Full Vessels (16 page)

“We left the party to have what remains one
of the most energizing conversations of my long life at a nearby
beer garden. From then on, we met up once a week. Neither of us
could have been more pleased to have company. Yezzen was her name.
Dear Yezzen. My best friend throughout my entire existence. And
lest one of you savages feel the need to put your crude curiosity
into words, we were never physically intimate. Our mutual
attraction was unadulterated by lust.

“A few years later, Damien stopped by to
introduce himself. He was a true gentleman and explained that he
had knowledge of our identities and the ability to open the sky at
a time he felt appropriate. So naturally, the twelve of us
eventually met up for a week of stimulating conversation and mutual
encouragement.

“Ours was a good group. We lasted seventeen
Experiments. Then Damien got us all together, as he was wont to do.
But this time, he conducted a vote. One by one my friends elected
to cease their existence. I . . . I remained silent until Damien
begged me for a response. To them, I said that I did not wish my
life to be over, but that I would cast my vote in solidarity with
them.”

Natalia's lips compressed to a line. “I was
saved from my bitterness by Koji. Always the most distant of my
friends, Koji took me in his arms and told me that I would live to
see another Experiment. As many as I wanted. He told me that there
are two Observers in every batch who serve a special function. One
opens the sky and serves as a check on the others. The second
carries the memory of every Observer who ever existed and even the
thoughts of the Creator who ceases to be at the genesis of every
universe.

“For the First Experiment had
not
been
the first. There was a Cycle before my series of Experiments, which
Koji had survived. He surrendered his special position to me so
that I could live on while he became no more than a series of
memories.

“And so one Cycle ended and another began.
All my friends died and were replaced by brutal creatures forged in
a primitive dystopia. You each bear the indelible stamp of your
origin. To be blunt, your feral natures disgust me. You may make
fascinating studies, but none of you meet my minimum criteria for
friendship. I avoided you and did my best to make certain none of
you had reason to seek me out in turn.”

Natalia sighed. “Truthfully, I have done very
little observing this Cycle. You see, I carry all of these memories
in me. If my entire life experience could be represented as a
single drop of water, then there is an entire ocean available for
me to relive. It is impossible to navigate. I can live an entire
day of another Observer's life, then never manage to find a single
bit of that individual again. It is a jumble, an ocean frenzied by
a hurricane.

“For as long as any of you have been alive, I
have been sipping from eternity. I have tried with limited success
to seek out particular types of memories. Never have I found any of
Yezzen, but I have some success picking out happy ones, or exciting
ones, or any type of mood I prefer in the moment. And there are
other memories I can identify. Memories too incomprehensibly vast
for a mere Observer to ever have had.

“Within me lives the memories of the Creator,
a fact which segues right into my magic trick. As you could
imagine, the Creator remembers the details of creating. And some
portion of those details can be understood by the likes of us.” She
sat up straight. “Now give me your full attention. I likely will
not be able to repeat this trick in the limited time available to
us.”

A smug smile on her face, Natalia's frail
old-woman form flickered into that of a chubby middle-aged man with
a patchy beard. She, now a he, pointed a finger at Griff. “For the
record, not a single syllable was false, you uncivilized
cretin.”

Erik jumped to his feet and leaned forward,
resting his knuckles on the table. “Excellent trick. Now, let's
talk about you giving me your job.”

Natalia studied his new body. “I never know
what I'm going to become when I do that. This ability does not come
with a preview option.”

“I want,” Erik said, “to live next Iteration,
next Cycle, next Experiment, whatever the fuck you want to call
it.”

“Slight problem with your request.” Natalia
scratched at his semi-bearded face. “I nominated Jerome
already.”

Erik decked the table hard, a thud wrapped
around a brittle snap. His face contorted as he turned his
attention to Jerome. “
Twelve.
I will . . . fuck! Fuck, fuck,
fuck!” Face red, eyes bulging, spittle flying, Erik brandished his
shattered hand.

“Of course,” Natalia said in a contemplative
tone, as if speaking to himself, “that was a deal struck in a
different universe. Given our extenuating circumstances, I am
willing to reconsider my choice.”

Erik's insane eyes fixed on Natalia. “That's
right, tubby.”

“None of that,” Natalia snapped. “You have no
power over me, Erik. If you engage in your trademark shenanigans,
Jerome opens the sky and you lose. I make the rules, Erik, and you
follow them with unfailing obedience if you have any hope
whatsoever of continuing your twisted existence. I am in charge.
You understand?”

“...yes.”

“Fantastic. Hess, are you also interested in
the opportunity to become my successor?”

Hess shot a glance to Elza, who stared at her
lap impassively. “I am.”

“Very well,” Natalia said. “After the
meeting, I will journey with Jerome, Erik, and Hess to discuss who
gets to see the next Cycle. For the moment, however, we are
participating in an unprecedented conference. I took this
opportunity for my grand reveal, but I would be remiss if I didn't
present my findings for the group's contemplation.”

Natalia scratched at his protruding abdomen.
“By virtue of the memories I carry within me, I can tell you that
there has been a remarkable diversity among our kind. Sinners,
saints, and everything in between. As near as I can tell, the early
Experiments of every Cycle tend toward mono-cultural. I imagine
that phenomena to function as a mold for each generation of
Observers. We are cast in specific circumstances, then exposed to a
variety of worlds.

“Based on these insights, I long ago
concluded that the ultimate goal of our inscrutable employer must
be to manufacture every consistent world from the infinite sea of
possibility. Before we travel too far down the path presented by my
data, I want to elucidate what I am not saying. Under no
circumstances do I believe the Creator is bored. Nor would I claim
that diversity per se is the goal.

“What I believe is that the entity we serve
creates with a passion beyond mere obsession. With the utmost
sincerity, I confess my suspicion that the Creator does not conform
to our concept of sanity. While a post-vote conference is something
I never encountered in my other memories, I
have
witnessed
many erratic worlds like the previous Experiment. On occasion, the
Creator . . . malfunctions. As if two potential worlds were merged
into an inconsistent jumble.”

Natalia smiled. “Having unveiled my great
secret and spoken blasphemy, you might expect my contributions to
be complete. However, I have yet to pass judgment on existence
itself, so bear with me a moment or two longer.

“I am, to put it mildly, an unabashed fan of
creation. My esteem for particular worlds varies to a great extent,
but I find the overall experience to be downright amazing. If the
twelve of us spent a thousand years at this table, we would get no
closer to the truth than we are at this moment. Words are utterly
inadequate to express the richness of reality. Our minds are
insufficient to grasp the vastness of existence. We have each
strained to the utmost to grasp even a single drop of water and the
vastness of the ocean is forever beyond us.”

Natalia looked around the room, meeting eyes.
“To be blunt, I'm not interested in a passive-aggressive Q and A. I
move to adjourn our conference. Anyone who feels a pressing need to
discuss my revelations can do so without me. Hess and Erik, please
be sure to include myself and Jerome in your plans to escape the
island.” He leaned forward. “Would someone like to second my
motion?”

Greg cleared his throat. “Seconded.”

“Thank you, Greg. All in favor?”

A scattering of hands rose.

“All opposed?”

Silence.

“Then the motion is carried. Conference
adjourned. Everyone try to enjoy the rest of your lives.”

Observers no more, their final duty to the
Creator discharged, they dispersed in a hush of chair scrapes,
footfalls, and door clicks. Hess avoided eye contact with all of
them. The profound purpose that bound them had vanished, taking
with it whatever comradery existed in their sad group.

Jerome hooked his arm around that of Hess the
way he had done a hundred times the last Iteration when he was a
woman. “It doesn't seem right, everyone going their own way without
parting words.”

Hess shrugged. “It's always been that way
with us.”

“Sorry I didn't tell you about the deal
Natalia made with me.”

“I would have kept it from you if our
situations were reversed.” He pulled his arm free.

Jerome stepped in front of him. “So I'm not
even allowed to touch you now that I'm a man? Nothing has changed
about me. I didn't try to seduce you last world, so why distrust me
this one?”

“Don't take it personal, Jerome. He's never
been affectionate with men.”

Jerome startled at Elza's words, then stepped
back. “I'll go on ahead of you.”

The two of them spent a few moments not
looking at each other. Elza broke the silence first. “I wanted to
wish you luck. I hope Natalia picks you and that you have a
fulfilling life in the next Cycle. You deserve it, Hess.”

He studied the floor between them. “I
appreciate that. I'm glad you're getting what you want. Well, no,
not glad. Horrible word choice. Let's just say I will be comforted
knowing that you are no longer unhappy.”

She spoke again, her voice soft. “Then
goodbye.”

He took a breath. “I really wish you were
saying the other thing.”

“Then one last time, for the sake of
tradition.” Her voice was thick almost to the point of incoherence.
“Find me fast, Hess.” And she left.

He collected the stolen items from his room
and carried them in a sling made from linens. In the stables, he
encountered the corpse of the stable boy when he attempted to hire
a horse. He saddled an animal himself and trotted it through town,
one hand on the reigns and the other cradling the glassware hanging
from his neck.

The few townies he saw were more interested
in staring at the smoking mountain than a man on a horse. He kept
to a walk for fear of shattering his homemade still. When he
arrived at the harbor, the others were waiting for him in an
overloaded freight wagon. Hess handed up his cargo and took the
buggy whip from Jerome's hand.

He locked eyes with Erik. “Be ready with your
saber. I'll take out one of the guards.”

“With a whip?”

“I've never seen someone keep fighting after
losing an eye.”

Erik giggled. “Give me ten minutes to get in
place.” He jogged away with one hand steadying his scabbard.

Natalia frowned at him. “Do you do this type
of thing often?”

“That depends on your definition of often.”
Hess uncoiled the whip and snapped it a couple of times to get a
feel for it.

“Interesting. I look forward to the
show.”

Ten minutes later he drew reign before two
guards standing at the pier's entrance, one of whom held a rifle at
the front chest carry position. The senior guard twirled his finger
in the air. “Get your ass out of here.”

Hess pointed back towards the town.
“Someone's been hurt. Real bad. They told me to let the guard on
duty at the pier know so he can pay his last respects.” He slapped
his forehead. “I can't remember the name of the man I'm supposed to
find.”

The senior guard hesitated, then his gaze
hardened. “This is private property. Ernie, put a hole in him if he
ain't gone in sixty seconds.”

As Ernie snapped his weapon into position,
Hess threw his whip hand into the air and snapped his wrist. The
musket's sights aligned, creating a direct path from the guard's
eye to the rear sight post to the front sight post to Hess's chest.
The tip of the whip intersected that direct path at its far end,
connecting with the squinting eye.

The guard screamed, jerked, and discharged
his weapon into the air. The senior guard ran to the guard shack.
As he yanked open the door, light glinted off a slashing saber. The
man tumbled back, hands hugging his chest even as he hit the
ground. Erik emerged from behind the guard shack and drove his
blade absentmindedly into the throat of the man.

“Nice whip work, Hessie.” Erik drove his
blade down into Ernie's chest. “Reminds me of that time I sliced
your eyes out two Iterations ago. Good times.”

Hess waved both hands over his head to summon
Jerome and Natalia, then inspected the pier. It was possibly wide
enough for the freight wagon, but they would never be able to get
it turned around. “I don't suppose you brought the travois with
you,” he said.

“Of course, ya horse. I'm a fucking pro at
this shit.”

Jerome and Hess rapidly unloaded the wagon.
Rocket fuel came off first, then sacks of maize kernels, then wood.
Meanwhile, Erik attached travois and horses. When they moved the
first load from the base of the pier to the steamship, Hess pointed
to the wagon. “Someone needs to get another load. I'll warm up the
firebox and pump water into the boiler. Whoever is left can haul
fuel up the pier. Make sure none of the locals gets too curious
about our activities.”