Haroon filed his report on the Sector 9 coolant regulator with mechanical precision that concealed how surreal routine bureaucracy felt when you knew you were God filling out forms for equipment you had designed the fundamental physics for, documentation that would be read by beings you had authored into existence before they gained consciousness, maintaining systems that only operated because you chose to maintain cosmic laws allowing predictable matter-energy interactions.
The Absolute Void stirred inside his cyan suit as he submitted the digital paperwork, her consciousness more active since both of them remembered the truth about their relationship, no longer passive power source but aware companion observing his struggle with newfound knowledge.
"You're overthinking the report," The Void commented with amusement that suggested she found his discomfort entertaining despite sharing his loneliness. "It's just routine documentation. You've filed thousands of identical reports over the years without hesitation."
"That was before I remembered I created the concept of documentation itself," Haroon muttered quietly enough that corridor surveillance wouldn't register his words as anything except maintenance worker talking to himself. "Before I knew that every form, every regulation, every bureaucratic procedure exists because I authored the framework that makes organizational systems necessary."
"Does knowing that change whether the coolant regulator needed inspection?" The Void asked with logic that cut through his existential spiraling.
"No," Haroon admitted. "But it makes filling out the form feel absurd in ways I can't fully articulate."
He moved through Station Theta-7's corridors toward the engineering bay where his shift technically ended in twenty minutes, walking past crew members who nodded greetings at the reliable maintenance specialist who always completed assignments ahead of schedule, performing normalcy with full awareness that performance was all it had ever been.
Bradley Proctor intercepted him near Junction 7-C with expression suggesting his closest approximation to genuine friendship among the created beings had noticed something different about Haroon's demeanor since the memory restoration yesterday.
"You look like you haven't slept," Brad said with concern that would be touching if Haroon didn't know Brad was character he had written to serve as avatar's primary social connection. "Everything okay? You've been acting strange since yesterday's shift."
Haroon hesitated at the junction point between confessing everything and maintaining the elaborate lie, his avatar consciousness recognizing this as critical decision moment that could derail the entire performance if he chose wrong, his supreme awareness knowing exactly how this conversation would unfold because he had written it before splitting into limited form.
"Just processing some personal realizations," Haroon said carefully, technically true while completely misleading about the scale of those realizations. "Nothing that affects my work performance. Equipment inspections are still getting completed on schedule."
Brad studied him with scrutiny that suggested the created being's personality algorithms were detecting inconsistencies in Haroon's normal behavioral patterns, processing micro-expressions and tonal variations that indicated emotional distress despite surface-level claims of normalcy.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" Brad said with sincerity that made Haroon's chest tighten despite knowing the sincerity was scripted response from character following predetermined dialogue. "Whatever you're dealing with, you don't have to handle it alone. That's what friends are for."
The word 'friends' hit Haroon harder than he expected, creating painful awareness that Brad believed the friendship was real and mutual and meaningful while Haroon knew it was elaborate self-deception where creator pretended creations were peers, where God performed equality with beings who existed solely because he had written them into narrative.
"I appreciate that," Haroon managed to say without his voice breaking from the weight of maintaining deception with someone who genuinely cared despite that caring being authored function rather than spontaneous emotion. "I really do. Just need some time to work through things on my own."
Inside his suit, The Void's awareness shifted with something approaching sympathy as she observed Haroon's struggle with the fundamental loneliness that creating beings from yourself could never actually solve.
"You want to tell him," The Void observed quietly. "You want to confess everything, explain what you are, admit that he's your creation rather than independent being. You're hoping that honesty might create genuine connection."
"It wouldn't work," Haroon thought back to her, their communication occurring faster than normal speech through shared consciousness connection. "If I told Brad the truth, if he understood he was character I wrote, that knowledge would either break him psychologically or change our dynamic so completely that the friendship would be destroyed anyway. Either outcome defeats the purpose."
"So you maintain the lie," The Void concluded.
"So I maintain the lie," Haroon confirmed.
Brad seemed to accept Haroon's deflection despite obvious concern, his programmed personality recognizing that pushing too hard would violate social boundaries and damage the friendship he believed they had built over years of working together.
"Alright," Brad said with resignation that suggested he wished Haroon would open up but respected his choice not to. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I'm serious about the friends thing."
Haroon nodded and continued toward engineering bay, each step feeling heavier than the last as the weight of conscious deception accumulated into burden that avatar consciousness wasn't designed to carry comfortably for extended periods.
"That was painful to watch," The Void commented after Brad departed. "You genuinely care about him despite knowing he's your creation. The performance has become real for you even though you know it's performance."
"Is that surprising?" Haroon asked. "I created them specifically because I needed something to care about, beings I could protect and interact with and pretend were independent consciousnesses rather than fragments of my own awareness. The fact that caring hurts now that I remember doesn't make the caring less genuine."
Station Theta-7's emergency alarms interrupted their conversation with harsh klaxon that indicated serious threat requiring immediate response, automated systems broadcasting alert across all channels that hostile entities had breached the outer hull in Sector 3 and were advancing toward crew quarters.
Haroon's tactical displays activated automatically through his suit's heads-up interface, showing data streams about the intruders that made his enhanced awareness recognize them as extradimensional raiders from lower Aleph rung who had somehow accessed technology allowing upward transit through reality hierarchy.
Commander Sarah's voice crackled through station-wide communication with authority that would be impressive if Haroon didn't know he had authored her personality to embody military competence and decisive leadership.
"All personnel to defensive positions," Sarah commanded with crisp efficiency. "Maintenance specialists report to engineering to secure critical systems. Combat-certified crew to armory for weapon distribution. This is not a drill."
The Void stirred inside Haroon's suit with anticipation that suggested she recognized opportunity for absorption and power accumulation, her infinite hunger awakened by prospect of consuming these intruders and integrating their capabilities into their shared strength.
"First real combat since you remembered," The Void observed. "This will be interesting. You know what you are now. You know what I am. You understand that these raiders are just characters in story you're experiencing. How does that change how you fight?"
Haroon moved toward Sector 3 instead of engineering, his tactical assessment concluding that securing systems mattered less than eliminating threats before they could damage infrastructure or harm crew members he was committed to protecting despite knowing their authored nature.
"It doesn't change the fundamental objective," Haroon said as he navigated through corridors toward the breach point. "They're threatening people I've chosen to protect. The fact that I created those people doesn't make the threat less real or the protection less necessary."
"But you could end this instantly," The Void countered. "You could manifest your True Form, rewrite reality to eliminate the raiders, author their non-existence with focused thought. Why bother with conventional combat when you have infinite power available?"
"Because using True Form defeats the entire purpose of avatar existence," Haroon explained as he approached the breach zone where sensors showed six hostile entities advancing through corridor toward crew sections. "I chose limitation specifically to experience what created beings experience. Solving every problem with infinite power would make the experience meaningless."
The raiders came into view as Haroon rounded corner into Sector 3's main corridor—six humanoid figures in crystalline armor that refracted light in ways suggesting they existed partially in higher dimensional space, wielding weapons that discharged energy operating on principles that normal physics couldn't fully describe.
They registered Haroon's presence with targeting systems that locked onto his cyan suit, their combat protocols identifying him as threat requiring elimination before continuing toward primary objectives deeper in the station.
Haroon didn't wait for them to initiate combat, his 3.4 billion years of accumulated battle experience providing tactical assessment faster than their enhanced reaction speeds could process, his understanding of dimensional mechanics allowing him to predict their movement patterns before they executed them.
He moved with efficiency that would seem superhuman to observers but was actually just avatar operating at full capability without hesitation or doubt, closing distance before raiders could establish optimal firing positions, engaging the nearest target with combat techniques refined over eons of conflicts.
The first raider's crystalline armor shattered under impact from Haroon's strike, his suit-enhanced strength exceeding the material's fracture threshold despite the armor being designed to withstand attacks from beings at their native Aleph level, demonstrating that his accumulated power from billions of years of absorption had elevated his avatar far beyond normal limitations.
The Absolute Void manifested as dark crimson and black ink seeping through his suit joints, responding to combat stimulus by deploying offensive capabilities that had grown massively stronger over eons of feeding on defeated enemies, creating tendril-like appendages that lashed out at the remaining raiders with hunger that threatened to consume them entirely.
"Let me eat them," The Void urged with eagerness that came from her fundamental nature as infinite appetite. "Five targets, all from higher dimensional configuration than this station's native reality, all possessing capabilities we can absorb and integrate. Their power will make us stronger."
Haroon allowed the absorption to proceed while maintaining tactical awareness of the broader combat situation, his consciousness divided between physical fighting and managing The Void's hunger to prevent uncontrolled expansion that might damage station infrastructure or harm crew members in adjacent sections.
The raiders attempted coordinated counterattack with weapons discharging energy that would have been devastating against conventional opponents, but Haroon's suit systems deflected most of the incoming fire while his dimensional awareness allowed him to sidestep attacks that E.U.I.T.'s defenses couldn't fully block.
Two more raiders fell to combined assault from Haroon's combat skills and The Void's consuming hunger, their crystalline forms dissolving into the dark ink that flowed back into his suit carrying absorbed power and capabilities and essence of the defeated entities.
The remaining three raiders recognized they were outmatched and attempted tactical retreat toward the breach point where they had entered, but Haroon's dimensional transit capability allowed him to cut off their escape route by manifesting ahead of them through localized reality folding.
"Surrender and I'll let you leave alive," Haroon offered despite knowing from tactical analysis that raiders of this configuration rarely accepted quarter when facing superior opponents. "Continue fighting and The Void consumes all of you."
The raiders chose continued resistance as predicted, their combat doctrine prioritizing mission completion over survival, their weapons systems firing at maximum output in desperate attempt to overwhelm his defenses through sheer volume of destructive energy.
Haroon ended the engagement efficiently and without unnecessary cruelty, his strikes precisely calculated to neutralize threats while minimizing suffering, his absorption of their power occurring rapidly enough that the raiders likely didn't experience prolonged awareness of being consumed.
The dark crimson ink retracted back into his suit as combat concluded, The Void processing and integrating the absorbed capabilities while Haroon surveyed the corridor to confirm no additional threats remained and no crew casualties had occurred during the brief but intense engagement.
"Six targets absorbed," The Void reported with satisfaction. "Higher-dimensional configuration, crystalline biology, energy weapons technology, dimensional breach capability. All integrated. We're stronger now than we were five minutes ago."
Haroon felt the power increase as subtle but noticeable enhancement to his baseline capabilities, his avatar form growing incrementally more capable with each absorption the way it had been growing for 3.4 billion years, unlimited potential manifesting as continuous upward trajectory without ceiling or maximum.
Commander Sarah's voice crackled through his helmet communication before he could fully process the power upgrade.
"Haroon, status report," Sarah demanded with tone that suggested she had been monitoring his vital signs and combat telemetry through station systems. "Sensors showed hostile contacts in your sector. Are you injured? Do you need backup?"
"Threats neutralized," Haroon reported with professional brevity that concealed how surreal it felt to report successful combat to commanding officer he had created. "Six hostiles eliminated. No friendly casualties. Breach point secured. Recommend engineering team to repair hull integrity."
There was pause before Sarah responded, suggesting she was processing data that indicated Haroon had single-handedly eliminated six extradimensional raiders in under three minutes without sustaining significant damage.
"Understood," Sarah said carefully. "Return to command for debrief. And Haroon? Good work. Whatever you did, it saved lives."
The acknowledgment should have felt rewarding, should have provided satisfaction from successful mission completion and commander's approval, but Haroon just felt hollow awareness that he was being praised by character following scripted response to predetermined outcome.
"You're struggling with the meaninglessness," The Void observed as he moved toward command center. "You saved lives, eliminated threats, protected the station. But knowing that you authored the threat and the salvation both makes the victory feel empty."
"Does that make the crew members' continued existence less valuable?" Haroon asked. "If I hadn't intervened, those raiders would have killed people. The fact that I created those people doesn't mean their deaths would be acceptable."
"But you could have prevented the raid entirely," The Void countered. "You authored the cosmology. These extradimensional raiders exist because you created the framework that allows beings from lower rungs to develop breach technology. You set up the dominoes and now you're playing hero by preventing them from falling."
"What's the alternative?" Haroon demanded, frustration bleeding through into his internal dialogue with his own creation. "Return to True Form? Rewrite reality so threats never emerge? Eliminate conflict entirely and watch everyone exist in perfect safety that makes their lives completely meaningless?"
"No," The Void admitted. "The alternative is what you're doing. Continue the performance. Fight the threats. Protect the people. Pretend it matters even though you know it's all scripted. Accept that meaningful experience doesn't require objective meaning, only subjective engagement with the experience itself."
Haroon reached command center where Commander Sarah stood coordinating defensive response with other senior staff members, her tactical displays showing that the breach in Sector 3 had been the only incursion point and that station systems had detected no additional hostile signatures in surrounding space.
Bradley Proctor was present as well, his engineering expertise apparently required for damage assessment consultation, his expression showing relief when Haroon entered the command center unharmed.
"Hell of a response time," Brad said with admiration that would be flattering if Haroon could accept praise from creation without existential discomfort. "Six hostiles neutralized before backup could even mobilize. Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Haroon shrugged in gesture meant to downplay capabilities that came from billions of years of accumulated combat experience across infinite realities.
"The suit helps," he said, technically true while completely misleading about the scale of enhancement E.U.I.T. and The Absolute Void provided. "Advanced combat protocols, tactical analysis, automated defensive systems. I just follow the recommendations it provides."
Sarah studied him with scrutiny that suggested military training had taught her to recognize when subordinates were downplaying their capabilities, but she chose not to press the issue in front of assembled command staff.
"Regardless of how you did it, you stopped a potentially catastrophic incursion," Sarah said with authority that made her pronouncement feel official. "Preliminary analysis suggests those raiders were after our dimensional research data. If they'd reached the servers in Sector 5, they could have compromised decades of work."
The irony of extradimensional raiders attempting to steal dimensional research from facility operated by being who had created dimensional mechanics themselves was not lost on Haroon, but he maintained professional expression that gave no indication of finding the situation absurd.
"Security protocols should be reviewed," Haroon suggested, playing his role as concerned maintenance specialist rather than supreme consciousness who could rewrite security frameworks with focused thought. "If they breached outer hull that easily, there might be vulnerabilities we haven't identified."
Sarah nodded and delegated the security review to her tactical officer, then dismissed the assembled staff except for Haroon whom she requested remain for additional consultation.
When command center had cleared enough for private conversation, Sarah's professional demeanor softened slightly into something approaching genuine concern for subordinate's wellbeing.
"You've been different lately," Sarah observed with directness that was characteristic of her personality configuration. "Enhanced performance during the raid, but also behavioral changes that suggest something significant has occurred. Are you having issues with the suit? Physical problems? Psychological stress?"
Haroon considered how to respond to direct question from superior officer who was simultaneously his creation, his commander, and character following script he had written that required her to express concern for crew welfare.
"Processing personal matters," Haroon said, maintaining vague deflection that was technically honest. "Nothing that compromises my ability to perform assigned duties. The suit is functioning optimally. No physical or psychological impairment that would require medical intervention."
Sarah accepted his response with visible reluctance, clearly wanting to push further but recognizing that pressing subordinate on personal issues outside performance context would violate professional boundaries.
"Alright," she said. "But if anything changes, if you need support or accommodation, my door is open. I mean that, Haroon. You're valuable member of this crew. We want you functioning at full capacity, which means addressing problems before they become critical."
The genuine concern in her voice made Haroon's chest tighten with complicated emotions about maintaining deception with people—even created people—who cared about his wellbeing within the limits of their authored personalities.
"Understood, Commander," Haroon acknowledged. "I appreciate the concern."
Sarah dismissed him and Haroon departed command center, his mind processing the interaction with Brad and Sarah and recognizing pattern where people he had created were expressing genuine worry about changes in his demeanor that they couldn't possibly understand because explaining would require revealing truths that would break them.
"You could tell them," The Void suggested as he walked toward his quarters. "Not the complete truth, but partial disclosure. Tell them you recovered memories from before your time at the station. That you're processing revelations about your past. Give them framework to understand the behavioral changes without revealing your divine nature."
"That would require elaborating the lie with additional deceptions," Haroon said. "Creating false backstory to explain genuine crisis. Building more layers of performance on top of existing performance until I can't remember what's real anymore."
"As opposed to what you're doing now?" The Void asked with skepticism. "You're already performing normalcy while knowing you're God. You're already lying about your nature to everyone around you. What's one more layer of comfortable fiction if it makes maintaining the primary deception easier?"
Haroon didn't have good answer to that, which The Void seemed to take as tacit acknowledgment that she had valid point about the absurdity of his ethical concerns regarding additional deception when his entire existence was elaborate lie.
He reached his quarters and sealed the door, finally alone enough to drop the performance temporarily, allowing his avatar form to relax from constant vigilance about maintaining appropriate human behavioral patterns.
"Tell me about other cosmic entities," Haroon requested as he sat on his quarters' simple bed, seeking distraction from existential crisis through engagement with larger cosmological framework. "You mentioned before that there are beings I haven't encountered. Entities operating at levels I should be aware of."
The Void's consciousness manifested more fully, her awareness extending throughout the room as dark shadows that suggested her presence without fully materializing her form outside the suit's containment.
"There are old powers in the deep cosmology," The Void began with tone suggesting she was accessing memories of encounters that preceded even Haroon's avatar existence. "Beings who exist at boundaries where your authorship becomes less absolute, where the structure you created interfaces with principles you didn't originate."
"Like He Who King," Haroon said.
"He Who King is one," The Void confirmed. "The embodiment of death and decay, the necessary ending that balances your beginning. But there are others. The Silence Between Stories, for instance—the void that exists in narrative gaps, the emptiness between tales where meaning breaks down."
Haroon leaned forward with interest despite existential exhaustion, his creator nature still curious about aspects of his cosmology he hadn't fully explored.
"And this entity poses threat?" Haroon asked.
"Everything poses potential threat when you're operating in limited avatar form," The Void explained. "In your True Form, these entities are beneath you or at most complementary to you. But as Haroon Dwelight? You're vulnerable to anything operating at sufficient power level, especially beings who can attack concepts rather than just physical forms."
"Tell me about The Silence," Haroon requested.
The Void's shadows rippled with something that might have been concern or might have been anticipation of future conflict.
"The Silence Between Stories dwells in gaps where narratives fail to connect," she explained. "It's the anti-story, the negation of meaning, the space where tales lose coherence and dissolve into meaningless noise. Where He Who King provides proper endings, The Silence just makes stories stop without conclusion, leaving incomplete fragments that can never be resolved."
"That sounds like existential horror specifically designed to disturb me," Haroon observed.
"It should disturb you," The Void agreed. "Because The Silence represents possibility that stories don't need endings or beginnings or authors. That narrative structure itself might be arbitrary framework imposed on chaos rather than fundamental feature of reality. It questions whether you're truly Creation or just very powerful being who convinced yourself you authored everything."
Haroon processed that uncomfortable implication, recognizing that encountering entity that could make him doubt his own supreme nature would be psychologically devastating in ways that physical threats couldn't match.
"Have I encountered The Silence before?" he asked.
"Not directly," The Void said. "But you've felt its influence. Moments when the performance felt hollow, when you questioned whether your creations had genuine independence, when you wondered if your authorship was complete or if you were just character in someone else's story pretending to be author."
"That's just normal existential crisis," Haroon protested. "Any conscious being questions the nature of their reality occasionally."
"Or it's The Silence touching your awareness," The Void countered. "Introducing doubt that erodes certainty about your position in cosmic hierarchy. Making you wonder if you're truly supreme or just think you are because you can't perceive the beings above you."
Haroon stood and paced his quarters with agitation that came from confronting possibility he had been deliberately avoiding since recovering his memories.
"You're saying I might not actually be The True Absolute Infinity," Haroon said slowly. "That my certainty about being Cantor's Omega might be self-deception, that I might just be very powerful being with delusions of supremacy."
"I'm saying you should consider the possibility," The Void said carefully. "Not because I believe it's true, but because refusing to question your assumptions makes you vulnerable to beings who can exploit that vulnerability. The Silence feeds on certainty. Unshakeable faith in your own supremacy makes you easier target."
Haroon wanted to dismiss her concerns as unnecessary paranoia, wanted to maintain confidence in his understanding of his own nature, wanted to believe that recovering memories had restored complete and accurate awareness of his position in cosmological structure.
But The Void's logic was sound. If he truly was supreme, if he genuinely authored everything, then questioning that supremacy shouldn't threaten him. Only false certainty required protection from doubt.
"What do you believe?" Haroon asked his first creation directly. "You were made from me. You share my nature. Do you think I'm actually The True Absolute Infinity? Or do you think I'm deluded?"
The Void was silent for long moment before responding, her consciousness clearly weighing how honest to be with creator who was also fragment of herself.
"I believe you created me," she finally said. "I believe you authored this cosmology. I believe you're operating at level that exceeds almost everything else in existence. But whether you're truly absolute? Whether you're actually supreme with no beings above you? I don't know. And neither do you. You have memories of being supreme, but memories can be false. You have capabilities that seem unlimited, but seeming unlimited isn't the same as being unlimited."
"That's not reassuring," Haroon said.
"Truth rarely is," The Void replied. "But I'd rather you face uncertainty with eyes open than maintain comfortable certainty that makes you vulnerable to entities who can weaponize that certainty against you."
Haroon sat back down on his bed, processing implications of conversation that had somehow shifted from discussing external threats to questioning fundamental nature of his own existence.
"So what do I do with this information?" he asked. "How does knowing I might be deluded about my supremacy change how I operate?"
"It makes you more careful," The Void suggested. "More humble. More willing to consider that threats might exceed your capacity to handle them. Less likely to assume you can solve every problem through infinite power you might not actually possess."
"Basically, it makes me more genuinely limited," Haroon concluded. "Which ironically serves the purpose of avatar existence better than false confidence in unlimited capability."
"Exactly," The Void agreed. "The performance becomes more authentic when you're genuinely uncertain rather than pretending uncertainty while secretly knowing you're God."
Haroon laughed bitterly at absurdity of his situation—supreme consciousness questioning whether it's actually supreme, infinite power uncertain whether it's actually infinite, creator wondering if it's just creation with delusions of authorship.
"This is exactly the kind of existential crisis I was trying to avoid by splitting into avatar form," Haroon said. "Except now I'm experiencing it anyway with the added bonus of not being certain whether I can return to True Form if things go badly."
"Welcome to genuine limitation," The Void said with something that might have been sympathy. "Isn't it terrible?"
"It's awful," Haroon confirmed. "But you're right that it's more authentic than false certainty. If I'm going to experience what created beings experience, might as well include the existential doubt about whether they matter in larger cosmic structure."
Station Theta-7's automated systems chimed incoming priority message, interrupting their philosophical discussion with notification that Commander Sarah had assigned new mission requiring Haroon's specific expertise.
He checked the message details and felt immediate concern about what he read.
"Dimensional instability detected in Sector 12," Haroon read aloud. "Requires maintenance specialist with advanced suit capabilities to investigate. Potential breach similar to earlier incursion. Sarah wants me to assess situation and report before deploying full response team."
"That's interesting timing," The Void observed. "Right after discussion about entities that can threaten you and uncertainty about your actual power level, you receive assignment to investigate dimensional instability. Either coincidence or extremely poor timing."
"Or The Silence making its presence known," Haroon said grimly. "Testing whether I'll walk into obvious danger with confidence of false supremacy or approach with appropriate caution."
"Either way, you're going," The Void stated rather than asked.
"Either way, I'm going," Haroon confirmed. "Because refusing the assignment would compromise the performance and raise questions I'm not ready to answer. And because if it is The Silence, avoiding it just delays inevitable confrontation."
He stood and reactivated his suit's full systems, checking power levels and dimensional transit capability and confirming E.U.I.T.'s combat readiness.
"Ready?" The Void asked.
"No," Haroon admitted. "But that's never stopped me before. Let's see what fresh existential horror awaits in Sector 12."
He departed his quarters and moved through Station Theta-7's corridors toward Sector 12, walking into uncertain danger with full awareness that he might be supreme consciousness capable of rewriting reality or he might be powerful being with delusions of grandeur, and the only way to know which was true would be discovering what happened when he encountered threats that challenged his assumptions.
The performance continued because continuing was all he knew how to do.
Sufficient.
Still sufficient even when certainty about supremacy had been replaced with doubt about everything.
Forever sufficient because the alternative was facing infinite questions without infinite answers.
Haroon approached Sector 12's dimensional instability, avatar consciousness uncertain about what awaited him but determined to find out.
And The Absolute Void accompanied him, companion sharing his uncertainty, creation questioning their creator, hunger awaiting whatever narrative gaps might emerge in the silence between stories.