Slumrat Rising

Truth looked up through the humid summer sky at the burning heavens above. Each little dot of light a being so utterly beyond him as to defy description. Each moving dot is another being of impossible scope and majesty. For example, the one he was laying down on.

Kind of a brain twister, isn’t it? I’m laying on what is unquestionably a big ball of rock with stuff growing on it. I have seen it from orbit. Big ball of rock with water and trees and… stuff. Humanity. So big you lose any sense of scale. Just nothing to measure it against. And at the same time, it is also a demon. Or an angel. Or some being that blurs the lines between both. Just by existing on another plane of reality, it creates and maintains the world. I mean… just…

He grasped for words. He didn’t wind up finding them. All he could do was stare upwards in awe.

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Truth smiled at that. A sad little thing.

There is only one slum. We just see different parts of it. Rats of different sizes and colors. Rats with different strategies depending on the ledge they cling to or what toxic food they can eat from the overflowing dumpsters. What waters they lap out of the poison canals. And you think Cup and Knife is a spell for… fixing the slum?

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It’s just so… odd to try and nail down with words. I can’t cast a spell that affects the whole world. At this point, I’m not even sure Starbrite can, even with his… nascent soul abomination thing he has going on. But Manda gives Vek an absolute mountain of visions, loads him up with partially functional spells, and once he firmly has everyone’s attention, spikes him with Cup and Knife. The spell might not be popular, but it’s so useful as a foundation it gets copied everywhere. It’s never lost, in other words.

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Truth looked through the leaves a while longer, just sitting with the thought. His notion about what a better world might look like was still rough, still bound up in fantasy. It’s fine to say “Nobody should starve,” but getting from “should” to “Everyone eats enough good food,” was a lot harder.

Do you make farming mandatory? Or if you are going to force demons to do it, do you force people to become demon binders? Farm supervisor mages? Forced labor again, just a slightly different stripe. You could bribe the supervisors with better resources, but that would bring you straight back to the fat rats, just with a few more steps. Put intelligent spirits in charge, bound by tight laws governing what they may and may not do? Someone has to bind them at some point. It’s the same old drag.

At the end of it, he kept coming back to cultivation and money. Cultivation meant you had more personal power. Money meant you had other people's power. In either case, it was an imbalance that put some above others. He had yet to see someone use that power selflessly.

Merkovah made no bones about his selfish motivations. Starbrite sure didn’t either. His experience as the Prince was… not a positive one for the people around him. Even the somewhat alien Nephilim seemed to rejoice in being bullies. There didn’t seem to be a way out of the loop as it spun ‘round and ‘round. You could move people with the promise of power, but once someone had power, you wished they didn’t.

On a whim, he fished out Thrush’s token. “Thrush, what does a better world look like to you?”

The inky bird hopped out, almost invisible in the shadows.

“I am certain I don’t understand, Dread Magus.”

“Someone has elevated you. Raised your power to that of a stellar eminence and commanded that you transform this world into one that is, if not perfect, at least better. Better for humans to live on.”

There was a little shimmer in the dark. The inky black bird was preening his feathers. Truth could see in near perfect darkness now, but the bird practically dissolved into the shadows.

“You know, I don’t think I have ever been asked that question. Imps rarely are asked for advice by persons of standing. I think our low station limits our vision, and thus our usefulness.”

It hopped around a little. “But then, you have always been special. Were I to command the world, ordering things as I saw fit? I would bind each person in an illusion. They would be neatly stacked in caves, their bodies cared for. Their births and deaths would occur without their awareness of it.”

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Thrush warmed to his task. “In a word, I would divorce mind and body. The bodies would be in the care of the demons I set for that task. Their minds would be spent in eternal worship. A state of perpetual religious ecstasy. All parts of their mind capable of other thoughts would be suppressed utterly or excised entirely. It would be a world of innocence and peace. A world without sin or sinners.”

The little bird chuckled melodically. “Though I suppose I would be rather doing myself out of a job.”

Truth nodded at that. It made sense. It fit the instructions perfectly. Humanity would be perfectly cared for. Happy, healthy, free from sin, and essentially plants. Very happy plants. But plants.

“No interest in human progress?”

“Is it not progress? I think it is the apogee of human ambition. Every need perfectly cared for, and existences full of meaning and fulfillment. No hollow feeling of false satisfaction, or the narcotic pleasures of the flesh. No obliteration of the mind with cheap entertainment.” Truth could hear the smile in the voice. “True, complete, and comprehensive satisfaction. A miniature of Heaven, to whatever extent I could manage.”

Truth nodded. “Of course, you could extend that a step further. Get rid of all the humans. Once they no longer exist, they can no longer suffer in this world.”

“Yes. There would be a transition period of extreme suffering, of course. The necessary refinements of Hell. But after that? All would be peaceful, and free of suffering. However, you did specify that this world was to be made better for humans to live on.”

“I did say that.” Truth smiled up into the night. “I ask a lot of questions. I’m starting to think asking the questions over and over is more important than deciding which answer is right. Your answer is totally correct. I think most humans would find it revolting. I sure do. On the other hand, it is actually better than any answer I have come up with. So what should I do?”

Thrush laughed softly. “Alas, this little bird must live without seeing his vision accomplished. This world will be doomed to suffer a while longer it seems. You should keep asking the question, of course. Groping towards ‘better,’ while giving up on ‘best.’”

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Truth found an evacuated village the next day. He gave it a look over- not torn down or burned down, but utterly empty. Anything of military use, especially food, had been taken. Even the water summoning talismans had been ripped off the walls. Truth did find one, half hidden on the exterior of a house, clearly meant to be attached to a hose. Incisive trilled a little warning when he reached for it. Boobytrapped. As were the beds, the cupboards and most of the streets.

He looked around a bit, just to get an appreciation of the artform. There was a distinct preference for “high value” targets like cold boxes or closets, but some sinisterly mundane ones too. He particularly appreciated the way a careless step through a door would trigger a blast of shrapnel, but a person standing on the front step for more than two seconds, say, for example, disarming a fairly obvious boobietrap, would trigger a more upward-directed explosion.

The dolls with explosive talismans in them were a little more expected, but no less sad. And creepy. The coffee cup with a small explosive charm under it was downright malicious.

An hour spent in fruitful self education later, he was back on the road. Exactly one minute after that, Incisive screamed at him.

Truth squeezed hard on the brakes. The iron horse skidded a few meters, then the near-bald tires finally burst, sending shreds of rubber and metal everywhere. Truth was catapulted over the handlebars, doing a neat flip over the near-invisible wire stretched across the road at neck height. As he was falling, he had the horrible certainty that he was about to land on a mine. Using his inhuman reflexes, he was just able to stretch a hand out and down in time to stop his fall.

Stopping your fall, keeping your body suspended in the air with a single hand that is not under your center of gravity requires both strength and focus. It was a very tense and still moment, as Truth struggled to regain control of the situation.

It was at this point that the ruined two-wheeler slid into the minefield.

A wave of buried charms activated, triggered by the passing corpse of the iron horse. Anti-vehicle, it looked like, lances of molten steel and copper punching upwards, ripping apart whatever was over them, then spatting outwards. If they had punched into the interior of a carriage or a wagon, especially one that just lost its driver from a suspended wire, the casualties would be catastrophic. As it was, Truth just had burning metal falling around him.

He waited a moment longer, to see if there was a follow up. After a minute, he decided it was time to walk out of the minefield. He carefully lowered his other hand, and walked out. It was an upside down sort of day. He’d just go with it. As for the two wheeler? There wasn’t enough left to sell for scrap. He could try Cup and Knife on it, but… No. It had earned its final rest.

Guess we start in on Earth Folding Step earlier than intended.

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Twice in a day wouldn’t even be a new record for me.

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Fair. Truth glanced at his plain wooden ring hiding months of food inside, and touched his thankfully unharmed scarf. Though I must admit I like a good upgrade.

He consulted his road atlas. It was practically in pieces by now, but he had hopes for stretching the service life a little longer. It was a forty kilometer jog to the next little town. He would have to see what things looked like when he got there.

What did a better world look like? How could he change it? One step at a time.

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