Slumrat Rising

For I am the first and the last.

I am the honored one and the scorned one.

I am the whore and the holy one.

I am the wife and the virgin.

I am the mother and the daughter.

I am the members of my mother.

I am the barren one

and many are her sons.

The Prophet stood on a stump and chanted their favorite hymn. Truth sat on a rock and listened. Some of the other villagers had followed them around for a few days, but by the end of the first week, the Prophet had vanished into the village like a rock into a dry stream bed. Truth sometimes wondered if he was the only one who remembered what a strange, new person they had in their midst.

The Prophet was facing the sky, waving grandly as they spoke, but Truth could spot them peeking at him now and then. He had heard the hymn many times now, and had no better idea what it meant. The Prophet could see it too. They stopped with a sudden sagging of the shoulders.

“It’s a little frustrating, you know? You are the only one who keeps on listening, and you keep on not understanding.”

Truth nodded. He could see how that would get frustrating. Usually a teacher would hit you if you were that kind of slow, but the Prophet didn’t hit people. Just another way they were weird. A small breeze stirred the light dirt. It hadn’t rained in a long while, but that was fine. Wrong season for it. The tough, scrubby bushes and long-rooted grasses were used to living thirsty.

“Did you… have a comment on that, or a reply?” The Prophet probed.

“No. I can see how that would bother you.” Truth nodded. Then waited. The Prophet sagged even more.

“I think it’s the way you don’t get frustrated. You know you are ignorant, but you just accept it and calmly do something about it.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” Truth asked.

“Yes. And it’s very frustrating.” The Prophet started waving their hands. “This is some secrets-of-the-universe stuff here. This is some ultimate nature of humanity and reality revelations. Where’s the fire in the belly? The hungry eyes devouring me, wishing you could rip the knowledge from my mind and jam it into your own?”

Truth firmly shook his head. “I would never wish that. I have eaten brains before, and I would hate to have the wisdom of a sheep.”

The Prophet gave up and sat on the stump. “But you do want to learn, or you wouldn’t be here, listening to me. I wouldn’t be here, if you weren’t so determined to listen.”

“Well, this is some secrets-of-the-universe stuff here, and it seems like a good thing to know. For example, I don’t think you have ever explained what the universe is.”

“Do you get hit a lot?”

“Yes, but you learn how to take a hit. One day I will have children, and then it will be my turn to do the beating. I’m looking forward to it, honestly.” Truth had a little smile. Kids ment he would be married, and he was getting to that age. There were a few girls about his age who had caught his eye, and he had been loudly dropping hints to his parents.

“That’s… not a good thing. Have you ever heard the expression “the cycle of violence?”

“No. What’s a cycle?”

The Prophet let out a long sigh, looking up into the thin blue of the sky.

“Well. In a way, your questions are related. What the universe is, and what a cycle is. Ah… imagine the desert.”

Truth nodded. The desert was barely five minutes walk from where they were sitting. Though the high desert didn’t start until you were more than a day’s walk from here.

“Alright, so you can imagine the sand in the desert without any trouble, right? Right. But you would have a hard time imagining each individual grain of sand in the desert. That’s way too many. Way more than you could count in your lifetime, let alone keep all of them in your mind at the same time.”

Truth nodded again. “And this is a cycle?”

“No.” The prophet looked up to the heavens and pressed on. “This is the universe. The universe is everything. It is the desert AND it is all the grains of sand that make up the desert AND it is the idea of all those grains of sand making up a thing called the desert. It is the fixed memory of a boy called Truth staring at a patch of millions of individual grains of sand and going ‘Yep, desert.’ All that is the universe.”

“And you telling me about it is the universe too?”

“Yes.” The prophet smiled slightly. “The stars in the sky, the sky, the sun, the clouds, every single thing you can see or imagine, every single thing that is is the universe.”

“Wow. And it has secrets?”

“Yes. Profound ones. Look, do you ever wonder what happens when you die?”

“No.” Truth firmly shook his head. This seemed to throw the Prophet again.

“Really? Never? No questions at all?”

“Nope.”

“None?”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Not one.”

The Prophet made little grasping motions with their hands. “Why? I don’t even know what you worship here.”

“The Great God of Storms.”

“Yes. Obviously. Do you by any chance happen to know which Great God of Storms?”

“The Great God of Storms. I’m sure the others are fine, but ours is the best.”

“Yes. Definitely. Why?” The Prophet asked.

“Because old man Ebbik says so, and everyone agrees, and I nearly got my hide torn off when I asked if we were really stuck cattle farming in the afterlife, so clearly the answer is yes, and I now have all my answers.” Truth hesitated a moment. “But if there are secrets to this universe thing, maybe Ebbik doesn't have all the information. Hmm.”

“Good. Yes. Keep going.”

“There is more than just cattle farming? Like, raiding for brides and loot?”

“You kept going but took the wrong turn. Ebbik doesn’t have all the information. No one in this flyspeck village has all the information. I don’t have all the information.”

“Ah. So who does?”

“God.”

“The Great God of Storms?” Truth asked.

“Sure, him. Her. Whatever. Look. When we talk about “God,” we, all of us, are like you. Trying to imagine the desert as all those little grains of sand is impossible. We just lump it together and don’t think too hard about what it actually means.”

“Alright?”

“So think about “God.” Something big enough to create everything. Something strong enough to create everything. To rule over life and death-” Truth raised his hand. The Prophet drooped. “You are poly- that is, you worship multiple gods?”

“No, just the Great God of Storms, but there are others, you know. Wouldn’t want to get married without the Mother of Rivers’ blessing after the feast.” Truth explained.

“Yeah, fair.” The Prophet rubbed their eyes and looked over at the young man who, against all available evidence, was going to be their all time best student and follower.

“But what’s the secret?” Truth asked.

“Secrets, plural, and the first one is that you can’t just be told. You have to get your own understanding of them. Not just thinking it through, but divine revelation, something that sears a piece of the mystery straight into your mind and soul.”

Truth looked rocked, then narrowed his eyes. “But you can’t eat God’s brain, right? So you can’t do that knowledge cramming thing you were talking about before. Which is why it’s a secret.”

“Yes! Exactly.” The Prophet offered their palms to the sky in a gesture of thanks.

“And your hymn starts making more sense once you have had some of these revelations?”

“Also yes.”

“Ok… so what’s the universe? Just everything?”

“No. Well, alright, yes, it is “everything,” but “everything” is a lot more than you are thinking. Like, do you think a sheep knows what the desert is? Or does it just know it can’t find grass or water?” The Prophet asked.

“Can’t find grass or water.”

“Right. Because the idea of a “desert” does not exist for it. It literally cannot think of something that way. Same thing with humans. Just too small, too simple to really wrap your head around the concept of “everything.” Because if you really could understand “everything” you would be God.”

“Why? I can’t put a baby in a mountain’s belly.” Truth cocked his head to the side, then frowned. “Probably. I haven’t tried. It looks uncomfortable, and I am saving myself for marriage.”

“Because you would understand everything, including how to do that. Or why you shouldn’t do that. Or what would happen if you tried to knock up a mountain. Not imagining it, knowing it. Because you know the past and the future too, as it is part of ‘everything.’ The story of every single grain of sand, everywhere, and the story of every living thing to ever have looked at that single grain of sand. You would know EVERYTHING. And nothing mortal can do that. So you would be more than mortal. More than a demon. You would be God.”

“Huh.” Truth opened his eyes wide. The Prophet was on tenterhooks. Surely this time-

“So, when Old Man Ebbik gets the shits after hitting the radishes and eggs a bit too hard, like the really-”

“Please. Please stop.” The Prophet looked like they were about to cry. “None of this. The divine wonder of the universe. The sheer scope of it. The glory and mystery of it all. None of it reaches you?”

“None of what? I don’t know anything about what you are talking about, so why would I care about it?”

“Ah! So if you knew, would you care?”

“Maybe? Or at least I would be able to decide if I care. It’s why I hang around you. You know all these things, and I am learning things, so one day I can decide what I care about. Maybe it will involve a universe, or a cycle, whatever that is.” Truth had a crooked little smile.

The Prophet drummed their fingers on the tree stump. This was a toughie. Usually the tantalizing mysteries were enough to pull someone in. Flash a little theological leg, maybe get them high and show them visions, pretty soon you had an acolyte going.

But Truth wasn’t going to do any of that. He was interested, sure, but not fascinated. He didn’t have that hungry ambition. Which was a problem. Kind of. Well. They had all the time in the world, so. Maybe make him a long term project?

The Prophet sighed again, looking around the small place their student lived. This… universe he was so bored with. So far from God, so near the Creator. It wasn’t a fraction of the astonishing glory of the Pleroma, but then, what was? It wasn’t bad enough to merit total indifference. There were some good bits. And maybe there would be enough teachers out there who could explain things to him.

Yeah. Make them go crazy, not me. The Prophet nodded. This was a good plan.

“So, hypothetically, if you could do something else, would you skip the eternity of cattle farming?” The Prophet asked.

“No, I have never hypotheticalled. I keep very clean.” Truth shot to his feet, outraged.

The Prophet swore mightily and shot to their feet too. “I MEAN WHAT IF YOU GOT TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN! What if, instead of bad-touching cows forever, you got to live your life over and over and over. Until you did understand things. Maybe not all the things forever, but enough to let you decide what it is you care about?”

Truth looked rocked, then fascinated. “Would I still be me?”

“Kinda-sorta? I mean, you are living your life over and over again. It’s not going to all be in this little village. Way more to see and learn. That’s going to change you.”

“Oh wow. That does sound pretty good.” He hesitated. “Will I still get-”

“Yes, wife, husband, sexy mountain, whatever, I don’t care. I do not care. Yes to all of it.”

“It does sound better than herding the divine cattle for eternity. Sure. How does it all work? Another mystery?”

“Yes. A complete mystery. Until you remember. Remember it all.”

“Alright, I will.” Truth smiled. “So, until then, what’s a cycle?”

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