Thunder, Perfect Mind

Thunder, Perfect Mind

The prophet dressed in loose robes. They wore trousers like a man but kept their head covered by a long shawl like a woman. They seemed to refer to themselves as both man and woman, or neither, which made their grammar hellishly confusing to Truth. Action followed word, for they walked through the places of both men and women alike and did as they pleased there. This would usually see someone stoned to death, but the prophet just... fit in wherever they were. They were never alien. After listening to them speak, you felt a growing dread that the wrongness was in you.

Truth always listened to the prophet speak. He liked to follow them in those places he was allowed and listen to them reveal the secrets of the world. He hoped one day to see as they saw and understand as they did. But that truth, though revealed to him, had not been understood by him. That was alright. The Prophet didn’t really want anything and was content if you just listened and thought. Today, the prophet sat on a sandstone wall that kept in a neighbor’s chickens and recited a bit of their favorite hymn.

I am the disgraced and the exalted one.

Give heed to my poverty and my wealth.

Do not be haughty to me when I am discarded upon the earth,

And you will find me among those that are to come.

And do not look upon me on the garbage-heap and go and leave me discarded.

And you will find me in the kingdoms.

And do not look upon me when I am discarded among those who are disgraced and in the least places,

And then laugh at me.

And do not cast me down among those who are slain in severity.

But as for me, I am merciful and I am cruel.

“What do you think it means?” The prophet asked.

“I don’t know. It seems all contradictions.” Truth shrugged.

“Really? Where?”

“I am the disgraced and the exalted one? I am merciful and I am cruel?” Truth asked.

“What if I were neither disgraced nor exalted? Would that resolve the contradiction? Or what if I was both merciful and cruel?”

“How could that be possible?”

“Simple. I am not this.” The prophet waved at themselves. “As you are not this.” They waved at Truth. “Since I am not this dross, I am that which is perfect, eternal, and free. But that spark, that perfect self, is trapped in this ball of mud and dung. So I am both disgraced and exalted, and I am neither of those things, for what I truly am is perfection, which is beyond honor and shame. Likewise, I am merciful and cruel, for my perfection incorporates those ideas but sublimates them.”

The prophet took another look at Truth. “'Sublimates' means to improve or refine. I’m using it to mean that my perfection perfects the concepts and includes them in its totality.”

Truth thought it through. “I understand what you are saying, but I don’t see it. All this feels pretty real to me. If I don’t relieve myself of some dung, mudball or not, bad things will happen.”

The prophet chuckled. “The truth of the world is not revealed to all, youngster. But it won’t hurt you any to think about it. A̴̡̰͔̲̠̘̲̤̳̫͗̑̇̐͋͋̃̑̈͘͝n̸̢̡̫̻͔̮͉̲̲̺͎͑̔͗̇͆͒̄d̷̡̻͓̯͓̖͚̜̞̈́̆͑̊̀ ̶̳͈͂r̵̦̖͇̥͙̒͛̂̿̓͝ę̵̻̣̘̲̹̱̈́̈́̑̑͐̍̏́̄͆̐̾̒̈͝m̷͉̑̒̿͂̃͘͝e̴̡̗̜͙͉͋̈̔͂̾͐̑͑͜͠m̸̭̫̠̻͔͓̭͇͉̮͎̪̂̇͐̈́ͅb̷̡͕̠̳͎̝͚̫̆̊̐̿́̕͝ė̸̛̼͆ṝ̶̯̲͕͍̫̹͕̤̉̿̇͜.̴̻̠̣̼̄͋̃̿̈̅̽̽̈̓̑̆͂̓͜”

Ithurtsithurtsithurts OH GODS what the FUCK WAS THAT?! AAAhhhowoww, why can’t you just die?!

Truth slowly woke up. He was in a hospital bed. Nice crisp sheets, talisman papers glued all over his body, potion on a drip running into his vein. It was pretty quiet. Maybe a private room. Still waking up to the sounds of faint screaming. Still not remembering his dreams. Maybe they had vent problems here too? There was a soft “ding” noise. A few moments later, a door opened, and a plump older woman in scrubs entered.

“And how are we feeling today, Mr. Medici?”

“Not a very deep one, Corporal. Not deep enough.”

There was a pause.

“My team didn’t make it, did they?”

“No, Corporal, they did not. However, you don't need to feel responsible. Special dispensation was made, and your permanent record will not be negatively impacted by the total loss of corporate assets under your supervision.”

“Thanks.” Boy, those tranquilizers were something. He knew he should be furious, but he just couldn't be.

“Don’t thank me, thank your benevolent superiors in Starbrite! No other company would be so incredibly generous! The good news is that Ms. Yoo Sung survived unharmed.” Benny pulled up a stool and sat next to the bed. He steepled his fingers and looked thoughtfully at Truth.

“I wouldn’t usually disclose the private matters of another employee, but you must understand a little of the internal politics here. Besides, even a little casual digging would find all of this.” Benny flicked away the minor detail.

“Ms. Yoo Sung is, in fact, one of our better up-and-coming scry stars. Her mother is already a well-established performer. Her father is no longer in the picture, but her stepfather is a very senior regional director.”

“Code Blue Wolf Torn?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny. Now, just to, hah, confirm, Ms. Yoo Sung did mention the words “Prismatic Iridium” to you?”

“Hard to remember. There was a blinding white light.” Truth lied.

“For the best, really. Because while there will be no keeping it secret long term, in the immediate future, anyone connected to anything connected to those words leaking out would land in a whole world of hurt. Just awful stuff.” Benny looked grave. “I know you understand. And understand why the rest of the scry crew was... deprioritized.”

“Yeah. How did the company know to order the evac?”

“We got the daily rushes from the production. It didn’t take long to figure out what was what. The rebels were moving long before we were, of course, but....”

Truth just nodded. He got it.

“Nobody knows what the rebels attacked with, but there is credible evidence that they were funneling illegal mining profits into buying strategic tier curses and invocations from rogue states. Shit like this, Corporal, is why sanctions exist.” Benny looked sick.

“It knocked out huge chunks of Kofi and a dozen more locations across the country. It was a massive spiritual entity of some exalted rank. I understand the demonologists and spiritualists are having a field day right now.” Benny shrugged. “Casualties are still being sorted out, but it’s bad. It’s also not your problem.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Now, I understand that you will need some time off, and that’s already approved. The Company would prefer you laid low for a while too. So, your new mission should be popping up shortly, and it’s a good ‘un. Oh, don’t worry! We contacted your siblings. They know you are safe and enjoying a meditation retreat with a spa service as part of your reward for rescuing a beautiful scry star.”

“Spa service!?”

“The Star of Mercy isn’t any old hospital ship.” Benny leaned in; eyes fever bright.

“Corporal, you are a combat savant. You survived an attack, seemingly unharmed, that obliterated thousands of lives. Quite possibly more than ten thousand, they are still sorting through the rubble. What's more, you are fanatically loyal to Starbrite, and your entire family is working like hell to join Starbrite. A very, very, very senior figure said to look after you. So enjoy the next week, Corporal. I wish I had your luck.”

MISSION: Spend the next seven days enjoying the services and facilities available on the Star of Mercy hospital ship, including, but not limited to, Expert administration of your Stellar Dowsing Elixir, Stellar Ray Concentration Chamber, emotional support groups, one on one therapy, relaxational exercise, twenty-three types of massage, four swimming pools, a waterslide, salon, sauna, ice baths, tentacle baths, baths of icy tentacles in a sauna, eight full bars, sixteen anointed 33rd-degree enlightened mixologists, two onboard alchemists, gourmet meals at one of three onboard restaurants, movies in the onboard theater, scry available in your suite on demand, and a VVIP pass to the pet café.

BUDGET: Paid by CODE INDIGO PYRAMID RAIN

REWARD: One performance point.