One or the Other

Prologue

It was brought into existence with a noise. Not a screeching noise, for a sharp noise would have suggested power and destiny. Those who were incredible or Almighty usually had some sort of exaggerated entrance in the theatre of life: the ground let loose shaking cries, and the wind whistled; the grass swayed and the trees danced; newborn babes wailed and the dogs howled. This principle was one created by the many Gods themselves: they had writ’ in their book of Law that those who could potentially destroy or create something, were to enter the universe dramatically. In this manner they could at least be forewarned and, post-haste, prepare themselves for whatever was going to come.

It did not enter the world with such a noise. It entered with a click.

There was definitely something to be said about the world it landed in. When something terrible or great (or terribly great) enters a world, it usually picks the one with the most impressionable folk within. Folk that would, for example, feed you their daughters. Shower you with gold. Worship you. Give you unquestionable loyalty. Things that weren’t all that uncommon and you could find without looking too hard. When such a person fell upon a world like Larkham and demanded these things, they were given a hearty slap on the back for effort, and then they were sent on their way. It usually took five to ten minutes for the miserable man or woman to realise that one of the little buggers had stolen their wallet.

Time passed, accompanied by the soft ‘tick, tock, tick, tock’of clockwork. Tick, tock- click.

There was no way to describe it. It had no past, no childhood, and no visible appearance. In a way it was like an unruly wind: it could be felt and heard, but never seen, no matter how keen the eye that looked upon it. It did not have room for intelligence, so it simply moved with instinct, devoid of emotions or intelligence; clever enough to think, but too dumb to know what to think about. It moved forwards, but it didn’t know why—it was capable of greatness, but did not realise it. If it could have had emotions, it would have felt sorry for itself. So it thought.

Then again . . . It did not think, it knew. It was not capable of thinking, but it was capable of knowing. Knowing was slightly different to thinking; it required facts, not opinion, and facts were something the creature was quite capable of. Thinking was a complicated proceedure, involving both opinion and imagination — but knowing was simple. It did not require anything other than fact. Fact could be formed on anything, and thoughts could only be formed in the mind.

Nothing changed in the world below the entity. Time still passed with satisfaction. Families all slept peacefully, awaiting a fresh morning. Drunken fools staggered across the streets, and thieves stalked in the shadows, patient for the perfect moment to strike. The seas still sludged along in the way they always had, and the beers still hardened overnight. This was Larkham, after all; a good drink was something that stuck to the cup, and a decent night out involved at least one barfight or two. Culture did not exist in Larkham. The entire population on the planet were like that. Larkham was just a small planet in a solar system, but it was also a fighting planet. A planet that picked itself up from the dirt and gave you a good kick in the groin…

But, in the worst city of Larkham — in Jawmunk — something stirred. And suddenly the trees rustled, and the grass swayed, and the wind blowed; children woke from slumber and began crying, the dogs howled mercilessly towards a moon that wasn’t there, and adults awoke from frightening dreams. Somewhere far off, the Gods began to scream.

The man looked up and stared at it. Similarly it looked down at him, because it could sense him. The creature stared at him with eyes it did not have, and because it wanted to, it transported thousands of miles downwards. Down and down, until it could stare at the man who was looking. Who was staring. The man with the frightening eyes; the man that Nature warned you of. The man that the universe reacted to. It looked down at him and he looked up at it, and the fate of the world was signed: it was signed as soon as the man let his bitter voice slip into the night.

Capable of greatness . . .

“Come with me.”