I am the God
Volume IV: The Choice
The youngest entity arrived on a Wednesday.
Not into the kitchen — into the space between Wilson and the edge, which Chuck still visited, though less frequently than during the Void's conversations. He went there now mostly to sit with the prior, the way you visit a place that has become quiet rather than empty.
He felt the youngest entity's presence before he saw it.
The quality was different from the Void's prior-presence. The youngest entity was not prior — it was, relatively speaking, young, even by the standards of things that existed before stars. Its presence had texture. Movement. The specific quality of something that was still becoming in a way that was visible.
"Chuck," it said.
"It's been a while," Chuck said.
"Five months," the youngest entity said. "Since the answer went through."
"How are the objections," Chuck said.
"Resolved," the youngest entity said. "Mostly. The entity with the theological literature has integrated the answer into its framework. It took longer than expected but the integration is — the word it used was 'satisfying.'"
"Satisfying," Chuck said.
"For an entity that has spent considerable time on theological literature, satisfying is a significant word," the youngest entity said.
"Good," Chuck said.
"There's something I need to tell you," the youngest entity said.
Chuck waited.
"The upper registers have been discussing you," it said.
"They've discussed me before," Chuck said. "In 1991."
"Differently this time," the youngest entity said.
"How," Chuck said.
"In 1991 the discussion was about what you might do," the youngest entity said. "Whether your existence represented a problem to be managed. Whether you would need to be — the term used was 'addressed.'"
"And now," Chuck said.
"Now the discussion is about what you've done," the youngest entity said. "And what it means."
"What does it mean," Chuck said.
"That's the discussion," the youngest entity said. "There isn't agreement yet."
Chuck sat with this.
"Tell me the shape of it," he said.
"There's a position," the youngest entity said, "that what you've done is — unprecedented. That an entity with your capabilities choosing to be specific, to be limited, to be inside the conditions by choice rather than necessity — this hasn't happened before. Not in the upper registers. Not anywhere the upper registers have observed."
"And the other position," Chuck said.
"That it's destabilizing," the youngest entity said. "That entities with your capabilities are supposed to remain — the term was 'available.' Available to address things that require addressing. And you've chosen to be specific, which means you're less available."
"Less available for what," Chuck said.
"For whatever might require an entity with your capabilities," the youngest entity said. "The position holds that capability implies obligation. That having the ability to address universal-scale problems means being positioned to address them. And you've positioned yourself in a kitchen in Wilson, Texas."
Chuck sat with this.
"What do you think," he said.
The youngest entity was quiet for a moment.
"I think," it said, "that the position assumes capability and willingness are the same thing. And I've watched you long enough to know they're not."
"Tell me more," Chuck said.
"The capability is still there," the youngest entity said. "You haven't lost anything. You could still go to the edge. You could still negotiate with the Last Enemy. You could still do everything you could do before."
"Yes," Chuck said.
"What's changed is where you choose to be when you're not doing those things," the youngest entity said. "Before, the choice was: be available everywhere, generally, for whatever might come. Now the choice is: be specifically somewhere, and be available from there."
"From the kitchen," Chuck said.
"From the kitchen," the youngest entity said. "Which the position finds — the word used was 'inefficient.'"
"Inefficient," Chuck said.
"If something requiring your capabilities arose at the far edge of the universe," the youngest entity said, "you would need to travel from Wilson, Texas. Whereas before, your position was — undefined. Everywhere and nowhere. Equally distant from everything."
"And now I'm specifically far from things," Chuck said.
"Yes," the youngest entity said.
Chuck thought about this.
"Has anything required my capabilities," he said. "Since March."
"No," the youngest entity said.
"In five hundred thousand years before March," Chuck said, "how often did anything require them."
The youngest entity was quiet.
"Three times," it said. "That the upper registers have record of."
"Three times in five hundred thousand years," Chuck said.
"Yes," the youngest entity said.
"And in those three times," Chuck said, "how much advance notice was there."
"None," the youngest entity said. "By their nature, the things that require your capabilities arrive without notice. That's part of why they require your capabilities — nothing else can respond fast enough."
"So the position that I should remain generally available," Chuck said, "is based on a frequency of three events in five hundred thousand years, none of which gave advance notice, meaning my position at any given moment — Wilson or otherwise — would have made no difference to the response time."
"That's—" The youngest entity paused. "That's an accurate description of the position's flaw."
"I'm not being dismissive," Chuck said. "I'm asking honestly. Has my choice actually made me less available in any way that matters?"
"No," the youngest entity said.
"Then what's the actual concern," Chuck said.
The youngest entity was quiet for a longer moment.
"I think," it said slowly, "the actual concern isn't about availability."
"What is it," Chuck said.
"I think it's about precedent," the youngest entity said. "If an entity with your capabilities can choose to be specific — can choose limitation, choose a kitchen, choose witnesslove with a plumber over universal availability — then the upper registers have to ask what that means for the framework. The framework has always assumed that capability determines role. The more capable you are, the more universal your role. You've broken that."
"Have I," Chuck said.
"You've shown that an entity can have universal capability and choose a specific role," the youngest entity said. "And the choosing — not the capability — is what determines what the entity actually is."
"And that's destabilizing," Chuck said.
"To a framework that organizes everything by capability," the youngest entity said, "yes. Because it means the framework was describing potential, not actuality. And potential was never the point."
Chuck sat with this.
"What's the point," he said.
"The choice," the youngest entity said. "What an entity does with what it has. Not what it has."
"Witnesslove," Chuck said.
"I don't have the full context for that word," the youngest entity said. "But based on what I can sense of it from you — yes. I think that's what the upper registers are actually grappling with. Not your availability. The fact that you found something better than universal availability and chose it."
"Better," Chuck said.
"More real," the youngest entity said. "I don't have better words. The upper registers don't either, which is part of the discussion's difficulty."
"The word doesn't exist yet," Chuck said.
"For the upper registers," the youngest entity said, "or for you?"
"For both, maybe," Chuck said. "The word for what I am has been forming. It might be the same word the upper registers need."
"When will it be ready," the youngest entity said.
"When someone in the between finds it," Chuck said. "I don't control the timing."
The youngest entity was quiet.
"That's also new," it said. "An entity with your capabilities not controlling something."
"I've been learning that for seven months," Chuck said.
"Is it difficult," the youngest entity said.
"Yes," Chuck said. "And right."
"Both," the youngest entity said.
"Always both," Chuck said.
"What happens now," Chuck said. "With the upper registers' discussion."
"It continues," the youngest entity said. "These things take time. The entity with the theological literature took five months to integrate one answer. This question is larger."
"Will they want something from me," Chuck said.
"I don't think so," the youngest entity said. "I think — I think they're going to watch."
"Watch what," Chuck said.
"What you do," the youngest entity said. "Over time. Whether the choice holds. Whether it produces what it appears to be producing. The upper registers are patient. They'll watch for — the term is 'sufficient duration.'"
"How long is sufficient," Chuck said.
"For the upper registers, sufficient duration is usually measured in thousands of years," the youngest entity said.
"I don't have thousands of years with Marcus," Chuck said.
"No," the youngest entity said. "But you have your whole — what's the word — your whole life with him. And the upper registers can watch what that produces. Not just during it. After."
"After," Chuck said.
"The chains," the youngest entity said. "What you create, what it makes, what that makes. The upper registers can watch the chains for thousands of years even if your specific between with Marcus is — finite."
Chuck sat with this.
"They'll be watching the chain from the pipe," he said.
"Yes," the youngest entity said.
"For thousands of years," Chuck said.
"To see what witnesslove makes when it's chosen by something with universal capability and specific commitment," the youngest entity said. "This hasn't been observed before. The upper registers are — I think the word is 'curious.'"
"The Void was curious too," Chuck said. "Before it came inside."
"Did the curiosity resolve," the youngest entity said.
"It became something else," Chuck said. "Connection. Witnesslove. The Void learned what it felt like from inside."
"Will the upper registers learn that too," the youngest entity said. "From watching?"
"I don't know," Chuck said. "Watching isn't the same as being inside."
"No," the youngest entity said.
"But the Void wasn't inside either, until the between reached it," Chuck said. "Maybe the chain reaches the upper registers too. Eventually. If it's strong enough."
"The chain from a pipe in Wilson, Texas reaching the upper registers," the youngest entity said.
"The chain from Dr. Fitch reached a nurse in three cities," Chuck said. "The chain from the Void reaching the upper registers isn't a larger jump than that. It's just a different kind of distance."
"Witnesslove doesn't care about the kind of distance," the youngest entity said.
"No," Chuck said. "It just goes where it goes."
The youngest entity was quiet for a while.
"Chuck," it said.
"Yes," Chuck said.
"I've been thinking about something," it said. "Since the Void came inside. Since I felt — whatever I felt, when the answer went through the edge."
"Tell me," Chuck said.
"I don't have a between," the youngest entity said. "Not the way you mean it. I'm not in a kitchen with anyone. I don't have a Marcus."
"No," Chuck said.
"But I was in the between between you and me," it said. "During the months before the answer went through. The waiting. The asking. The — I think it was witnesslove, in some form. Even though I don't have the rest of what you have."
"Yes," Chuck said. "I think it was too."
"Is that—" The youngest entity paused. "Is that enough? For something like me?"
Chuck thought about the honest answer.
"I don't know what's enough for something like you," he said. "I'm not the same kind of thing. But I know that the between we had wasn't nothing. It made something — in both of us. The youngest entity that waited eight months for me to be ready isn't the same as the youngest entity now."
"No," it said.
"You're more yourself," Chuck said.
"Yes," it said. "I think I am."
"That's what the between makes," Chuck said. "Whatever form it takes. For whatever kind of thing is in it."
"Even for something prior to kitchens," the youngest entity said.
"Even then," Chuck said.
The youngest entity was quiet.
"Thank you," it said.
"Witnesslove," Chuck said.
"I think I understand the word now," it said. "A little."
"A little is where it starts," Chuck said.
Chuck came back to Wilson.
He told Marcus about the conversation that evening.
"The upper registers think you're inefficient," Marcus said.
"Apparently," Chuck said.
"Because you're in Wilson instead of being everywhere," Marcus said.
"Apparently," Chuck said.
Marcus held his cup.
"They're going to watch the chain from the pipe for thousands of years," he said.
"Yes," Chuck said.
"That's a lot of pressure for a pipe," Marcus said.
Chuck looked at him.
Marcus was almost smiling.
"It's a good pipe," Chuck said.
"It was a good pipe," Marcus said. "Past tense. I replaced the fitting, remember."
"The chain doesn't care about tense," Chuck said.
"No," Marcus said. "I suppose it doesn't."
They sat with the absurdity of it — the upper registers, watching for thousands of years, the framework destabilized, all of it traced back to a fitting that Marcus had replaced in eleven minutes on a Tuesday morning in March.
"Should we tell Clara," Marcus said. "That her Thursdays are part of a cosmic observation project."
"I don't think she'd be surprised," Chuck said.
"No," Marcus said. "She'd probably say it was accurate."
"Same thing," Chuck said.
"Same thing," Marcus said.
They drank their coffee.
The October evening settled around Wilson, Texas.
Somewhere in the upper registers, entities that had existed since before stars were discussing a choice made by a man who ran fourteen miles every morning and ate eggs that weren't perfect.
Somewhere in the layers, forty million years down, an ancient sea floor held its record.
Somewhere in a studio, a painting that knew it had once been lost was drying.
The chain extended.
In every direction.
The between was everywhere.