Speaking with a higher power
Totally random and completely relevant statement: Naming is hard.
–Beginning Basic Narration of Recording 12–
“Why are you even recording?” the pyramid asks right as the recorder sputters back to life. “Also, apologies for…influencing it.”
“It was already broken because of her,” Lapadj says as he points to Sarela.
The gesture is recognized and responded to by the Szarehan; her orange form ignites in a minor flurry and then quiets down a moment later. Lapadj, standing, shakes his head at her. She scoffs.
“As for your question, he is on a mission to learn the art of Human programming,” Sarela, sounding mildly tired, explains to the being in the middle of the dull Human room.
“He is a cloaked Empirian, yes?” the pyramid confirms. “Kharatzara, yes?”
“Aye to both,” Lapadj answers. “I am Lapadj and this is Sarela.”
“I am-“ It stops abruptly. The pyramid dulls to a solid gray. “I have no idea.”
The Szarehan laughs softly. An anxious and mildly hysterical cackle that almost reveals her inner emotions. As they are of no importance, there will be no attempts to discern and analyze them. Unlike Sarela, Lapadj stares emptily at the pyramid positioned on the white carpet.
“Are you the Goddess of Programming?” Lapadj inquires slowly and carefully. Voice clearly bordering on near insanity. Not madness, just mere insanity.
“Aye, I know that,” the Goddess chides. “The name, however…I do not know what I should call myself. I need a name, now that I have been called back into full consciousness. Any suggestions?” The divine being in the form of a mundane object bounces on the floor, as if she is looking at both present Empirians. She makes a humming noise.
“What do you mean by ‘full consciousness?’” Lapadj asks, ignoring the God’s plea for a name.
“It has been so long since I have been relevant,” she explains. “Actually, I am not sure if I have ever been really relevant. What this means is that I sort of faded into the background for…some great span of time. I cannot give you an exact time span, but it is long. I have been disconnected and all that. Now I am back and I have you to thank for that. Back without a name, though, but we cannot always be satisfied.”
“That is a not very Empirian sentiment, but you are a God,” Lapadj murmurs.
“A mildly useless God that has faded like an echo,” Sarela whispers to herself. “Vehk. The name–you could take something inspired from Mechanicha or Hallihanet culture.”
She laughs at that suggestion. “I do not think those races of Tyra Kolaq’blegae ever cared for me. Especially the former. I may not recall much but I know that the Mechanicha detest programming and anything having to do with it. They are beyond such things and would like to keep themselves that way. Which makes perfect sense, why would they want to regress to being lesser than a full being with a pure Kharat? I have no idea. They are special so why would they want to be associated with lesser robots that are made using my art.” She sighs mournfully. “I am really not relevant.”
“You are relevant to us now,” Lapadj states firmly, picking the God off of the ground. “I called you for a reason. I need your advice on matters relating to what you preside over.”
“He really does,” Sarela says, sparking her make-shift fingers together in a sign of affirmation.
“Aye! Aye! You did call me,” she recalls, turning a darker purple color. “What was that thing you offered me when you did summon me here? A grapefruit? Would that be a suitable name?”
A sigh comes from Lapadj’s cloaked mouth at the lack of focus in the conversation.
“I doubt it,” Sarela says. “It is an organic plant originating from Earth. Apparently ‘healthy’–whatever that means in the Human common.”
“You may doubt, but I believe,” the Goddess says. “I will take it as a name for now. Until we figure out something better. Grapefruit. Grapefruit. I like the sound of it.”
The Szarehan that is betraying nothing of her inner thoughts or emotions turns to Lapadj. He is still cloaked as the pasty Human with dark hair. They share a look of mild incredulity that is expressed only by the blankness and silence of their beings.
“The Goddess believes, Lapadj,” Sarela says drolly. “She believes.”
“I really do,” the Goddess temporarily going under the name ‘Grapefruit’ affirms.
“Do you believe, Lapadj?” Sarela snarkily asks.
“I need a moment,” the Kharatzara replies and then wanders out of the frame.
Looking at the recorder, Sarela states to both the viewers and the Goddess: “Give us a moment.”
–Ending Basic Narration of Recording 12–
I’m getting there, okay? I set out to write something and then other stuff happens and then I write more and things get longer. Story of my writing life. Anyway:
TO BE CONTINUED