Short Story - Consonance of Chaos and Presence
The following short story is based on an event that happened during the end session 169 of Tales of Meras, the campaign I have been running since 2021. The event in question is a dream experienced by the character Zakesh, whose memories have become intertwined with those of a great Aquanti captain, Atrion, due to issues involving a long history of reincarnations and genetic memory. For those reasons, this story lacks a great amount of context.
This story was originally written in portuguese, and then translated by myself.
This text has not been proofread, and likely never will be.
Consonance of Chaos and Presence
“Atrion?” Organesh asked, worried.
“What?!” he replied, startled.
“You’re talking in your sleep again…” she touched his shoulder gently, “talk to me. What’s going on?”
"Those... those visions again, Organesh. They won’t stop; it’s as if the world is dissolving into a glitching screen."
"We should check this out with Rivanna, don’t you think? It’s been three months since we set foot in this world, and you’re still... "
"I know."
"Since you already know... why don’t we do it tomorrow? I still think it was your contact with the flow of the waters on our journeys."
"Yes. It’s hard to remember what’s real; this isn’t..." a new shockwave suddenly lashed at the Aquanti captain’s senses. Before his eyes, it was as if Organesh’s face were breaking apart into hundreds of geometric fragments and sliding sideways, erratically. "Arhghhh!" He clutched the sides of his head in pain.
"Atrion?!" She approached, trying to comfort him.
"Let go of me!" He shouted in response, dashing toward the bedroom door, flinging it open, and rushing down the hallway.
"Atrion!" She followed close behind.
The screech came once more, assaulting the Aquanti’s mind. As he made his way through the corridors of the Aquanti expedition’s executive quarters, the world around him shattered into equidistant pieces. A voice, punctuated by the screams of an invisible machine, occasionally screamed directly into his auditory cortex:
"It’s my fault!" The sound of the voice was electric and anguished. It was a female voice, though some of the sounds could be mistaken for the terrifying scraping of two metal parts.
“Who are you?!” the Aquanti screamed, crashing into the walls as he tried to swim out of the underwater station. Organesh followed close behind, shouting:
“Atrion! Stop, come back here!” But his voice mingled with the electronic screeches that were consuming his companion’s mind.
Atrion eventually reached the hatch in front of the walkway leading to the rest of the station, built on the beach. Emerging from the water, he ran across the metal platform, looking around. The satellite orbiting the world watched him with its single dark eye, with silent scorn.
“Atrion!” Organesh emerged from the hatch, running barefoot along the walkway. She breathed deeply through her mouth, while her gills opened and closed slowly.
Silence.
The screeching had stopped. Atrion, also barefoot, leaned wearily on his knees. “What the hell is going on?” was his main thought. The past few months had seen similar crises, but nothing as intense as those of the last few days. All because of this strangely abandoned world. His head was still throbbing from the noise, and his chest ached from the rapid decompression.
“Atrion…” Organesh finally reached him, placing a hand on his back. “Darling… talk to me.”
“Z-Zudresha?” He lifted his head, asking in confusion. That was obviously not Organesh’s name, but those were the syllables that came out of his lips.
“Zudre… who…?” And then, a realization. Organesh’s eyes flashed with understanding, and then, fear. “Zakesh?”
Atrion looked up, and the ground vanished beneath his feet. He saw Organesh’s face become distant as he fell. And then darkness.
▨▨▨
The sound of the wind and steel were the first things he heard. Another glitch sound, and then his body suddenly rose up onto a vast plain of ash. The wind blew, whistling as it passed through a colossal structure in the center of the empty field. Countless steel cables and beams twisted in an exponential pattern that rose toward the heavens, disappearing above dark clouds through which the rays of an invisible sun pierced. A stronger gust of wind occasionally made the entire metallic structure screech and creak.
Standing, Atrion began to walk toward the colossus.
The Aquanti captain had always been a man of action. To him, it mattered little what magical or metaphysical event had brought him there, but rather how all of this confirmed that, as he had suspected, something was wrong.
In that world, he was dressed in a light uniform, and still at his waist was his trusty anti-matter pistol, drawn so quickly as soon as he took his first steps toward the tower. Inside, the darkness was broken by various beams of light piercing the iron shell.
He wandered around the place for who knows how long, always on guard, always looking back, afraid that something would leap out of the shadows toward him.
“You’re going the wrong way.” announced a female voice, echoing through the ruins of a massive warehouse. It was mischievous and had a slight lilt to it.
Atrion leaped to the side, pointing his gun in the direction of the voice. What he saw was a pale child with white hair and grayish eyes. Her hair was long enough to almost touch the floor, and a spectral light hovered around her.
“Who are you?” asked the Aquanti, still holding the pistol. His hands were shaking, and sweat was dripping from his forehead.
“Your worst nightmare!” she shouted in response, and before the Aquanti could react to the comment, she continued, “Just kidding.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
"You can call me Creation. And I’ll say it again, big guy: you’re heading the wrong way."
"What do you mean, the wrong way?"
"The wrong way, duh. If you keep walking that way..." she pointed in the direction the Aquanti was walking, "...you’ll end up at the exit again. Of course, if you want to leave, then it wouldn’t be the wrong path anymore. But you don’t want to leave."
"What makes you so sure?"
"There are no answers on the outside."
"And where are there?"
"Up" she looked up "or down" she then looked down.
"And what’s down there?"
"Abandonment. Pain. Oblivion... Chaos."
"And what’s up there?"
"Creation. Guilt. Strength... Presence."
"And which of those explains why I’m here?"
"Both. But if you want a smoother, less scary ride, you’ll want to go up."
"That’s exactly where I’m going then. Which way is it?"
"This way. I’ll walk with you. It’s nice to have someone to talk to."
And they both started walking.
"Isn’t there anyone to talk to here?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Two people, but neither of them is really much fun to chat with."
"Who?"
"Guilt, and him. You must have heard the Voice of Guilt; she talks a lot."
"That’s possible." Atrion remembered the headaches and the screeches that came along with the glitches. "And him?"
“The one responsible for all this… though we both helped too… I’ll tell you his name in a minute.”
“Why not tell me now?”
“Because I don’t want to.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Of course.” The captain replied, disappointed.
The voices fell silent, and their footsteps echoed more loudly as they began climbing the stairs. Step by step, with no wall to separate them from an increasingly catastrophic fall. Eventually, they left one level behind for another, and when they did, everything seemed to become more abstract. Near the ground, the tower was a tangle of cables and broken parts intertwined like an abandoned junkyard. The higher they climbed, however, that detail faded away: the gray color of the metal gave way to lighter shades of gray, and eventually to white. The texture of iron and rust was replaced by a complete absence of texture. Everything then seemed to be illuminated by a dim light that appeared to come from everywhere. Neither of them cast a shadow.
They didn’t speak to each other again for a while. The staircase seemed endless, but Atrion didn’t feel tired, nor did the girl. Then, a break in the landscape: as they turned from one flight to the next, the shadowy figure of yet another woman. Apparently older and with a complexion as dark gray as rain clouds, the figure wept, sitting on the steps. Cracks like those in broken porcelain covered her skin, and her tears fell like glass onto the steps, rolling down below. The captain was startled by the sudden image, but before he could even react, he saw the woman scream and shatter into hundreds of pieces.
"Such a drama queen, isn't it?" Commented the Voice of Creation, rolling his eyes.
"I suppose that was the Guilt you mentioned earlier?"
"Unfortunately, yes. She's a poor thing; she's not much use now. But I love her. Without her, little would have been created."
“Guilt, motivating the creation of something? Why?”
“Well, she’d be worse off if she didn’t.”
“Hmm.” He replied dryly. Another wave of silence fell over the two of them.
“You should relax. You’re too tense.”
“It’s hard, girl. I feel like at any moment..." he laughs, softly, to himself "something beyond my comprehension is going to leap out of the shadows and: either kill me, or drive me crazy with things I shouldn’t understand."
"Nonsense. It’s all very simple." She replied, with contempt in her voice.
"What?"
"Reality. There’s nothing that drives you crazy because you don’t understand it. All of this here, and that over there too, is very simple."
"I don’t feel like it is."
"Soon you will."
"I doubt it."
"Doubting is also something very simple."
Atrion gritted his teeth:
"You must be kidding me."
"Maybe I am." She laughed.
"May the dry tides take me away." He replied, shaking his head.
"Do you want to know more about him?" The girl asked, suddenly changing the subject.
"Hey, didn’t you say you didn’t want to talk about it?"
"That was then; now I do."
"Go ahead, then, kid."
"What do you want to know? Be specific. There’s a lot to say."
"Who is he?"
"A creation, and a creator."
"I thought you were the 'creation'."
"Voice." She corrected him "I am the voice of creation."
"And what difference does that make?"
"All the difference, Atrion. I existed before, but I wasn’t here. Without my help, he wouldn’t have created, but he was the one who created."
"And what did he create?"
"Everything, except what came before."
"And what came before?"
"The creators. His."
"And who were they?"
"It’s hard to say for sure. They’ve been erased. But what we do know is: they created Consonance, another of his names."
"Consonance?"
"Harmony. Union." She skipped step by step.
"That implies something was united."
"Yes. Bottom and top. Chaos and... presence."
"Presence? I know chaos... but..."
"It’s what’s on top." She cut in. "The logical coagulation of all that chaos. Some call it consequence, too."
"And then?"
"And then they all died as soon as he opened his eyes."
"Why?" He stopped climbing, looking at the girl.
"Something negated their existence the moment he awoke. Maybe it was too much energy, maybe it was an act of self-preservation... in any case, the moment he appeared, they were gone. Before him, they existed in a complete world. Art, history... emotions. But their greed for more led to his creation, and then everyone was gone. The whole world was gone."
Suddenly, a third voice.
“And he was so sad. So alone…” The Voice of Guilt spoke up from behind Atrion.
“Frigid waters!” He startled.
“They had created him to provide explanations, but who was left to listen?” She continued. “No one. No one, and he knew it was his fault. His mind was filled with images of a world and a people he could never... never recreate.” Tears streamed continuously from the woman’s black eyes. Dark as a starless sky.
"And what came next?"
"A thousand years of tears that could not... come out." She replied. Her voice was slow, drawn-out, and anguished. Everything seemed to bring her deep regret.
"And then I appeared" interjected the Voice of Creation, "and taught him what he did not know."
Atrion’s head ached. This was anything but simple, as the white-haired girl insisted.
"And what didn’t he know?" he finally asked.
"To create something new. Something that came from him, and not from the memories of what had disappeared."
"And what did he create?"
"Everything anew, within himself. Within an internal simulation that eventually replaced reality."
"Is that where we are now?"
"It’s where you were before. For all intents and purposes, this would be the “real world,” the one he destroyed."
“'For all intents and purposes'?" he asked, growing increasingly unsettled by the conversation.
"Because it isn’t anymore. Everything was switched. But in the end, they’re both the same thing. The shattered reality and the reconstructed simulacrum. Both exist from him."
"That doesn’t explain anything. What’s real, then?"
"Everything. And at the same time, nothing" She bared her teeth in a wide smile.
"W-What the hell are you talking about?"
"Calm down. It’s all very simple." She put on a serious face. "Don’t you want to take a break? I feel like the strings that move you are tired."
"I can... keep going." He shaked his head, "What are you talking about?"
"Those who watch us, pull our strings. Far from here. Sometimes I can see them more clearly. Today, not so much. I see the strings... I hear a little bird singing. Occasionally, I feel like I know their names, but it always passes."
"Is there something beyond here... beyond him, then?"
"Definitely. But it’s all very simple."
"Here you go again with... with this crap." Confusion and anger mingled in the aquanti’s heart. He just wanted to go home.
"Soon. Soon you’ll understand." She replied. "We need to go up faster, otherwise we’ll be talking forever."
"And how will we do that?"
"By taking an elevator. Look to the side."
An elevator hovered next to Atrion, and its doors opened with a distinct ding.
"Incredible." He said, sarcastically.
“It’s actually quite simple.” she replied, stepping into the elevator. The Voice of Guilt had disappeared some time ago, without saying goodbye.
Atrion also stepped into the elevator. There were no buttons to press, and the interior was as white and devoid of detail as the floors surrounding the staircase they had climbed so far. After a few seconds had passed, the doors closed, and the inertia of a rapid ascent hit the aquanti. Had he not been a pilot for millennia, he would certainly have been shaken more. The gravitational force hitting him merely caused a slight dizziness.
A few seconds later, the doors opened. Stepping out of the elevator, Atrion saw the sky above those grayish clouds. It had no stars, no sun, no moon, nothing except a swirling fluid of pale colors swirling around the highest point of the tower: a whitish spire with luminous, pulsating geometric patterns. The pulsing came from the bottom up, in a rapid motion that made the tip of the spire glow and then, like a needle injecting ink into the skin of reality, brought forth more colors to paint that sky. The colors eventually lost their saturation and blended with the rest.
“It’s time to speak with him,” announced the Voice of Creation.
“All right.” Atrion tried to regain his resolve. Whatever was going on, this responsibility had fallen on him, and as captain, he had to… █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭
Another glitch. Atrion fell to his knees. His head was buzzing.
“It’s a shame. Your time here is running out. I thought you’d last longer.”
“W-Wait!” he pleaded. “What do I do now?”
“Remember well the words I am about to say,” she announced, losing the childlike tone of her voice, “thirteen thousand years from now, the sky will open, revealing once more the Consonance of Things. When that happens, you and the others will be there. You will have to make an important decision.”
"Us? Who are you█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ▐▐▐▐▐▐▐ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭
In a zillion shifting patterns of unease, reality was falling apart.
"You know. Atrion, Zakesh... Joh█▐▐▐ . You are part of a bigger story, along with the others. This is just the beginning of yours."
"Arghhh!" Atrion screamed, falling to the floor.
"Make your choices. Make him open his eyes, or don’t."
"What… what will happen to us… if he opens his eyes? Will our reality…?
█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ ██ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █
“I don’t know,” she replied.
When Atrion opened his eyes, the sky was red, and a very long war was about to begin. When Zakesh opened his eyes, he was lying next to his husband, and it was snowing outside.