King Hum nodded, blushing. “I apologize for those who came before me,” he said. “What has been done to the Earth is bound to be mankind’s worst mistake.”
“When done wrong, yes,” the robed Hum replied.
The nude king tilted his head, confused.
“My child, did you think I had no plans to change our planet?” the clothed one asked. “I don’t approve of the destruction in some places, but humanity was meant to adapt. To evolve. And with them, so too shall the world around them.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“The world cannot shape itself,” God said. “It is alive and vibrant, but it needs craftsmen to reshape it. The world needs to evolve in so many different ways, but it needs help to do so. In order to change the world, though, a person must first change themselves. Even if it means losing the thing they cherish most.”
“I wish I were wise enough to understand,” King Hum said, bowing his head in humble embarrassment.
“I speak in riddles, my child; there is no error on your part,” the robed man replied, a warm smile permanently stitched onto his lips. “Allow me to be clearer: it’s time to shed the body, Hum. The human body.”
The young king recoiled a little, his confusion growing. “Shed my body?” he asked.
“To ascend to the next stage of evolution. To become closer to me, my child.”
“But — is it my time to die?” King Hum asked. There was no fear in his tone, just bewilderment.
“You won’t be dying, my child,” God replied. “You’ll be reborn. You’ll become what all your people must become before joining the great spirit and my ranks. All you have to do is walk through the door.”
As the words left his lips, a simple doorway appeared from thin air. Aside from the manner it materialized, there was nothing remarkable about it. Constructed of cheap wood, the white-painted door swung open on old brass hinges.
Beyond the frame was pitch black. The robed man turned and smiled at the nude one, who stared into the void with aghast eyes.
Red Pill
“Come on,” Gauge said, scanning the interior of Sharpe’s basement. “We’ve got a limited amount of time to work with.”
Ethan couldn’t help but smile. “They tried to convince me you were part of a video game,” he said. “They tried to tell me I was imagining things — but I knew. I knew you’d be coming for me.”
“That’s great, kid,” Gauge replied, “Now come on!”
Ethan followed the People’s Union rebel up the stairs that let out through Sharpe’s home base and onto the Street. Everything seemed so much more static than it had before, like they were walking through a frozen timescape of the world around them. It didn’t just feel like they were alone, but like the map was glitching out on them. Ethan could swear he saw a bit of the textures on Sharpe’s sofa fade in and out of existence, like some old-school video game.
“They’re bound to be waiting for us this time,” Gauge said. He never looked back at Ethan while he led them out of the building.
Ethan shielded his eyes from the bright artificial sun when they opened the front door. It took a moment to adjust to the light and see the movement of over a dozen forms in the street. His heart jumped a little as he recognized rifles being raised. He saw police vehicles parked sideways to block off traffic. The cops, all wearing riot gear, had bright blue skin and dagger-sharp teeth. It seemed the system’s local antivirus software took the form of alien police officers.
“Hands up!” one of the creatures barked, his firearm at eye-level, the stock in his shoulder.
Ethan turned to Gauge with a look of panic. The I.I. seemed alert, but not afraid. Like he was prepared for this moment and just had a bit of stage anxiety.
“Nah,” said Gauge, addressing the alien cop who barked the order at them. “I don’t think we’ll be doing that.”
The redheaded man reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved what Ethan could only describe as a ball of lightning. Gauge hurled the thing right into the thick of the xeno-cops, then turned away, taking Ethan with him. The police officers panicked when the object landed by them, trying to scramble over each other and dive out of the way. It was too late, though. It detonated with a powerful concussion, pushing the vehicles away with sheer force. The light that emanated from the burst was so bright, Ethan had to shut his eyes, even while facing the other direction. He heard shouts of panic and pain from the aliens but didn’t dare turn to watch. It felt like a million lifetimes, but it was really only the blink of an eye.
Gauge let Ethan go and they both spun around to look at the xeno-cops, all scattered on the street, trying to figure out which way was even up. They staggered around with outstretched arms, or just scrawled on the asphalt, trying to find some shelter. Ethan couldn’t help but admire the authenticity of their confusion; it wasn’t like the program that ran the security was crashing or running into an error, but like actual people were blinded and frightened for their own safety. He rubbed his eyes, making sure his vision hadn’t been destroyed. Then he looked over at Gauge, who was rummaging through his pockets again.
“They’ve really beefed up security this time,” he commented. “They don’t want us to leave like we did last time. This time, they’re fighting back.”
“So what do we do?” Ethan asked. He kept feeling like dark spots were taking over the corners of his vision.
“We can’t take an escape hatch,” Gauge replied, pulling out an abstract red ball no larger than a grape from his pocket, “so we’re gonna go out the front door.”
With a flick of his wrist, the red ball went
