Divine Intervention (TG, Science Fiction)

I wake up feeling disoriented. I'm sitting in an office? It's a comfortable chair… old fashioned leather, a nice deep red… why am I naked? At least I'm not tied down… I take a look around. Old mahogany desk, walls lined with books to the point I can't even tell if there's an actual wall there… the ceiling is a tapestry of stars… oh, and a comet… that's moving… umm… fun trick… I look at the man sitting on the other side of the desk and…

And I am WIDE awake. Man? More like a demon! Coal black skin, black ram's horns that come up out of his forehead, curl around behind his ears, and slowly close into a seemingly endless spiral. A build fit to make Mr. Universe weep with envy. His hair is black fire. No, not on fire, he has actual fire for hair. Except instead of giving off light, it's sucking it from the room. The “shadow” of my hand makes the chair behind it lighter. And his eyes… they're not there. He has empty eye sockets that are two gaping voids into infinite nothingness.

And for some reason, he's wearing a perfectly ordinary business suit. With a red tie. It's a nice one… silk, maybe? He lifts his hands… coal black, six fingers and thumb tipped with claws that make razors look dull… and folds them in front of him. He stares at me intently, and I find I can't meet his distinct lack of gaze, instead keeping my eyes on his desk, examining the wood grain.

It's a nice desk.

Eventually, he breaks the silence: “Why you?” It doesn't sound like he's asking me, so I don't respond. He continues, “Twenty seven years of age, an adult by your standards, not exceptionally intelligent or skilled…”

“You don't have to rub it in…” I pout.

He keeps going, “...a little above average intelligence, a little below average strength… but nothing special. So why you?”

“How would I know?” I risk a glance up and immediately regret it, something primal in the dark recesses of my head freezing me with fear when I meet his gaze of the void.

“You wouldn't.” He pauses, “Ah, hold a bit…” I can't move anyway, Mr. He pulls out a pair of completely ridiculous cheap plastic mirrored sunglasses from a desk drawer, and puts them on. He looks like a throwback to a seventies movie, it's completely ridiculous. “Better?”

Surprisingly, “Yes. Umm. What's going on?”

“You died.” He pauses, “A truck. You were a bit drunk, the driver was a bit fatigued, you stepped into the road without looking, he didn't see you in time. There was no malice involved. A simple accident. And then Dad brought you here. Because somehow, you're the solution to my problem.”

“So what's the problem?” I'm still confused.

“I am not supposed to tell you that,” the incarnation of darkness in front of me shrugs, “Dad's instructions. I am to name you my Champion. I am not to give you any orders.

I am to give you the boon you request, not one that I assign, within the limits of the boons for Champions. I am to reincarnate you as an adult after tuning you to this Fractal, leaving your memory intact. I have a list of questions I am not supposed to answer, of which ‘So what's the problem?’ is - verbatim - the first. I am otherwise to be as honest with you as I can within the normal rules of deity/mortal communication. And somehow, this will solve my problem.”

The gears in my head start to turn. “So what are the rules of the boon?”

I feel a strange itching in my head for a moment, and the demonic entity answers, “It needs to be phrased simply; no strings of ‘and’, it's just the one boon. Likewise, no ‘infinite wishes’ kind of boons: Your Boon can't be that you get all of the boons. It can only cover a single subject matter, and I have to be able to afford it.”

“I'll need to think about that,” I consider, mulling it over in my head. “What's the world like?”

Again that itching. “Worlds. Plural. This Fractal contains many planes of existence, and many inhabited planets. You'd call it a mash up of science fiction and fantasy. Travel between worlds is mostly done via starship with a planar drive called a Drift Engine, but there are other options. The peoples are widely varied. Humans like you were, elves, goblins, orcs, sentient walrus-like people, machine intelligences…” he pauses, “how much detail would you like?”

“So like Starfinder then?” I tilt my head.

Again with the itching… it lasts a lot longer this time, and stops when he answer, “There's some differences, but… yes. VERY MUCH like Starfinder. It is, in fact, so similar, that I expect Dad arranged to model one after the other, and as Dad is my witness, I have no idea which way.”

“What’s with the itching in my head before you answer?” It's been bugging me.

This time, the itching doesn't happen. “I'm retrieving context. We have very different backgrounds (to put it mildly), and when you ask a question, I need the context to understand what you mean by the question, and I need the context to phrase the answer such that you will understand. No harm is intended.”

Umm. “So you can just rifle through my head whenever you feel like it?”

“Yes. I'm a deity. You're a mortal in my realm. It's how it works.” He shrugs, “...and for all that, in many ways, I serve YOU at the command of Dad. Make of that what you will.”

Umm. “Who's ‘Dad’?”

That itching again. “Dad is my adoptive father. He is The Supreme. The Great Unmoved Mover. The Maker of All. He has many other titles as well. What's a good analogy…” he considers, and my head itches briefly, “...an amoeba is a simple form of life that you know. It is made up of molecules, which are made up of atoms, which are made up of particles like electrons, protons, and neutrons, which are made up of… well, you haven't gotten there yet. In a sense, you are as high above an amoeba as an amoeba is above an electron. In a similar sense, I am as high above you as you are above an amoeba. If we try to use that scale, it still doesn't work: He is higher above me than I am above such a particle. If you were to make a scale from one end of the universe to the other, put Him at the top, and include both me and an electron… a ‘scanning electron microscope’ could not tell my entry apart from that of the fundamental particle. No scale works. He is infinite, immeasurable. And for reasons I cannot even begin to guess at, He says I am His beloved child.”

I blink a few times. So… I'm standing in the presence of a self-proclaimed deity, and he says he's nothing. Uhm. However, my mulling in the back of my head gets back to me, “This Starfinder similarity… does that include ‘character creation’, ‘advancement’, and similar?”

No itching, apparently he remembers enough context for this, “Yes, although most people never actually encounter the mechanics. It just happens naturally that they become better at the things they do as they level.”

I nod slowly, “Then for my boon, can I do ‘my character’ myself according to my DM's normal house rules?”

I feel that itch again as my host tilts his head, “Yes, I can swing that. There's going to be some translation of various items, but by and large…” he straightens up, “...it's surprisingly affordable: Exceptions are all handled during level up rather than when you actually use your abilities. That's the one you want?”

I consider, “The translations being… let me guess… things like the familiar to mechanic’s drone conversation?”

Ugh, that itch is annoying… “Yes. Looks like Dad already arranged for you to be familiar with the majority of the kinds of changes I will need to make.” The darkness in front of me chuckles, “...as always, he is way ahead of everyone.”

“Do you have a rough idea of my plans? Anything critical unavailable?” No point in saying them given that he reads my mind.

That itching again, “As much as you do, Dan, and… summon monster will use the ‘Starfinder version’,” yes, he does air quotes with those very scary fingers, “but you don't consider that critical… Wings of Cover is a go… everything you're currently thinking about that you consider critical is fine, and we'll be able to go over specifics during the actual level ups when plans change.” The darkness considers, “Oh, and before I forget: In addition to the Boon from me, I can be reasonably confident that my sister will give you a ‘Boon’ as well.” Again, air quotes.

“So this boon is more of a curse, then?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Correct,” the demonic entity nods, the fire of darkness serving as the hair on his head waving in the air, “There's rules about it. Whatever she picks will be beneficial… from a certain point of view. She can't do something like remove your ability to communicate, make you have no arms, or make you so hideous that nobody will deal with you… but she could give you literal gold hair to mark you for capture, make you supernaturally attractive so everyone always bothers you, give you a voice that makes you extremely memorable so you can't both talk to people AND stay under the radar, that kind of thing. And of course, she has her own champion, whom she'll almost certainly sic on you indirectly. She can't give her champion orders about you specifically until after said champion comes into specific knowledge of you… but she can, say, give instructions about killing everyone who has literal gold hair, or people who are supernaturally attractive, or go after that voice.”

“And you can't give me such orders regarding… him?” I venture.

“Correct.” No itching, nice.

“And you didn't use pronouns because you can't give me any information on the man.”

“Correct.” Again.

“And she's very much higher level than I am, I'm assuming.” Trying something.

“Almost correct,” the entity in front of me frowns,”...but I can't say why.”

Okay. Yes, that's a loophole. I can work with that. “What are my other options, if I don't wish to go along with this?”

The darkness raises an eyebrow… which is a much smaller version of his hair flame, “Then you're dead. You do have the option of staying dead, in which case I would need to give you back to Dad because your soul isn't tagged for this Fractal. I expect he would then send you to whatever afterlife you would have reached had he not intervened. You have that option, technically.”

“I want to live, so I will be your champion. How do we…” I stop, because I can't move anymore.

“For the first step, you just needed to officially accept. And now my sister will apply her ‘boon’... and she doesn't go with the discussion bit, so you're stuck while she picks.” He cringes, “Sorry.”

“Not as sorry as he's going to be…” a feminine voice from outside my line of sight chuckles… and I can't even move my eyes. Really? Ugh, she's on a power trip.

“A Boon from a deity… and all you pick is the ability to pick your own path?” She chuckles, “That's a riot. My champion will make mincemeat of you when he sees you.” Ah, good; the loophole works.

“Actually…” I can hear her grinning evilly, “I'm thinking I can turn you into a sweet little reward for him… enjoy your new body while you still have control… I know my champion's tastes perfectly. Hehehhe…”

A searing pain hits me. My inability to move a millimeter, and the fact that I'm already seated, being the only things preventing me from falling down screaming in agony. My bones crack, the feel of the seat beneath me changes, and my perspective lowers as every nerve fires in searing pain. I watch in my peripheral vision as two very large, fleshy orbs push out from my chest. It feels like an eternity…

…and at exactly the moment my body stops reshaping, the ‘Demon’ interrupts, “Enough. You have applied your ‘blessing’, which means Dad's instructions to let you into my realm for this interview have expired. Leave.”

And at that last word, the pain ends as suddenly as it began, and I can move again….