The Path of the Four

The Chief Executive Officer of the Carne-Tischler Corporation put his hands down. His head described a slow, painful half-revolution as he turned and looked at the still, silent figure of Brother Chaos.

Brantley got out of his chair and took two big steps at Brother Chaos. He gestured at the masked figure, and looked at the others.

“And him? This freak, this alien? Why did he involve himself? Why does he care?”

“It has to do with history,” Ariana said. “Fourteen billions years ago the entity that calls itself Brother Chaos created two massive explosions of dust and various gases, two trillion light years from each other. He also created a series of hyper-spatial tunnels connecting the two locations, tunnels numbering in the thousands.”

“Ha!” Brantley trotted back to his desk, hopped up, and took a seat on the top of it. “That’s saying that my dear colleague and associate, Akira here--”

“It means the spaceship version of the Drive never created the Corridors,” Yamato interrupted. “It just opened up Corridors that already existed.”

Brantley laughed again and slapped his forehead. “Wait a second, Miss Orlando! ‘Two massive explosions of dust and various gases’? Are you saying this outer space, Halloween freak show--” He pointed at Brother Chaos. “--Is God? Do you expect me to believe that?”

“I didn’t saying anything about creating the universe,” Ariana said. “And all I mentioned were those two massive explosions of dust and gas. You’re right, of course. They did, at last, become Earth and Zah-Gre. But as far as who put their imprint on the two planets. Well, who has lived there, of course. And I’ve always believed God has played a part, and continues to do so. In some mysterious way. Maybe the best way to think of everything that has happened is that Brother Chaos has been helping God, and now we’re helping Brother Chaos. I don’t know if that’s the whole response to ‘Why?’ but that’s a pretty good one. Eventually, we all want to monitor what we helped to create. Why create in the first place? I don’t know the answer to that one. I don’t think anyone does. I suspect everything would be unbearable if we didn’t have that option. Some create, some shape, some participate in other ways.”

Brantley walked closer to her. Ariana flinched and suppressed the urge to flee into hyperspace. Not yet. There were walls in this man, falling, and she wanted to stay to the end.

“As always, Miss Orlando,” Brantley said. “You take the improbable and fantastic and make it all sound so reasonable, so logical. Why should I doubt you? After all, you’re a scientist and I’m not.” He walked right up to Brother Chaos. Brother Chaos turned his masked head and looked at Brantley. “In other words, I am face to face with my creator.” He stared into the masked face, the mask writing the specter of anonymity across the green left and blue right eye, a text of gamesmanship.

“I said he’s not--”

Brantley interrupted with sharp words and an imperial, dismissing wave. “I know, I know. Not God. You said. Nevertheless, my dear woman, we have the next best thing right here. A principal mover and shaker in the cosmos. And you’re deduction about ‘a pattern of sentient energy’ wasn’t quite correct, was it?”

“Well, no, not quite, but I--”

Brantley interrupted her again.

“Because why would such a phenomena have need of a mask? A mask implies a face.” Brantley had been talking to Ariana, but he kept looking at Brother Chaos.

“Brother Chaos,” Brantley said. “I’m taking your main secret. Whatever power you have, kill me if you have to, but I will see your face--now.”

He snatched off the mask.

His eyes widened.

His mouth fell open.

He fell to his knees and looked up at the true, unmasked face.

Out of the face came a question.

“My dear child. What else do you expect to see?”