KNOCK AT THE DOOR
Kyle Nathaniel Ock III stood at his station and
held his breath for a second or two to avoid the olfactory tang left by the
departing Pilgrims, ozone and ... something else. Angelina says it smells
like bacon, whatever that is. He shuddered. Kyle could trust her. The way
she looked at him; those ravenous eyes, sent waves of nausea through him. He
shuddered again. Another hungry woman. I know what you're after. You want a
little boy, a little boy to have and to hold, a little boy all your own. But it
never works that way, well, hardly ever, not anymore. You just get girls ...
mostly. The odds were shockingly slim. The last published estimates were
two hundred and fifty to one and rising. But the steep odds did not deter those
hungry women. Eight billion hungry women, all of them aching for a little
boy of their own. Kyle swallowed nervously and tried to focus on the task
at hand.
He took a hesitant
breath, sampling the air for that smell. It was not too bad. His nose twitched
with disgust anyway. He had heard that humans once ate animal flesh. How
revolting. Trust Angelina to taint my workspace like that. He was sure she
did not like working with men. Some women were like that.
His mother was
like that. Even though he was her precious son, she did not want him to have
this job either. He had a holy task — one that overrode his earthly desires — to
begat more sons. It did not matter that he donated every week at the 'St
Catherine of Vadstena's Every-Seed-Is-Scared, Reclamation and Storage Centre';
she continued to introduce him to available women. He was thirty-four, not a
young man anymore. He had his dignity, but not much else.
Kyle restored the
defaults to The Door’s control board, carefully resetting the twelve-digit
Quantum Random Number Generator. The row of round zeros atop the sparkling
ten-sided dies pleased Kyle's eyes. He liked round numbers, threes, sixes, and
nines were nice, but eights and zeros were his favourites, never-ending curves.
He could cope with twos and fives, they at least had some redeeming features, but ones, sevens, and the dreaded four were all harsh angles. Kyle's palm's
sweated at the thought of seeing their bright hardness.
The printed form,
with the next set of Pilgrim's environment requests, sat atop the bulging stack
of this shift's transfers. There was no time to waste. Kyle picked up the sheet
of paper and lifted it to his nose. Paper, it felt nice in his hands and smelt
delicious, almost edible. So sweet, so rare, so analogue. The Quantum
Random Number Generator liked things that were analogue. There was not a digital
attachment or control on or near the Quantum Random Number Generator. The
vagaries of analogue controls all helped to make the process truly unique.
His eyes flicked
over the requests; Earth standard — well, that was the default — but most
Pilgrims had some idealised version of the world they were creating. Warm and
sunny, fluffy white clouds, they'd read the books on how to create your own
perfect world and “knew” all about it. Instant experts. Sure.
Kyle recognised
the settings, utopian, low gravity with increased life-energy. These
Pilgrims are looking for God. He shrugged. Not the first today. The
Quantum Random Number Generator played havoc with all the environment settings
but especially with life-energy. You needed some life-energy component in the
mix. Who wanted to create a lifeless universe? However, high settings did not
always mean a happy landing at The Lord's feet. It was like weather; everyone
had the climate settings on warm temperate. Climate is what you expect ...
weather is what you get.
With the controls
all set, Kyle leaned closer to the silver microphone and pressed the switch.
"Next, please." It never hurts to be polite. The Pilgrims
shuffled in, stretching and whispering after their time in the cramped waiting
room. This lot were all in white, diaphanous robes. Definitely a god-shot.
They had no supplies and no equipment. More of The Preacher's wayward flock,
trying to find a shortcut to The Rapture now that assassins' knives had cut
short, the cult leader's long-winded life. Kyle nudged the life-energy settings
upwards. You never know, it might help.
They crowded onto The
Door's sill as Kyle did a head count and checked the number off against the
form. This was the last chance to back out. The Door was strictly one way. The
Door would carry a volume four metres wide by four deep and three high to this
new world, to this new universe, created just for them. There was no coming
back. This group had done their calculations carefully, and they packed
tightly onto the sill. The young women smiled joyfully and whispered to each
other as they clung tightly together. The two young men looked nervous. Two
men. This small clique of girls and young women had convinced those two
poor souls to run away with them. Fools. A pretty, young girl caught
Kyle's eye; she smiled and gave him an excited wave. He smiled back. It
never hurts to be polite.
Placing his hands
to either side of the Quantum Random Number Generator, Kyle closed his eyes and
tried to clear his mind. Not many people could be a passive observer. Without
that ability, The Door was incomprehensible Escheresque statuary. Kyle had a
keen mind. That was why he had the job, of course. There were so few jobs
available to men and one as prestigious as this one, well; as far as Kyle was
concerned, it was a miracle and a godsend in one. Mother would be renting me
out by the hour if I hadn't tested positive.
His chest rose and
fell with each slow breath, and his mind's roar dropped to a whisper. He felt
the Generator detect his harmonious brainwaves, and the twelve, ten-sided jewels began to bounce. Kyle slowly opened his eyes. For this to
work properly, he needed to see the Quantum Random Number Generator in action.
One by one, the
numbered jewels settled into place. Kyle shuddered. 1, 4, 7 … This is bad.
5, 2, 4, 4… Oh, my lord! 7, 1, 2, 4, 4. All those fours! All those
sharp corners! Kyle shuddered. Oh, well. Bad things happen to good
people all the time. Didn't they?
Power surged
through The Door's twisted, unnatural geometry, and for a moment, The Door was
all there was in the universe. Its nightmarishly impossible crystalline
surfaces flashed into the infinite and began to slowly return to human
dimensions. Kyle readied himself for The Glimpse. He was required to report his
sensory impressions.
For the briefest of moments, the Keeper could see the Pilgrims and their new world. Kyle did not hold much hope that this union would be a happy one, so the thick black clouds and the rivers of boiling lava did not surprise him. Even the dark winged beings with the long-handled pitchforks quartering the sky were unexpected, but he had seen worse. This is what happens when you aim high. Sometimes. The young blonde girl, who had waved at Kyle, was certainly surprised. She opened her mouth to scream as her white robe caught fire. The Door slammed shut before the sound reached him. They were gone.
Kyle held his
breath for a second or two to avoid the smell of bacon and, he was sure, sulphur.
He reset the controls, placed a large red cross in the appropriate box on the
Pilgrim's form, wrote a brief descriptive note about the conditions on the
other side, and put it in the Out tray. Poor
kids. All those fours. He read somewhere that once Lucifer had been God's highest
angel. That’s pretty close, all those fours considered.
Kyle Nathaniel Ock
III, Keeper of The Door, Opener of The Way, leaned close to the
microphone and tried to sound warm and inviting, Cerberus
with a smile.
"Next
please."
Comments
Post a Comment