The Great Task
“But I don’t want to be a God!!
Thoron had just finished his graduation speech to the young ones when the nerve-grating, high-pitched screech of one particular spawnling cut through the din of hundreds of youthful voices echoing around the Great Hall of The Universal All and stabbed into Thoron’s ears like a ten inch spike. He cringed inwardly and looked down at the dais behind which he stood.
Thoron knew the owner of that voice; had known that it would say what it had just said, in just the way it had said it, before he’d even begun the speech that caused the unseemly hubbub. He looked up. A slight frown of displeasure purposely formed on his broad brow. The spawnlings knew that look well and began to grow quiet. The silence rippled out from those in the front rows until the entire Great Hall was still again.
His frown cleared as he surveyed them calmly and with pride in their ability, after six years of his tutelage, to regain their new-found maturity and master their excitement so quickly. He cast his mind back over the speech he'd just given…..
“Today, after six long years of learning, you will graduate from The Academy of The Universal All,” his enunciation made every spawnling acutely aware of the capital letters in his words. He went on. “You will each be assigned a task that you must take full responsibility for completing each day. You will perform your tasks with diligence until you are Called.”
“Some of you will be Called very soon, others of you will not be Called for quite some time; and some may never be Called at all,” his tone of voice showed his sorrow at that thought. Thoron was acutely aware of the fact that he, himself, had never been Called. Instead he had been given the task of preparing the spawnlings for their Call. It was richly rewarding work and he was mostly very content with his lot in life. It was only at moments like this, the graduation of the new crop of spawnlings, that he felt a slight loss at not ever being Called himself.
“When you are Called,” he went on, “you will enter the Transformation Centre where you will be prepared for transfer to the body of one of the native beings on the planet below. You will have full memory of here and of everything else about here, including the knowledge of good and evil.
Some of the more sensitive of you will retain a strong feeling that you are destined for great things, but you’ll not know exactly what those things are or even be certain that those feelings are valid.”
“The native, they refer to themselves as ‘human,’ whose body you will inhabit, might, as is their custom, refer to you as his soul,” he continued. “That will not be a totally inaccurate term since it will indeed be your task to guide that person so that he makes as much of his life as he possibly may. Some of them will be very easy to guide; others will give you great difficulty.”
Thoron noted the respectful quiet of the Hall as the spawnlings paid rapt attention to his every word. All of this, although it was not entirely new to them, would take some time to sink in. Most of the expressions on their faces showed eager interest in his words. A few, happily a very small few, seemed upset at what they were hearing. He understood that trepidation; he’d felt it himself at his own graduation. He wondered briefly if it was that hesitancy on his part, when he'd heard similar words from his own instructor, that had destined him to his present work instead of being Called.
He put these thoughts aside for his later attention and let his calm voice wash out over the assembled new graduates. “You and your human will become one. You will share the Life Force and be entirely dependent upon each other. What he learns, you will learn; what he sees and does, you will see and do. You will be one. You will share all memories, feel all pain and joy as one being. The only thing that you will not share is physical death.” A startled murmur passed through the crowd at that news.
Choosing his words carefully, Thoron watched his audience closely as he spoke. “When he dies, you will separate from his body. At that time he will be so much a part of you, and you of him, that the oneness of you will continue. You – the ‘you’ of you and he combined, will return here to study and prepare yourself for your Great Task. You may study what you wish for as long as you wish. You will find yourself imbued with much enhanced learning abilities. What you just spent six years learning will be learned in a few seconds when you return. And you will never forget even one tiny part of it. It is yours forever. Truly forever. For that will be your new life span.”
The murmuring grew and swelled as Thoron took on a relaxed, waiting posture. In a few moments it subsided and he continued his speech. “When you are satisfied that you have all the knowledge and information about everything that you wish to have knowledge of, you will be given a Gift of non matter/non-space/non-time. It will be your task to create a universe within that Gift.” You will, in all respects, be a God. The God of your own universe.
He took a deep breath. “You will discover how well you were able to guide your human person while below for much of his character will have become yours. This will influence the kind of use you make of your Gift – your universe – as its God.”
“Go now to your tasks with my blessings. May you each receive your Call soon.”
Thoron, mentally coming back to the present, looked on as the assembly, now vocal and noisy, began to swirl in eddies of youthful energy, and disperse. The strident voice that he immediately recognized broke across the hubbub loudly, “But I don’t want to be a God!!
Thoron's deep set eyes calmly searched the youthful faces for the owner of that voice, his face betraying nothing of his inner angst and turmoil. Seeing him at last, he caught his eye and signalled him to come forward. The spawnling, not appearing happy at this summons, obeyed nevertheless and once within earshot was told to come to Thoron’s garden later that day.
Thoron noted his obvious reluctance and wondered, not for the first time, at how different this young spawnling, Nokla, was from the average youth. He intended to have quite a talk with this young one.
Quite a talk indeed!
(to be continued) .