Hell's Heroes

START ME UP

We pick a black square at random and set about putting together the building blocks of life. The three of us work as one, without having to discuss what we’re doing. Bec provides the memories, and thus the blueprints of what we need to start life again. Kernel manipulates the hidden strings of the universe to bring into being anything Bec desires. And I supply the power, channeling the energy of the Kah-Gash through them.

It’s a long, complicated process, yet at the same time swift and simple. This is what the Kah-Gash does. It’s like a person breathing, walking, talking, snapping his or her fingers. As humans we performed countless natural functions every second of the day. This is the same, only on a cosmic level.

The Old Creatures are aware of what we’re up to, and we can sense their seal of approval, even though we never communicate. They’re happy to drift along in their own zones. All they ever wanted was to be left alone, safe from the threat of the Demonata, to roam as they pleased. We can guarantee that now, so they have no further interest in us.

I wish we had it so easy. There are hard times ahead. Having to focus for billions of years… put worlds, ecosystems, and civilizations back the way they were… ensure every seed finds the egg it was meant to… guide every animal from a single-celled organism upwards, on every planet, in every galaxy… determine the deaths of all creatures, down to the fraction of a second of the date when they were meant to die…

It’s no walk in the park!

One problem we don’t have to worry about is the harvesting of souls. As strong as we are, there’s a higher force than the Kah-Gash. We can sense it, but we can’t define it, something greater than power, knowledge, life, or death. We could give it a name, but that’s not our job or our right. Let the beings of the universe name and worship the force in whatever ways they wish. We’re not here to provide answers, just to give others the opportunity to marvel at the secrets of the heavens and perhaps one day unravel the mysteries for themselves.

I’m not looking forward to letting bad things happen. I’m sure I’ll be tempted to intervene a million times a day, spare innocents, undermine tyrants, build a better, safer, cleaner universe. But it’s a temptation I must ignore. If we start to interfere, we’ll rob individuals of the right of self-determination. Nothing good can come of celestial dominance, no matter how noble our intentions. We’re architects of this universe, nothing more, and we must never let ourselves forget that.

Having said that, we’ll have to direct traffic up to a certain point, to the moment when we tore the universes asunder. We could start fresh if we wanted and let things develop randomly, but there’s no telling what would happen then. Life might never evolve at all. We think it’s better to start the ball rolling, guide the creatures of this universe along the path they followed the first time around, then withdraw and leave them to themselves.

Well… maybe we’ll stop a bit earlier. We don’t have to let time stretch to the very last second. There’s no harm tying up some loose ends a day or two before the universe ended. We have to implement change at that stage anyway, fiddle with the order of events to ensure this new universe isn’t annihilated. It wouldn’t make any real difference if we rounded things off a week or two earlier… maybe even a few months or years…

“That’s dangerous thinking,” Bec notes, her voice coming from every part of the universe and yet from nowhere in particular. “We agreed we wouldn’t interfere.”

“But we have to at the end,” I argue. “If we let events play out as before, the re-creations of ourselves will tear the universe to shreds. We have to make changes. There can be no wandering pieces of the Kah-Gash. Death must remain a force and never be unleashed as the Shadow. No war between the demons and humanity. We have to juggle events, remove a few individuals from the mix, strip some of power, give others more to do. It’ll be like a game of chess. We can let the game unfold as it did before, but if we want to avoid checkmate, we’ll have to readjust the pieces a few moves shy of the finish.”

“That makes sense,” Kernel agrees.

“So where do we draw the line?” Bec asks. “Grubbs was the last to be born. Do we set the universe free just before that? Or do we go back to before I entered the world and release our grip then?”

“That would be the simplest thing,” Kernel says, but there’s an uncertain edge to his voice.

“The trouble with stopping there,” I mutter, “is that the people we knew might never be born. My parents, Gret, Dervish…”

“Shark and Sharmila,” Kernel says.

“Bill-E and Kirilli,” Bec sighs.

“We could keep them all,” I croak. “Even save them. My parents don’t have to be slaughtered. We can give Dervish a stronger heart. Bill-E and Loch needn’t die in the cave in Carcery Vale.”

“Shark could live to fight another day,” Kernel murmurs. “We could let Nadia lead a normal life and spare her the indignity of becoming Juni Swan.”

“Bran could enjoy a dignified retirement,” Bec muses aloud. “Meera could be spared. Maybe Dervish would finally see sense and fall in love with her.”

“We have the power,” I whisper. “We need to tinker with things, no matter what. Why not make a few beneficial, personal changes while we’re at it?”

“Do we have the right to alter the universe to suit our own desires?” Bec asks.

“Let’s call it a perk of the job,” I chuckle.

“We should discuss this further,” Kernel says.

“A lot further,” Bec adds.

“Fine,” I shrug. “We’ve got plenty of time. I’m sure we’ll sort something out over the next billion years or so.” I create a giant pair of knuckles and crack them loudly. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Who wants to set the Big Bang in motion?”

“That’s your privilege,” Bec says. “Everything’s in place. Kernel and I can’t do any more until you generate the explosion.”

“We can control it, can’t we?” I ask. “The Big Bang, I mean. It won’t affect any of the other zones?”

“Not this time,” Bec says.

“It will all run smoothly,” Kernel assures me.

I’m nervous now that the moment has arrived. It’s no small thing, creating life, the universe, and everything. I’m probably not the best man—hell, best boy for the job. But then it’s not a perfect universe. You can’t hang around waiting for somebody else to pull your strings. Destiny’s what you make of it. You have to face whatever life throws at you. And if it throws more than you’d like, more than you think you can handle?

Well, then you have to find heroism within yourself and play out the hand you’ve been dealt. The universe never sets a challenge that can’t be met. You just need to believe in yourself in order to find the strength to face it.

Where to start? I feel like I should say a few words to mark the occasion, but I’m not good at speeches. Perhaps I could borrow from one of the many creation myths that have been—will be—written by others more adept at capturing the spirit of momentous events like this.

I start to ask Bec if she can recommend an appropriate extract. But then I recall something Mum used to read to me when I was young. Mum wasn’t especially religious, but she read to Gret and me from a variety of holy books. I don’t recall the exact way it went, and I guess my choice won’t suit everyone, but what the hell, this is my show, so I’ll run it the way I please.

Clearing my throat, to a chorus of good-natured groans from Kernel and Bec, I chant solemnly. “In the beginning Grubbs created the heavens and the earth, and everything was dark. Then Grubbs said, ‘Let there be light!’”

And there was light.

Coolio!

THE END

THE DEMONATA

FEBRUARY 6, 2001–JUNE 5, 2009