The Mindscape
Noriko Null never liked this place, and she’s especially never liked the Monk.
There’s something irritating in the former Nexus host, even if she can’t quite put her finger on what.
<So when are we gonna start?> she asks, looking around. The simulated reality has taken a form that can only be described as an abstract painting, a mass of continuously interchanging colors.
Her avatar is still a copy of her actual body, but the Monk looks like a simple mass of light in the vague shape of a child.
<When you stop overthinking.> he tells her.
<Not a chance of that. Thinking is what I do best.>
<I said overthinking. Mastering Soul Control should take a lifetime: if you try to go too deep into its meaning before you are ready, your soul will not withstand the ordeal.>
<The god of medicine is monitoring my body in the real world, I’ll be fine.>
<That is your first mistake, Null. This world is no less real than the one of flesh and blood.>
<You know you’re not actually a person but just a simulation running on a computer, right?>
<Aren’t we all?>
<Jesus Christ, this is gonna take forever…> she sighs.
<Your mind is an emerging phenomenon from chemical reactions from your brain. What you consider “real” is just information. Your soul is information. And information, much like energy, can only be transformed: it can never be destroyed.>
<Science disagrees.>
<And does science know how a single being can absorb the information of an entire planet?>
<Not yet. But if you tell me I should go beyond science, I swear I’m gonna find a way to shove this New Age bulls##t up your simulated…>
<Nothing of the sort. But Soul Control requires the manipulation of so much information that your subconscious needs to override your conscious control over the Nexus.>
<Then why didn’t you say so in the first place!?>
<It was not what you needed to hear.>
<I’d take fighting a god over this crap any day of the week…>
Boreas, 3,000 light-years from Earth
Tyche is not used to being surprised. Her precognitive abilities have served her well enough in the past, but they are far from perfect. And it seems that her father Hermes is much more skilled at working his way around her power than she realized.
She doesn’t need to see the future to know that the guards who have stormed the throne room have absolutely no chance against Enyo: the war goddess doesn’t even bother shielding herself from their blasts, as the heated plasma launched from their rifles bounces off her armor.
<Dionysus, do something!!!> Tyche pleads her husband.
The god of wine and debauchery doesn’t seem to care that his kingdom has just been invaded by a hostile force, opting instead to offer a bottle of his best liquor to Hermes.
<Already on it!> he reassures her, opening another bottle and starting to chug.
As she watches Enyo trample over her forces like they were nothing, Tyche resorts to her last option: she throws herself out of the nearest window and flies towards the sky.
<Crew of the Talaria, this is your Queen! Ready to depart on my command!> she orders through radio waves, hoping to use her mothership to leave the system before Enyo can catch her.
Easier said than done when Hermes appears on her path.
<I don’t remember giving you the keys to my favorite ship, kid.>
<You can’t possibly be trusting Enyo, father! She’s insane!>
<You’re being too harsh on your soon-to-be stepmother, sweetie. True, she does have some minor anger management issues, but…>
The roof of the Winter Castle collapses as a goddess flies through it twenty times faster than the speed of sound. Tyche doesn’t even see her coming: by the time she feels her grabbing her by the ankle, she’s already been thrown into the nearest mountain.
<…you can’t argue with her results.> Hermes concludes.
Eresos, 40,000 light-years from Earth
From the top of her palace, the goddess of youth Hebe is looking down at the capital world of her realm. At a first glance not much has changed since she acquired the territory, but at a closer inspection the people in the street seem to be relieved by the luxury of being able to ignore their absolute ruler.
<It’s a nice planet.> Vesta congratulates her. She’s always been fond of Hebe: out of her dozens of nephews and nieces, she’s always felt she was the closest to her. The fact that she’s the only offspring of Hera not being a tyrannical monster helps.
<I haven’t even told them I might be the next ruler of Olympus. I still can’t quite believe it myself, if I have to be honest.> Hebe admits.
In the eyes of a mortal she could easily pass for a teenager, despite being several thousand years old. From Vesta’s perspective she’s still just a child.
<I know how it feels being the only member of the family who doesn’t want to rule.> Vesta tells her, following Hebe back to her throne.
The young goddess looks even younger when sitting on a throne that would be more fitting to her muscle-bound husband Herakles than to her frail figure.
<Thanks for sticking around, auntie. You know I value your wisdom… I just wish we could hang out more often. But my mother gets upset whenever I talk to you.>
<Being upset is Hera’s default setting.>
An innocent giggle escapes Hebe’s attempt to control herself; she immediately regrets it and looks around nervously, as if she was terrified at the possibility of her mother hearing her.
<We shouldn’t talk about mom like this.>
<Hebe, you’re a grown goddess now. You should learn to stand up to your mother.>
<I don’t know if I have the courage, auntie. I’m not you.>
<What do you mean?>
<You’re not afraid to challenge the rest of the pantheon for what you believe in. I’d never be able to do that. Maybe… maybe I should just say that I want you to succeed to the throne.>
<That ship has sailed a long time ago, Hebe. Besides, do you really think the other gods would go along with that?>
<No, I don’t think so, you’re right. What should I do, auntie? I don’t want to rule Olympus. I never even wanted this throne! Nobody wants me to rule… even Herakles is not interested, he just spends all of his time chasing fights and sleeping around.>
<I’m sure he’s, uhm, I’m sure he’s not really…>
<I’m not that naïve, auntie. My husband doesn’t even try to hide how unfaithful he is to me.>
<You’re not upset about it?>
<It can’t be helped. Demigods will be demigods.>
<You don’t really love him, do you?>
Hebe looks at her aunt in the eye when she answers, and for once Vesta really grasps the sadness hidden behind her innocence.
<I’m not expected to. I’m supposed to make him happy, not the other way around.>
<You can stop me if this is too personal, Hebe, but why did you even marry him? I can’t imagine Hera was too fond of the idea. To be perfectly honest, I never understood how she recognized the marriage, considering how much she detests Herakles.>
<Dad thought we would make a good couple. He said Herakles was his favorite son and I was… his second favorite daughter. But since Athena made a vow of chastity, he couldn’t convince her to marry anyone. Mom was pretty much forced to agree, no matter how she detests Herakles.>
<And now she’s going to make him King of Olympus.> Vesta comments, crossing her arms and looking pensive.
<King consort, yes. Something bothering you, auntie?>
<Does it really make any sense to you that Hera would actively try something like that?>
<Well… if you put it like that… not really, but what else can she do? Ares and Ilithyia are dead, and she can’t crown Enyo after she’s tried to kill her. Maybe she didn’t think this through.>
<My sister can be impulsive, yes, but she’s not stupid… she knows exactly what she’s doing. I think she’s planning to assassinate your husband.> Vesta deduces.
<What? My mother would never do something like that!!!>
Vesta doesn’t comment on this, except by raising an eyebrow.
<Well… maybe she would. But I’m in the line of succession only because I’m married: if Herakles dies, even after I’ve ascended, the crown should pass to the oldest married descendant of Zeus… but there isn’t one.>
<So what happens if there isn’t anyone in the line of succession?>
<I’m… I’m not sure. It’s not covered by the Succession Act, but I suppose either the remaining Twelve Gods would have to vote a successor, or…>
<Or the strongest god takes charge. If Herakles dies, either Zeus takes back the throne or Hera will undoubtedly seize power.> Vesta realizes.
Her niece looks at her, worried sick. They both know Hera would be capable of anything.
<Hebe… do you know where your husband is?>
Boreas, 3,000 light-years from Earth
Unlike gods of older generations, Tyche has not been exposed to much violence. As the daughter of the goddess of love nobody wanted to harm her, even when also being the daughter of the god of liars and thieves made her an excellent target.
Combined with her young age, by divine standards at least, she’s never been in a serious fight.
She tastes her own blood for the first time when her nose breaks after her head has been pushed through a mountain, and again when contact with a fist knocks out her front teeth.
<I thurrender.> she mumbles, unable to grow back her teeth fast enough to surrender properly. The flaming halo permanently hovering above her head fades away when Enyo lifts her by grabbing her by the head and floating into the sky.
<Say. It.>
<Thay what? You won?> Tyche asks, unsure what her enemy wants from her, then she screams when Enyo starts applying pressure to her skull.
<Don’t you, ehm, don’t you think it’s enough?> Hermes asks the war goddess.
<Say. It.>
<What thould I thay? Thop hurting me, pleathe!> Tyche says, now in tears and terrified.
<Say. I. Strong. Er.> Enyo demands; the effort needed to avoid unleashing her full power when saying more than a single word is making her angry, which in turn increases the pressure to Tyche’s skull. The young goddess, however, is too terrified to be able to say a word.
<What are you doing? She’s more useful to us alive. Nobody questions you’re stronger than her, let’s just move to next phase!> Hermes tries to reason with her.
When Enyo doesn’t back down, he has to seriously consider the possibility of fighting her.
<’scuse me.> someone interrupts, tapping Enyo’s shoulder.
The war goddess turns at tremendous speed, and her punch should connect with anyone who isn’t Hermes. But it’s not the god of velocity that effortlessly evade her attack.
<Would you mind stop beating my wife and stuff?> Dionysus asks, then burps.
<DIE!!!> Enyo screams to his face, this time unleashing her War Cry: a massive sound wave hits Dionysus directly. If she did this in the castle she would’ve atomized the entire complex.
All it does is mess up his hair.
<No, seriously, just stop. I don’t want to get nasty.> he says.
<Come on, dude, you don’t seriously want to fight her. You’re not in her weight class.> Hermes reminds him. Naturally Enyo doesn’t miss the opportunity to let Tyche go to fly towards Dionysus.
<I would agree, but…> Dionysus replies, sidestepping the attack; his knee hits her chin with enough force to throw her out of the atmosphere.
<…you’ve caught me half sober today. Big mistake.> he says, cracking his knuckles.
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