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“Somehow, I thought there would be more for a god to do.”
“Why husband, you always seem busy enough,” Petra replied.
“Those are my own projects, and I know I spend more time than you would prefer on them. But I presumed the position of being a god came with its own duties and requirements. Thus far, I have found none.”
“Husband, we are both Eternals – minor gods as such things go. We know there are at least two tiers above us. I spent ten thousand years and more as an Immortal. Outside of the chains of my creation, I was never tasked with anything. Art thou disappointed?” She’d taken to wearing what I called her Ultimate Lady from The Next Farm Over appearance most of the time we were together. She appeared as a dusky, light brown-skinned young lady with shoulder length medium brown hair, just barely into the first flush of maturity and shapely to the point where she drew eyes from all the men, even now at the end of her pregnancy with our first child. Petra’s skin glowed with health, her hair shone with golden highlights in the soft brown. Nothing exaggerated or fancy – her breasts and buttocks were if anything slightly smaller than average, her parts just all fit together perfectly. Her hairstyle was dead simple – straight with just a hint of wave. She never wore complex fashions or glaringly sexual clothes or anything that clung too tightly, just simple and loose, hinting at the lush curves beneath. Nor was she particularly thin. Maybe by some perverse standards she might even be a little overweight. She almost never used cosmetics of any sort. But most women of King Edvard Haraldsson’s court hated her for the way she drew male eyes despite everything they did to keep attention centered on themselves. They’d never understand what Petra had spent ten thousand years learning – men liked simple and elegant. These days, Petra was happy and content, and that amplified attraction even more.
“Nay, O Lady of My Heart, I am not disappointed, but happily surprised. The fact it is a happy surprise does not alter the fact it is a surprise. Why does the universe allow us to exist, when it does not require our assistance? Why are we thus privileged? There must be some purpose to allowing us this power.”
“Why question thy good fortune, husband?”
“I am ultsi, milady, by habit if not by fact. We are seekers after knowledge, which requires us to be askers of questions, and I’m not explaining myself clearly, so let’s approach it from another direction. Have you ever seen a living thing simply exist?”
“Trees. Grass.”
“Trees and grass do not simply exist. They’re in competition for soil and sunlight and water. All the other trees and blades of grass want these same things, and there’s only so much to go around. Where are our competitors?”
“Other gods.”
“The niche seems suspiciously empty. One of the rules is populations expand to make full use of resources. Doesn’t it seem that with so much energy available, there would be more and more beings clamoring to take it for their own survival? Yet it seems that there’s plenty there for all, and there’s a disturbing next question.”
“I would rather not be disturbed at present, husband, but it does seem that the number of gods is increasing.”
I let the next question lie for now. “And our rivals?”
“Kiltig and Klikitit would fit that description.”
She had a valid point. Perhaps I came from a place so energy-starved that we’d been forced to learn to make more efficient use – and now suddenly I’d been given access to a place where all the energy you could want was there for the taking, and my competitors simply had less ability to take advantage of that energy? But resource rich environments served as a beacon for organisms from less fecund locales. Aescalon was so energy rich its divinities never learned skills that even the weakest martsi and natsi – ordinary humans with the weakest level of mind power – learned as a matter of course. “Not the same thing, milady. Those are personal animosities. Given the energy rich environment of Aescalon and its fountain of plentiful energy, there should be so many gods clamoring to partake that there is none to spare. I can think of two possible reasons why this is not the case, but I’m unable at the present to test either hypothesis.”
“What are those possibilities?”
“First, that the amount of energy has seen a recent increase, although ‘recent’ in this case is in terms of natural time, and I’ve insufficient data on the length of divine generations. The second is that there was a population collapse – something caused the number of divinities to drop – and we’re still building back up to equilibrium. In either case, resources would seem to be plentiful until the new population increased to fill the niche.”
“And how long will it take us to fill this ‘niche’, husband?”
“Thousands of years, perhaps tens of thousands.”
“Then does it not seem like thy worry is premature? We shall have plentiful time to solve it.”
“A true observation my love, and yet questions of this nature are better answered sooner than late. A full answer would point us to a method of securing needed sustenance for ourselves and our descendants when the resources become strained, and such procurement is much simpler when the resources are easily acquired.”
“I have faith in your abilities, milord. In ten thousand years, I have encountered none with so restless a mind.”
“But as resources become strained, the quality of competition will necessarily increase as well.”
“I thought I asked you not disturb my contented state, milord?”
It wasn’t worth the argument at this point. I changed the subject, “How long until you believe yourself ready to give birth, milady?” But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to keep pursuing answers. Nor did Petra expect me to – she knew I was ultsi to the core. She just didn’t want to be disturbed at the moment. I hadn’t even touched upon the most disquieting notion of all: predators. Every ecosystem has predators, and they almost always strike without warning, when they think you’re most vulnerable.
Copyright 2020 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.
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