An End

you do

“Who’ve they sent?”

“Judith.”

“Is she—”

“She’ll do. She’s been a medium before.”

“Which time?”

“The last time. Here she comes.”

The viewer revealed the bending of galaxies toward the singularity. Flash of starburst as the planetship reassembled particle-by-particle. The transit ocean froze, shattered into infinite crystals as the end product of near- light materialized.

“Is she normal?”

“As normal as media come. Decades of experience with demigods. And in the last war,” Doctor noted the departure of Judith’s slither from her planet, “She had the chance to develop a relationship with the subject.”

“A relationship?”

“Not like that.” The slither soft-docked. “Let’s go meet her.”

Assistant shrugged its shoulders ineffectively. “I don’t know if I should—”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. She talks to gods. That’s all.”

“Right. You’re right.”

“Let’s go.”

in those days between the death of everything and the rebirth of less than humanity, it hurtled into damnation and spawned and its progeny spread outward and outward and consumed everything in their path, and before Omega, it judged that all that it had created was good and redeemable and it sent the newborns back into the blackness to save those unfortunate enough to have remained

Judith opened her eyes.

The sleep of liquid travel was disconcerting. She trusted the process, told herself to trust the process, but each time she woke up from the night between the stars, she had the urge to stand before a mirror nude and inspect herself to see if anything was missing.

That’s not where it’d be missing, Jud.

Ten fingers, ten toes, all the usual bipedal accoutrement. Little hands touched face; everything appeared to be all right there as well, except for the

Well. There would always be that.

Softdock platform extended, and the slither gently melted into the side of the warworld above System Fourteen-Seven, Planet One. Judith pulled herself out of the vacuum chair with a slurp, shook her hair around like a barker, coagulating pellets of liquispace emulsion floating freely, lazily spattering onto the walls. She pulled her hair back, squeezed more of the disgusting yet crucial slime from her coif. It was now dissipating into a high-density gas. She was dry.

“Situation?”

deity re-animated.

“Who is it?”

standard.

“Good. It’s been a while.”

plank extended.

The lock doors cycled open. Just beyond the chamber, Judith could see the disturbing androgynous faces of a Doctor and an Assistant. The Doctor held out a (claw) hand and tried to smile in that way the nearish always tried.

“Welcome, Medium Judith.”

She waved off the hand. “Take me to it.”

“Yes, of course. Have you been briefed?”

“Briefed? Briefly.” She walked briskly. It had been a long time since she’d been in the aether, and she was eager to talk to the god. She knew she was an addict. “Something about a planet being lost?”

“A new technology, yes. There was a terrorist—”

“What kind of technology?”

Doctor’s pace slowed. “I don’t know if I’m qualified to—”

“Just tell me.”

“It’s a silver. A metallic pathogen.”

they would live forever. in the ocean of silver fire, Omega would be the salvation and the nirvana and the extinction and the

“What’s it do?”

“Replaces biologic with metallic.”

“How’s it work?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“And it killed a planet?”

“Yes.”

Judith pinched the plastic cheek of the Doctor, squeezed it like a child’s. “Well you’d better find out how it works and what it is and who else has it, don’t you think?”

“Yes, of course. We—”

“Better get to work.” She glanced through the phased glass of the chamber at the end of the hallway. “This is it?”

“Yes, Medium.”

“Good. Seeya.”

Doctor bowed and retreated.

Judith placed her palm on the reader beside the door, waited for a miniscule genetic sample to be sequenced and verified, and entered the shielded chamber. God floated in a static tube at the chamber’s center, hardware connecting him as needed to the outside world, gelatin suspending him in near-solid.

“Hey there, buddy.” Judith smiled that smile, pulled up a wheeled chair to the glass. She sat down on it backwards. “How’ve you been?”

The host body remained motionless, swaying gently in the omnipresent sludge. Why did the basis of their technology have to be scum? Scum from trees? Scum from giant trees? She tapped on the glass, as if God were a goldfish. No reaction.

“Well, shit.”

She caught a flash of movement from the periphery of her vision and saw that Doctor and Assistant were observing from the deck above, shielded behind phase. Judith pulled the curtain that surrounded God’s static tube closed, blocking the view of the nearish. She preferred to work alone, or at least with real people.

Concealed by non-fabric, she withdrew the hardlink cable from the base of the static tube, plugged it snugly into the jack in the center of her chest between the cardiac shields and

turning, raindrops spattering on her face, face framed with curls, curls the color not of fire or blood but

atmosphere choking with something and

the in-dark answered with

wind

blew white paper, black ink, folded, to the floor. Pungent aroma, a humidity of percolation. Dark day, rain, undertone of well-groomed man in black suit on viewers, ratcheting tones of a music from somewhere, dark day people sipping black liquid, foamy brown liquid, something gathered from mountains. God sat alone at a table, the host body that of a young man with a streak of white in his hair, old eyes, a book bookmarked and set before him. Demian. Hesse.

She pulled out a chair across from Him and sat. “What the hell is that smell?”

He smirked, held out a mug. “This shit. Apparently they enjoy drinking it.”

“Oh God.” Judith rolled her eyes. She wondered what color they were. “When are we? Something’s not right about this place.”

He leaned back in his chair, contented. “You don’t like it?”