9

Chapter 9 of Disease

Humans have no way no way of viewing every thread, of every panel, of this tapestry that is life. The variables and the computations overload their puny minds. And yet you, my brothers, question as to why I would object to making one of them higher than the station we hold? I object because it is one of the few impossible things I know of.

And yet, the ability to perform the impossible is a feat performed only by a god.

Darnell strode into the center of the chamber, eyes looking intently at every member of the assembly. All stared back at him, and none of the gazes were friendly. These people obviously did not want him here, and Darnell could tell. He kept shaking his head at the members as he looked at them.

“Come on, guys! I’m one of you! This isn’t some hostile takeover, I just came in because I wanted to talk to you!” He shouted, throwing his arms in the air, as if it were some big misunderstanding. The Southern drawl had left his voice, and it now sounded formal yet American.

Pontius went right up to Darnell and got right in his face.

“You, sir, are not one of us. You can never be one of us.” He said, and then spat in Darnell’s face.

Darnell just stood there, saliva dripping down his face. His eyes had narrowed, and his fists were clenched in a sign of his fury. The simple act had shown that there was no kinship to be found here, only hatred. And Robert could tell that Darnell understood. He started to shake a little with rage, and he parted his lips to reveal clenched teeth. Still staring at Pontius, Darnell lifted his right hand up to his face, wiped off the saliva with the palm of his hand, and held it up to Pontius to see. Suddenly, his hand began glowing a dark red, and the saliva began to steam. It started to evaporate into the air, and in a few seconds, Darnell’s hand was completely dry.

“You’re right,” He said, staring menacingly at Pontius, “I am not one of you. I’m more than all of you.” He raised his hand, clenched it back into a fist, and swung it at Pontius.

Instantly, a bright light flashed in front of everyone, and Pontius was gone, appearing back in his seat on the stand. He had a smug look on his face, and he pointed upward. Everyone’s eyes followed his finger, but Robert couldn’t see a thing. There was no ceiling, just darkness. Darnell, however, seemed to be able to see something just fine. He made no reaction, just stayed in his angry pose, and then looked down. A deep rumble resounded through the room, and a booming voice echoed through the chamber.

“Let all who stand witness, remember the Concurrence. So let it be written, so let it be done.” It said, and then broke off into silence.

“As much as you hate me, Janus,” Pontius said, pointing a stern finger at the man, “the Concurrence will not allow fighting between a representative and a Marvel.” He sneered condescendingly. “Even if that Marvel is not represented by this body.”

“Foolish ideals created by foolish men!” Darnell screamed, spreading his arms in show of defiance. “The Concurrence must be rewritten! And the Cloudburst is the best way to do it!”

Silence followed his dramatic statement, and a low tittering began throughout the crowd. Robert was astounded to see that several members were nodding in agreement with this statement. How could anyone think that a plague that would destroy humanity could possibly be a good thing? Had these people, so drunk with power and authority, become blind in their office?

Pontius snarled. “The Cloudburst was a grave mistake. Just because the rogue Marvels decided it would upset the balance, and transfer authority to them, does not mean that you are allowed to stride in here with your sneers and toy with this council!” He shouted, and banged his gavel on the stand. Darnell looked at him with fury written in the lines on his face.

“Mark my words, old man. I will return. And I won’t be the only Marvel you have wronged.” He said, spittle flying out of his mouth with the force of his words. And with that, he stalked out of the room.

Robert looked around the room, staring at the stony looks of the members of the delegation. Many were staring at Pontius with the same anger in their eyes.

Robert spoke quickly to diffuse the tension. “Is someone here going to tell me why I’m here?” He asked.

Pontius looked back at Robert, as if finally remembering that he was there.

“Ah, yes. Well, Mr. Thurman, as we were saying before we were so rudely interrupted, we need to know if you are the one who will destroy this plague.” He said, raising an eyebrow in Robert’s direction.

Robert gawked silently at the man, wondering where he had found the gall to make that statement. Robert had spent his entire post-Burst life working to get rid of this monstrosity. He had lost his darling wife, his beloved Elaine, to The Hungered. Jessica committed suicide after being severely devoured by the plague. What else could he be able to do, if he wasn’t able to protect his family?

Clearing his throat, he spoke to the delegation. “Ladies and Gentleman of the Caeleste, I would like to explain to you how deeply offended I am.” There was a gasp and the narrowing of eyes at this statement.

“Watch your tongue,” Pontius growled, pointing a stern finger at Robert. “This assembly has more power than you could imagine.”

‘Let me clarify,” Robert said hastily, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I am deeply offended that you would have to question my worthiness for your task. I have lost my entire family and many friends in my quest to seek a cure. This has been my modern life’s work. What more could you want?”

The assembly sat in stony silence for several moments, and Robert held his breath. Had he gone too far in his little speech? Had he managed to anger this body even further?

Pontius began to nod slowly, and several of the members did as well.  Most had unreadable faces, their arms crossed over their chests. A few were shaking their heads, rubbing their temples, or were performing some other gesture of disapproval. Robert quickly looked back to Pontius. His vote would be the one to watch for. His opinion would likely sway most of the delegation.

Pontius began to speak, and the delegates hung on his every word. “Mr. Thurman, It seems that you have indeed argued that you are the correct choice for this mission. I can scarcely imagine the pain and suffering you have been through, but let me assure you, it will make you perfectly able to perform this task.”

Several of the crowd booed and taunted, pointing accusing fingers at Pontius. They obviously were not happy, and it was strange how much Robert feared them. Pontius held up his hands to silence everyone.

“Please, Delegates, remember our code. In a decision such as this I have the full right to choose a champion of the Caeleste. Do not try my patience. Jupiter is not a merciful god, and I would hate for the punishment of the Concurrence to have to rain down upon you.” He said, staring several members right in the eye.

“So what exactly am I supposed to do?” Robert asked, looking questioningly at Pontius. Pontius smiled.

“First, we must explain to you where you are.”

The crowd began its muttering again, but this time there were more sounds of disapproval. This didn’t seem to be a popular decision.

Pontius silenced the crowd again, and then began to speak.

“This world, of Connelly Mental Institution, is not real, Mr. Thurman. Although, I’m sure you could’ve guessed that. The very fact that your dead wife suddenly appeared right under your nose is a very good sign. Whatever the case, what you must understand is that this world is separate from reality, or, at least, your reality. This world is on a separate dimension from the one you know of, and to return to your former one, you must first escape this one.”

“Using the immense power at our disposal, we transported you and several of your key friends and family to this world, with the sole purpose of reuniting you. Only by working together can you eradicate the plague.”

“Now, you may be wondering why we did not simply transport the inhabitants of your world onto a different dimension to save them. I will explain using an analogy from your physiology. Imagine these dimensions as two separate bodies, each with their own working parts and organs. Now, compare the transporting of you and your friends as the transplant of an organ, switching from one body to another. Transporting too much from the original host would most definitely kill it, with absolutely no hope for repair. There must be enough of the original pieces of your world left to support it.”

“But why is my world so important?” Robert asked, scratching his head in confusion. “Why does it matter if my world dies?”

Pontius frowned. “You mourn when one of your friends dies, Mr. Thurman, so you try to keep as many people as you can from dying.” He said. “The Compilation values each of its dimensions with the same amount of love. We do not kill worlds.”

Robert nodded, understanding the analogy; however, this was all so much to take in. Multiple dimensions and universes, and he himself was in a different one? His mind was only partially able to process it. And the fact that there was technology and power available to allow this kind of travel enflamed his skeptical mind to the breaking part.

The part that he was most unable to handle, though, was that these people claimed to represent gods. In Robert’s mind, gods did not exist. Growing up in an Atheist household, Robert quickly learned that the easiest way to figure the world out was with logic and science. That was the reason he went into biochemistry; he wanted to be able to help people without relying on prayers and chants.  He had always been an advocate of medicine and science, and many of his religious colleagues were offended because of it.

Yet, here he was, standing before an assembly of men and women claiming to represent the same almighty beings he had denied all his life. He didn’t know how to react to this kind of input. The most unsettling part of this whole business was that the evidence in their favor was staggering. These people had sent him and William back through space and time, and they were able to speak to him telepathically. What kind of normal human being was able to perform such a feat?

“Mr. Thurman, we would appreciate it if you would focus while we are telling you how to save the world.” Pontius said, in an angry tone. Robert left his thoughts and doubts for the time being, and focused solely on obtaining information for the task at hand.

“Good. Allow me to begin again,” Pontius said, and he cleared his throat. “While we have taken your friends and yourself into the world of CMHI, we cannot leave you there forever. Just as a body does function without its organs, your world will begin to die the longer you are here. You must return as safely as possible.”

“However, I must warn you, you do not belong in this world. It does not recognize you as a friend, rather, as an enemy. It will do everything in its power to destroy you. You have seen it happen already, with your friend Julius.”

“What about Julius?” Robert cried, head spinning as he tried to comprehend what Pontius meant.

“Was he not helpful when you first found him in this world? And yet, when you saw him last, was he not hostile and moving to destroy you? That is what happens when someone who does not belong to either world is assimilated into a new one.”

“What do you mean, assimilated? How was he assimilated into this one?” Robert interrupted, still utterly confused. Pontius held up his hand.

“Do not interrupt again, but listen. I will tell you all that you must know. Your friend died as we took him from your world. He was consumed by the inferno that erupted in your lab. Consequently, your world severed its hold on him, to allow him to go wherever the dead go.”

“But we had already began to take him into this world, and it recognized that he was a nomad, a soul that belonged to no world. It took him, and began to use him for his own purposes. And so that is where he is now, fighting against the very hand that kept him alive.”

“What the shint are you talking about?” Robert yelled, pounding his fists against the stand where Pontius sat. He didn’t know where all this anger was coming from, but the part of his mind that was in control didn’t care. “How could a world be able to do all these things? Worlds can’t think! They aren’t alive!” He let out all of his anger, his frustration, and his confusion in that one small burst. He collapsed down onto the ground, clinging his knees, with tears trickling down his face. He felt so lost, so out of control, he was afraid he really was going to go insane.

A strong, friendly hand reached down and touched his chin, lifting his head towards the owner’s face. Robert saw, through his tears, a smiling, aged old man staring down at him.

“Do not worry, my friend. All will be well.” He said, patting Robert on the back. He turned towards Pontius.

“Sir, great leader, this man is confused and overwhelmed. His sleep was insufficient to calm his nerves. Allow him a dose of rest, for no man can perform any task so close to the point of exhaustion.”

Pontius had a stony look on his face, but when he saw Robert, his eyes softened. He gave a curt nod, and then pounded his gavel.

“This assembly shall take a small recess. Mr. Thurman must be allowed to rest and gather his wits.”

With that, he disappeared in a flash of light, and the next thing Robert knew, he was picked up in a set of strong arms. He dropped off into slumber while he was being carried to an unknown destination.

When Robert awoke, he had absolutely no idea where or what time it was. His room was quite uniform, with the same gray walls as the institution. There was a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, swinging in a hypnotic motion. Several parts if the room were obscured in shadow, and they evoked some sort of primal fear in Robert. He shuddered. Reaching down to pull a comforter off, he noticed that he had been taken out of his prison jumpsuit and dressed in a simple, white, one-piece suit. Feeling the cloth, Robert decided that it was very comfortable. He pulled the covers off and swung his feet over the side, noting how relaxed and rested he felt.

“Ah. I was wondering when you would wake. You have been sleeping for a long time, Mr. Thurman. The world can no longer wait.” A soothing voice said, and Robert spun around quickly. The old man from the Caeleste was sitting next to his bed, and he had a kind smile on his face.

“Who are you?” Robert asked skeptically, staying where he was. The man seemed to unsettle him, and Robert could not put his finger on why.

“My name is Odin.” The man said, standing up and holding out his hand for Robert to shake. Robert slowly reached out and shook it, noting the strength in the man’s grip.

“So are you one of those representative guys? Because I’m not exactly-“

“Oh no,” Odin said hastily, shaking his head. “I’m not merely a mortal standing in for something bigger. No, I am not one of them. My name is Odin. I am one of the represented. A god of the Caeleste.”

Robert stood there for a small second, contemplating the information he had just received. Surprisingly, he found that he was more ready to accept the idea that this man was a god, now that he had some rest and time to run through the events of the past several hours. If this man said he was a god, then so he was.

As if reading his mind, Odin spoke. “Believe what you wish, Mr. Thurman, but the fact of the matter is, you have been chosen by the Caeleste to save the world. And as much as you would like to deny it, all of the things Pontius told you are true. This world is a separate dimension from the Earth that you knew.”

“I don’t see how dimensions can think and mourn like living things, though.” Robert interrupted, wishing to get his point across. They had failed to answer his question in the meeting.

Odin sighed. “That was not the most accurate of analogies. Pontius always did have a flare for the dramatic. No, Mr. Thurman, universes are not living. They cannot think., and they cannot mourn.”

“They are, however, as the parts of a large machine. Each has it’s own purpose, and it’s own function. And each of these pieces is made up of their own pieces: the organisms and living things that dwell on the world. All of these work together in harmony to support the whole of the machine, with each small piece, however insignificant, providing stability and purpose to the whole. If you were to take away too many of the pieces of one part and place them in another, both would cease functioning because of the added or detracted weight and burden. Balance must be contained.”

“There comes a time when a piece has gotten old or rusted, and some sort of scouring must occur to clean or fix the piece so it may run correctly again. The Burst was seen as one of these actions; however, it did far more than the Council intended. It threatened to completely destroy the Earth, which would have completely shut down the machine. That is where you come in.”

“What am I in this grand comparison?” Robert asked, now intrigued.

“You are the maintenance man, sent in to fix and possibly replace the broken part. But you will not be alone. Oh no, you will not be alone. No maintenance man is without his tools.”

My tools? Robert thought.

“But you will receive those later. As of right now, Mr. Thurman, you must go to be equipped.”

He gestured for Robert to follow him. He walked toward a wall, pressed a few hidden buttons on the wall, and the wall slid open, revealing a metal hallway outside. Odin walked into it, turned left, and disappeared down the passageway.

Robert quickly ran through the door, which closed behind him. He saw Odin rounding a corner, and he sprinted to catch up with him.

“My apologies, Mr. Thurman,” Odin said, noticing Robert breathing heavily behind him. “I must learn that there is not a need for haste in everything. I will attempt to work on it in the future.”

As he said this, his face began scrunching up, as if he was in pain. His hand went to his chest, and Odin was also breathing heavily for a few seconds. Robert put his hand on Odin’s shoulder, steadying him.

“You okay?” He asked, slightly worried at the fact that a god was feeling pain.

Odin nodded, straightening his body. He turned briskly on the spot and began marching down the hallway once more, leaving Robert to follow him.

After several minutes of walking down the hallway, passing no other people, they made it to another door. Odin went up to it, pressed a few buttons, and it opened with a hiss. Odin stood beside it, with his arms crossed behind his back.

“Enter, Mr. Thurman.”

Robert looked at him for a second, and then nodded. Slowly he approached the door, wondering what wonders it might hold. He entered through the threshold.

And immediately began to choke.

The room was filled with darkness, but not the metaphorical kind. This was darkness was literally suffocation, and Robert was not able to draw in even an ounce of breath. He heard Odin shut the door, leaving him in darkness.

Don’t worry, Robert. You will be fine soon enough. Samuel Hunt’s voice said, then laughed. Well, fine is a relative term. Alive would be better.

He cackled as Robert fell into unconsciousness.

“Dad?” A female voice called out from the darkness. “Is that you?”