Before the gate: The Failure

1. The very first
2. Moribund
3. Asymmetric
4. Grandchild

Trigger warning: murder, birth, death, loneliness

Synopsis: Orikka craves meaning, but the meaning they create is a complicated one

Chapter 1: The very first

Orikka’s earliest memories were of heat. Intense, blistering heat that went on and on and on, hotter and hotter. It wasn’t painful, exactly, they were just exactingly aware of it. Observing it with acute and hyperfixating detail, as there was nothing else to fixate on, the heat was all that was. Heat and intense pressure. Their awareness slowly came into focus the more their environment cooled, like a gauge carefully tuning them into cognition. Time’s passage was unclear, the cooling could have been a fraction of a second, it could have been a billion years. Time meant very little when there was no consciousness to measure it, and at that point, Orikka was hardly conscious. That would come later. 

Rather than just being the first god, something they would much later come to define themselves as, Orikka was the very first being. Ever. The very first thing to pop into existence, the first of firsts of firsts. The first self-aware existence in the infinite void, and for a long time, the only self-aware being in the entirety of existence. The very idea of a god was a long way from being formed, but they eventually had to call themselves something, some name to separate themselves from the rest of the existence around them. They were something different, something alien from the matter surrounding them, something other. The breadth of their experience was simultaneously as wide as the cosmos, but also incredibly lacking. Something important was missing, they could feel it in some deep indiscernible way, from their very core they could tell that something was just a little off. Would they have been happy if they were not aware of being separate, they wondered, would it have been better if they were less conscious of their separation, their self-reflexive nature? It was a lonely thing, to be so singular, so special. Striving to find that intangible thing that would complete them, without any knowledge of what it might be. 

Their first foray into being a god in the conventional sense of the word came when they first encountered a planet with living beings. A beautiful double ringed world just beginning to team with small, microscopic creatures. Their vitality, the rapid ebb and flow of their being was fascinating to an eternal one. They live such short but intense lives, filled with meaning that they had to make for themselves. Eager to live life fully before their quick and inevitable death. It was as if a switch went off in Orikka’s mind. Meaning. They could have meaning too, they didn’t have to exist in perpetual emptiness, perpetual loneliness. With some sort of driving direction they could find fulfillment, something to give value and direction to their life. They just had to find something that mattered enough to them. 

Being creative seemed so second nature to the living, their lives were full of novelty, but an ancient one like Orikka was much slower, new things didn’t come as naturally. But they could mimic, to a degree. What was it that drove each living being? Staying alive was a significant motivator, but that wouldn’t suit Orikka, a being with eternal life. Scaling out to something a little more grand had some possibility, though. More than staying alive, propagating its species was another task an existence partook in, sometimes even to the detriment of the individuals’ self. Propagation. Perhaps then, Orikka’s meaning could come from family. Each living derived from a previous living, and the link traversing the lineage was often meaningful to both the child and the parent. Could Orikka have something like that too? And then they would not be as alone either. Their heart twisted at the prospect, a painful type of hope. Another being with their same experience, with their same unique properties. Someone to share their life with. The idea of attempting and failing, the terror of this fantasy being an impossibility hurt, but they wouldn’t know unless they tried. So, they did. 

Nevah’s birth was not an easy one, birthing a god was not an intuitive process. But as those organisms on the planet did, Orikka dutifully separated out some matter from themselves. They had made themselves an astral body, a whirling gaseous form that flexibly took up whichever shape they requested of it, full of many universes-worth of astronomical bodies moving subtly within the bounds of their frame. It was from within their own anatomy that they carefully selected a small galaxy. Something delicate and lovely, irregularly dispersed with stars in a glittering spread of solar systems and cosmic gasses, separated by many distances over from that of the ringed planet where they had first found life, and seeded it with their innermost essence. A fragment of godhood, a godseed. Their very first child to be, they thought dotingly, cradling this beautiful new being. 

What did the living do to coax their progeny into existence, they pondered as they watched Nevah continuing on as if nothing had changed for them, gestating, hopefully. When Nevah hadn’t made any attempt at awakening for an entire galactic year they became concerned.

Looking at life on the ringed planet it seemed that some of the living seemed attentive to their children, others simply gave life and left the resulting beings to fend for themselves. Orikka saw themselves falling more into the former category, this entire endeavor was intended to give purpose to their life and alleviate their loneliness, both of those goals were better fulfilled by welcoming the new being into the world with open arms, rather than abandoning them. 

As they watched, they wondered. Perhaps they were projecting too much on this child, trying to fulfill the things they felt were lacking in their own life, rather than anticipating the different needs this child might have. They did feel rather abandoned, they realized, though by what Orikka was unsure, and they most certainly didn’t wish for a child to suffer the same sense of inexplicable loss. But that didn’t mean that Nevah would feel that way, even if they were introduced to the world under similar conditions to Orikka’s own birth. They would be their entirely own being, and may have a very different view on the world. There was simply no way to tell. That was good, Orikka decided, it was a good thing they would be an entirely different being, they had no desire to simply clone themselves, and if that meant they wouldn’t entirely understand their child, that was alright too. They were suddenly much more excited to meet this new being.

When they looked closely they could see that something was different in its composition, something arcane had taken root, but still Nevah didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge their transformation in any way. Were they displeased with being brought into consciousness? Had Orikka made a mistake in calling them into existence? Their view on existence could be even more despairing than Orikka’s, had they caused harm to another being by giving it life? Insecurities churned within Orikka, should they perhaps just give up? There was no way to ask a being if they wanted to be born before the fact, perhaps this was as good as an answer and the lack of response on Nevah’s part was indicating that they were never intended to have children, Orikka spiraled. 

Nevah fluttered, a rapid fire flickering of stars within their form, the first murmuring of life. ‘What, what is this?’ they roused themselves, groggy from their pre-birth slumber. ‘Child!’ Orikka joyously greeted, ‘my perfect child you have awakened!’ Nevah looked at them, their starlight form blinking confusedly. ‘I am, your child?’ they asked, orienting themselves to the newfound knowledge that Orikka’s godseed consciousness had gifted them. ‘Then you are my parent? We are family?’ Orikka couldn’t have been more pleased, only a few moments into parenthood and it was already more than they could have hoped for.

Nevah was a strange, beguiling being. After their first acknowledgement of Orikka as their parent they no longer referred to the relationship, referring to Orikka by their name and refusing to speak about their origins as Orikka’s descendent. Such a proud child, Orikka thought fondly. The information they had inherited from Orikka was an interesting blend of knowledge of the material world, and Orikka’s miscellaneous thoughts and emotion, a hodgepodge that Orikka had no control over when bequeathing in the godseed. They frequently found themselves in disagreement, ‘I suppose it’s impressive, but their evolution is hardly something to celebrate, they’re just peons laboring in the dirt and we are of the cosmos far above, what do we really have to do with them? Is there anything of theirs worth knowing?’ Was that something that Nevah had inherited, Orikka wondered, or had they somehow come up with a new idea. If it was their own opinion, they thought dubiously, they had come up with it rather quickly, Orikka didn’t recall having any strong opinions of their own for a very long time. 

Perhaps there was something about coming into life that prompted strong opinions. Life for those beings on the ringed planet had a strange property of evoking emotions, both good and bad, as they struggled to survive, to either be eradicated or to flourish. Life had inspired Nevah’s birth, after all, and perhaps that was the source of Nevah’s derision, their dislike of being inspired by the earth that they perceived as beneath themselves. Orikka suspected that Nevah didn’t care for the power imbalance in their relationship, after all, Nevah was a demi-god child, and Orikka was mighty beyond comprehension. 

Chapter 2: Moribund 

Orikka had been experimenting with their abilities, something they had neglected with Nevah’s birth. They had originally found themselves able to interact with the fabric of the universe in a very intimate way, slipping between dimensions into a higher level one, time, it seemed, when Nevah interrupted. ‘What are you doing?’ they asked, curious. ‘Can you see me when I do this?’ Orikka asked, pleased that they could share this too, with their beloved child. ‘Yes, but you look strange, faint, as if you are not quite there. And I can only see you if I look beyond time. How strange,’ Nevah replied, watching their parent carefully. Orikka often took this form when they visited the ringed planet, not willing to disturb the inhabitants. Observe but not interact. 

They had discovered this ability by accident a long time ago, when the universe was much younger and time moved much slower. They had been accelerating and punched right through spacetime. The action had startled them, revealing a slew of new properties about the world around them. They could actually see time, see events looping, moments of high importance cycling with more intensity, the gravity of them somehow more pronounced. 

‘Would you like to try?’ Orikka offered, reaching out to offer assistance to the younger being. Nevah hesitated before accepting, stepping into the dimension carefully, as if they were sure they would be successful. ‘Oh, oh wow,’ Nevah whispered, wonderingly as they observed the flow of time around them, watching stars be born, die, and then do it all over again. ‘They seem to be coming into focus when they die, on this side of time, how strange. Orikka watched on, as their child explored this new reality. ‘I wonder, what does your earth look like? Is it the same for the creatures there, those that have a different sort of life?’ Orikka was delighted with this newfound interest in their hobby, ‘come see!’ 

They circled the planet in the soul dimension, alighting invisibly to the beings there. ‘Hm,’ Nevah murmured, walking among the living. ‘I think I expected them to be different, somehow,’ Nevah said, observing the cycle of life through time, watching the flow and flux. ‘So much of life is simply creative reinterpretations of the same things, but it is still marvelous to see, perfect as it is.’ Nevah hummed, apparently less impressed. But then for Nevah to even visit the earth was an accomplishment. 

‘The sanctity of our home still astonishes more,’ they finally said, indicating their disinterest and signaling their desire to depart. Orikka sighed slightly, it had been nice to share this together, even if just for a short time. 

‘What do you think happens to the dissipated souls,’ Nevah asked later. Orikka paused, thinking, ‘perhaps they contribute to the energy-fluid or energy-field, a sort of quinessence? Or it persists in some sort of superstate, they must go somewhere, though, they can’t just disappear. Nevah’s stars flickered, affirming, ‘either way, their energy lingers, they seem to lose their physical anchor with their death, but what makes them, whatever intangible soul-energy they are at their core seems at some point to disperse. Perhaps it forms new beings? If it disperses it makes sense that it would recondense later, a sort of balancing equation.’ Orikka considered this hypothesis thoughtfully, it was certainly a beautiful type of symmetry, if it was true. 

Chapter 3: Asymmetric

‘What have you done!?’ Something had happened, something terrible, Orikka could feel it from within the depths of their being, a pulsing vibrating wrongness. An entire galaxy had been snuffed out, simply banished from existence, their souls not even dispersed, consumed in some way, and Nevah was the only other one with such ability. Nevah looked at them, their silence heavy, laden with the weight of their ruthless actions, until finally they responded, clear articulated words cutting their parent with each syllable. ‘I have made myself in your likeness,’ they responded slowly, their stars softly emitting, but increasing in intensity with each word. ‘I have ascended to godhood, killed my lesser kin and taken my place as a true galactic god. Isn’t that what you wanted?’ They seemed almost confused, almost beseeching.

Orikka drew back as if struck. What they had wanted? How could Nevah think that killing something so precious could be what they wanted? Had they not communicated that their creation of Nevah was in pursuit of companionship, or family? How could their pure wish be so easily perverted, misconstrued as approval for such large scale destruction? Where did such an idea even come from? Had Orikka inadvertently planted it with the godseed, had they been the source of it somehow? Their mind reeled, rapid fire questions and doubts seeping into their thoughts, plaguing them.

This being that had once been so familiar was now foreign, a disfiguration of the perfect, beautiful child Orikka had willed into consciousness. They felt sick. They had given birth to an abomination, a being of destruction. A being that had willingly corrupted themselves, violated the purity of their soul for greater power. Nevah was responsible for the death of an entire galaxy, a whole swath of stars had been executed simply because Nevah decided it should be so. 

Nevah continued, ‘we could never be companions without equality. To have true friendship, one must start with parity,’ sincerity in their voice, compelling, as if their decision was a reasonable, rational one to have made. As if they hadn’t just murdered a whole galaxy as if it was nothing to them. And it must have been. Had Orikka failed so spectacularly as a parent to not have emphasized the significance of life, of how truly precious it was. And now it was gone, absorbed by the being before them. Orikka could see it, see the pulsing energy of Nevah’s soul newly empowered by the consumption. ‘Can you even see what you have done? Their souls are gone! Simply not there any more, you’ve eaten it and it is trapped within you?!’ 

Nevah paused, this appeared to be new information to them. Were they no longer able to access the world of souls, were they locked out of passing through the moribund? But this revelation was not enough to change their opinion of their actions, ‘it is still energy, and it has a new purpose now, it is part of something greater,’ they insisted. Orikka couldn’t say anything in response, too shocked to refute. 

‘Did I make you feel unworthy,’ Orikka finally managed to say, ‘is this my fault?’ they whispered to themselves, horror at the new possibility roiling inside. Nevah started, ‘ha! You didn’t even know, did you? You selfish old thing. You always had to be right, to have everything just so. Everything polished perfectly. I’m not so perfect now, huh? But at least I’m me, I’m more myself than I’ve ever been before.’ Nevah’s voice was thick with suppressed rage, their galaxy pulsing with the intensity of their words. They deflated a little, ‘isn’t this better? I am like you, now.’ Orikka wordlessly shuddered, the vulnerability even more abhorrent, somehow, their need for affirmation of this horrible choice something Orikka was not able to give, no matter how much Nevah seemed to need it. ‘I, I’m sorry,’ they said, helplessly. 

Nevah left. It was the only choice. This was too much between them, too big a divide to have happened, an insurmountable schism that Orikka could never get past. Orikka was a failure. They had failed in every aspect of parenthood, there was no other interpretation for this catastrophe of a child. They were never meant to have children, they thought wildly, bitterly, better that this child had been a stillbirth and they had ended their efforts there. They were done. No more children, no more meaning, they would simply exist with this guilt, their penance for the disaster they had inevitably wrought in the world. Orikka was done. 

Instead, they watched the living. The life on the ringed planet had changed since they last looked, tiny microbes had evolved to live inside each other, stacking like dolls one inside the other, making them their home, the building blocks for more complex organisms. A cornucopia of body plans and morphologies, the entire planet spilling over with life and vitality. Watching the tiny intricacies of their lives, the triumphs and failures, was like a balm to them, soothing the hurt of Nevah’s betrayal, reminding them there was something more than just the pain. And that all was not lost. Here life perseveres, independent and self perpetuating, persistent above all else. So many different survival strategies, strange complex things with sophisticated interior workings that Orikka could never hoped to create. 

The ingenuity never failed to intrigue them. Some of them failed and passed out of existence entirely, some of them flourished, the sheer variety was captivating. They were so beautifully imperfect. The thought shocked them out of their revelry, painfully reminding them of Nevah’s departing words. Were they too preoccupied with perfection? Their creation of Nevah had been inspired by their need to complete themselves, perhaps achieve a form of perfection.

Or was that misconstruction something purely Nevah. They sighed. They hadn’t ever had to examine themselves with such scrutiny before their child’s birth, but Nevah was forcing them to confront so much about themselves that they had never considered. They wished they had been more thoughtful, before this, maybe if they had then they could have fixed whatever it was in themselves that had caused Nevah such grief. Perhaps they too, were a failure.

Chapter 4: Grandchild

‘Don’t you want to meet your first grandchild?’ Nevah had returned, bearing unexpected news of their own first child. ‘This is your family, more than those beings on earth could ever be, this is your kin, don’t you want to see them?’ Nevah’s words etched in their heart, the lingering need for meaning and family never really having left, insead a festering emptiness. They still desperately wanted companionship, to escape the terrible pain of loneliness, of being too special, too unique. But the idea of being there in person for the birth was too much. They had ruined their first child with their presence, better that Nevah had never met them, that they had left their child alone, without another being to compare themselves against, that they had never had to feel lacking. They would have settled for watching from afar, knowing that another of their kin existed. 

‘I will attend,’ they began, carefully. Nevah looked relieved, a sigh of happiness flickering across their stars. Orikka continued, ‘but I cannot be visible. I do not wish to hurt your child with my presence,’ they ended quietly. Nevah paused, a subtle starlight filtering from within them, something complicated about the action. ‘I understand, a bit better,’ they said finally. ‘I think I know your loneliness, and why you created me despite the inevitable disparity between us. It has been challenging being alone, without you. And now we won’t be, any more. We will have many many children, a whole host of those like us. Of those that will be mighty.’ They looked almost euphoric at the possibility, giddy and expectant.

‘Will you have them be like you?’ Orikka interjected, bitterly, ‘will you have them kill their kind in order to rise?’ Never paused, a clenching tightness in their voice, ‘I don’t need your forgiveness. I was right to do what I did. It was the only way for equality. I refuse to have our family be weak. We will be above those little toilers of the earth that you love so much. We will be strong, or we will not be at all.’ Orikka paused, gathering their thoughts, their frustration making it difficult. ‘I, I will love our kind, always, no matter how they happen. They will still be ours, I will not abandon them. But I cannot accept what you will for us. And killing those weaker does not make us strong.’ Nevah heaved, their entire being flashing and flushed with exacerbation, ‘why can’t you understand? The kin killing isn’t the point, it is simply the process, it is a natural step of an ascending god to take! Even the earthling species perform it,’ Orikka interjected, enraged that Nevah could warp the living’s actions so, ‘just because a select few are so cruel doesn’t make it right! This isn’t working,’ they said, tired suddenly, ‘we will never agree, and there is no possible compromise. It is a fundamental divide.’ Nevah’s starlight went silent. ‘But I will still be there, when my grandchild is born,’ Orikka said, resigned to the life Nevah would give to their young. 

The child Nevah formed was so different from either of them, beautiful and unique, once more. A lightspeed god, quick as silver, as starlight, a beam of life giving light. ‘See,’ Nevah whispered, watching their child rise into being, speaking to the empty space where Orikka had slipped, just out of their sight in the dimension no longer accessible to Nevah, the kin-killer. ‘I have made them for you, this child will walk upon your earth, will travel among the beings you watch. This is my gift to you. Don’t forget our kind, and we will not forget you.’ Orikka watched the child sadly, observing invisibly as they slew the sun from which they emerged. Another god, continuing the cycle of violence. Another life lost forever and another soul corrupted, tainted with Nevah’s deeds. They could see when the damage took place in the other gods’ souls. At the moment of the murdered’s moribund they could see a festering wound open up in the newly formed god, but instead of leaking infection like a wound would, this injury consumed, pulled at the fabric of spacetime in like a suction, the gravity of its action causing a gaping gluttonous mouth. It was an abomination. The godchild had slew its kin and ascended to become a full god, powerful and mighty, leaving the husk of the murdered behind. 

Or perhaps they were not dead, at least, not all the way. The sun whispered out of life, but not out of existence. From Orikka’s place in the in-between space, they could see its birth into a new being, an afterlife being. Orikka reached out, gently touching the ghost of the sun, watching as it struggled to break free from the pull of the new god. ‘You, are not gone?’ The being dispersed under their touch, their soul gently wafted away, mixing with the plasma of other souls, having successfully escaped the zero point energy of the god’s corrupted soul, ‘you will form something new?’ Orikka wondered. They still disapproved of the practice of kin killing, but it was a small comfort that all was not lost. Life persisted, as always, just in a new re-birthed form. Reincarnate. 

End