the car's cab, moving the
half-pointed handgun past him before it could fire. Then Hess
hooked an arm around the man's neck.

Inspector Monterey froze, panting. The
soldiers outside exchanged horrified looks. “There are days,” Hess
said, “when I wonder if you people are worth the effort.”

He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal,
steering his car into the soldier blocking the lane. That man dove
to the side in time to save his life. Monterey's feet skidded along
the ground and he slipped back out the window. As the man's head
began to pass the border of the window, Hess slammed his elbow down
savagely into the back of his head, then watched him flop awkwardly
in the rear view mirror. Judging by the way the body failed to curl
to protect its head, Inspector Monterey was dead. Shots rang out
behind them.

Hess switched roads at the first interchange
and continued to put distance behind them. At his side, Jerome
slowly untensed as evidence of pursuit failed to appear. Finally,
she cleared her throat. “Hess?”

“What?”

“I need to know what happened last Iteration.
After I left.”

Hess grunted. “The usual. Maybe that's the
problem.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Every love story ends in tragedy. Why should
mine be any different?”

The driver's
door of the pickup opened with a squeal to admit San. “Elz, you
look worse than the time I made you try a fermented egg.”

Elza forced a smile. “Your food always
disappoints.”

San sighed. “Don't do this, Elz. He's
miserable. You're miserable. Hell of a way to spend your final
days.”

“You know,” Elza said, “all of us stalled in
our development. Fixated on things. Fetishes. Cognitive biases. As
much experience as we have, we still missed things. Obvious
things.”

San shook her head. “You know this isn't
right.”

“Tell me the truth of something.”

“Course, hon. I'm a fan of the truth.”

“Did you befriend me just to annoy Hess?”

“No.” San placed a hand on Elza's cheek. “I
only ever picked on Hess because it was so easy. The truth of our
friendship is far sadder. We are kindred spirits, you and I, sad
saps doing our best to forget the pain of lives that refuse to
end.”

Elza squeezed her eyes shut. “The only thing
that made it tolerable was knowing I served something greater than
myself. But that was a lie. We
are
the Creator. The endless
Iterations of creation and destruction are the cosmic equivalent of
masturbation . . . .” A bitter laugh bubbled free of Elza. “My
entire life, I prided myself on being the most impartial of the
Observers. Even after I stopped following the rules, I was
impartial, San. I watched the people without the slightest
judgment. But none of that really mattered. I've been a passionless
servant of an amoral Creator. An Agent of the Demiurge in
truth.”

“Hon, just go back to him.”

“No, San. He's realizing the woman he loved
all that time only existed in his mind. He cares so much for the
people, San. We watched a world kill itself with nuclear weapons.
Every moment was torture for him. It hurt me to see his pain. He
noticed when I winced at bad news. And you know what he thought,
San? He thought the grand tragedy of Iteration one four four
bothered me. That I cared about the people. Maybe I should have.
Maybe I'm as much of a monster as Erik.”

Elza grimaced. “After all this time, Hess
still has no idea who I am. He thinks I've joined his causes out of
some altruistic impulse when in truth I've been humoring him. I'm
not who he thinks I am. And we are one serious conversation away
from him realizing the fact. If I leave, we lose our future. But if
I stay, we lose our past. So I leave.” She tossed the key to San.
“Could you drive the first shift?”

San remained silent until they were free of
the shattered city. “Last Iteration, they had these coffee beans
that had been swallowed and passed by an elephant. Supposedly the
digestion process brought out interesting flavors. The sky opened
before I could get my hands on some, but I think if we head south,
we might be able to find coffee beans and some willing elephants.
You in?”

He took the name
Rex as he entered the village. Rex. A false name to wear while he
posed as one of the pathetic creatures. As usual, he'd taken the
name from someone he had encountered in the past. This time, from a
man he met once in passing. There was no significance to it. It was
only a label he would wear while in this particular village. He was
not
Rex. He was the Creator’s Observer, one of several, and
his name was Erik.

###

You have reached the end of Agents of the Demiurge.
Look for part III of the Participants Trilogy, Full Vessels, in
late 2014. If you would like to support the work of this author,
please consider leaving a review at your favorite online retailer.
Thanks for reading.

Brian Blose is
an immortal Observer currently on the run from a group of zealous
coworkers intent on punishing him for crimes commited in a previous
Iteration of the world. Or maybe he’s an Army Veteran, husband,
father, software developer, and writer. Take your pick.

Either way, you should visit his author
website at
www.brianblose.com
.