“Solution to what?”
“When a human dies, a certain amount of energy is released. A miniscule one per human, but when seven billion die at the same time, the energy burst is substantial enough to harvest. We’ve been doing just that over the last few hundred thousand earth years. Breed a species, start a civilization, then, when the time comes, let it develop to extinction, making sure the species do not have the chance to ‘overdevelop,’ replenish the tanks and start over.”
“You’re collecting souls,” said Iris.
“No, we can’t do that. The energy released is related to what you call ‘soul,’ but capturing souls themselves is beyond our technology.”
“But why do it at all? Why capture souls, energy, whatever? You’d think with all your gadgetry you’d be able to use solar batteries or something to power you flying saucers.”
“Our flying saucers are doing just fine, Luke. The energy we harvest this way is used to ‘power’ us. It’s the only known way to replenish our life-force.”
“So without it you…”
“Would die. Yes. The gods are mortal. We live a very long time by your standards, but eventually we would die, and we cannot reproduce any longer. And as for why we don’t do it ourselves, well — and be discreet about this, please — there’re only twenty-three of us left, not counting the Seekers. We are strong, but at this stage if all humans work together against us, there may be losses we cannot afford.”
“This is lunacy,” I said some time later, finding myself on my feet in the middle of the room.
“I understand that it’s difficult to digest it all coming at you at once—”
“Explain to me how did this beekeeping operation of yours begin? You just sail randomly around the universe, find this tiny blue planet in the middle of nowhere, find primates among a trillion animals populating it, and say to yourselves, ‘Hmm, maybe these monkeys have souls, maybe there’s energy released when they die, maybe we should see if we can eat it?’ Talk about anticipation. I don’t care how advanced you are. It makes no sense.”
He smiled. “Oh, I see what’s troubling you. Well, it makes sense. Because we originated from you.”
I stared at him, at Iris, at the desk, at the million questions on the monitor with an open mouth. My eyes found the painting on the wall, but even that did not help. There was no longer anything dreamlike about the room. It, they, everything around me was solid, stationery, three-dimensional, reasonable, provable and proven empirically, simple.
“Jesus Christ!” I said in exasperation. Satan shot me an amused glance, but continued.
“Our ancestors moved from this planet a long time ago, and when the immortality and the reproductive ability were lost we knew exactly where to return. The source.”
“You lost immortality?” Iris asked. “So you’re saying…”
“Yes! Ironically, unlike us, humans are truly immortal. As far as we can tell, anyway. So you see, it’s easy to defend what they’re doing. Death is painful, but humans don’t really die, and human death is essential for our survival.”
“But you broke away, leaving yourself without the possibility to replenish,” she said.
He smiled at her, then at me. “Why take such a risk? Well, you know what they say about Satan. I want your soul.” Seeing the look on my face he hastened to add, “ But of course that’s only partially true. I don’t want your soul in particular — even if I did, there’s no way to get it — but rather a soul. Like we used to have. I believe the current method of sustaining our population is bound to fail sooner or later. I believe we can be healed. I believe we can truly return.”
“So that’s your plan for me?”
“That’s my hope for you. And who knows, perhaps you could also save the world while you’re at it. Good night.”
Then he was no longer there.
I guessed the conversation was over. Wasn’t really mad about it either, to tell you the truth. I went to his desk and sat down, the monitor swiveling around to gaze at me. Iris came to stand behind the chair, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“You think it’s possible?” I asked her. She was silent for a long time.
“It’s possible,” she finally said into my ear. Then she kissed my cheek and left also.
Half of the website’s unique visitors wanted me dead immediately; half of the rest stopped by to let everyone know how stupid they were to believe such nonsense; half of the rest were ready to submit to my command and get the show on the road; half of those left had signed on to denounce me as impostor and proclaim themselves as antichrists. Which left about eight million people who admitted they had come to the website looking for answers.
All this I, of course, only guessed. Or rather, estimated, judging from those posts I had been able to peruse during the hours between Iris’s departure and a rooster’s luciferian song coming from the garden.
“It’s possible,” I told myself, as the sun’s first beams touched the books and paintings. There are people out there, many people, who want to hear, see, feel, do something different. There are people there who want the circus to stop. There are people who want to know they are not alone.
Touching the keyboard for the first time, I created a new forum topic.
In the title bar I typed: Nothing is inevitable.