Chapter 81

I kept walking alongside him, trying to remain calm in appearance, but my mind was in turmoil. Most of me was screaming that I didn't want this. I didn't want to be close to this madness; I didn't want to be near any schemes to change the world or unearth secrets of the Griid. What I wanted was to win the suit, somewhat for my family, somewhat for my father, but at this point, mostly so I could just keep it, so I could grow into the godlike powers, the heavenly sensory inputs that felt like omnipotence. This disaster with this crazy person was the last thing I wanted.

But that was most of me. There was a part, a part that would come to eat up more and more of my attention over the years, that desperately wanted to unearth the unknown, that was intrigued, inspired even, by Danefer and this lofty statement.

After a few minutes of silence, Danefer said, "You're thinking, conflicted."

I hesitated. What could I say? I said, "This is a lot. I'm not even sure you're really Danefer, that still seems impossible."

The man shrugged, said, "Well, while we walk, why don't I give you something to think about, put a little theory to you."

I returned the shrug, a little defeated. I didn't want to be doing this, to be talking to this man, but what was I going to do? Run? I wasn't raised for unnecessary rudeness, besides the fact that this man seemed to be equipped with an arsenal that could level the whole street we were walking through.

"Alright," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "What's your theory?"

Danefer smiled, his eyes glazing slightly. I didn't like that. He said, "What do you understand the Griid to be?"

I said, "It's, well, it's everything, isn't it? The fabric of reality, that comes from the Oracle."

Danefer said, "The word Griid never existed before the first tower rose, or at least I've found no evidence of it."

I said, "The Griid has always been there."

He said, "Why do you say that?"

"Because that's what the priests preach."

He said, "Yeah, it's... everyone knows that..."

He said, "We're told that the entropy is universal, that man evolved in a world where the natural randomness of the universe meant that most complex systems couldn't function if they weren't biological. We're told that organisms have an innate ability to generate fields that calm this chaos, the entropy, and allow their complex systems—chemical reactions, neurons, muscles—to function, but that outside of a living thing these things are destined to fail because of the unpredictability of the movements of particles."

I said, "Yeah, of course." I wasn't sure where he was going, how mad this was going to sound.

He said, "We're told that the Oracle came to man, long, long before the Fall, a time so long ago that we don't know when it was."

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I said, "They call it the Dark Ages, that in the Dark Ages man had reached the apex of what he could achieve with entropy everywhere, and that when man had achieved what he could, the Oracle came and calmed the entropy, banished it from the whole world, and what followed were centuries of growth and discovery."

Danefer smiled, nodded, said, "Then man sinned in some way, and the Oracle took back the gift."

I said, "Yeah, and that was the Fall. Everything collapsed, and we went back to the Dark Ages, worse even, for a long time."

Danefer was almost mocking as he said, "And then the Oracle decided man had suffered enough, it returned, but was less kind with its gifts, measuring out the Order in Orbs that fell from the heavens, eking Order to us through the towers."

I said, "Because we'd been unworthy of the gift from the time before. We'd used it wrong, angered the Oracle. The Oracle had been too generous and given us more than we were capable of using."

We continued walking, passing into the second sector of the city. Day was fading, and the air grew cooler. Steam engines trundled past, their whistles piercing the evening air. We walked in silence for a while, the noise of the city a backdrop to my racing thoughts. I tried to ponder what Danefer was getting at. I could see he was going to imply there was a lie in what we were told. Dangerous loons always wanted to rewrite reality to a more exciting script. I just couldn't see where he was going. He seemed happy to wait for me to ask a question or draw a conclusion.

"I really don't know where you're going with this," I finally said.

Danefer smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "That's because you've lived your life under assumptions. You believe what the priests tell us, and why shouldn't you? Your father, your servants, teachers, the local baker, and the beggar on the street all believe the same things. The priests have access to the knowledge of the towers, they have access to the Oracle, they're the only ones with access to histories, the real histories, the records of this time and the time before."

"Exactly," I said.

"But they're not the only ones who can access it," he continued. "Griidlords can as well."

I sucked in my breath for a moment, contemplating this. I could see the implication. If he was really Danefer, and if Griidlords really could access the same sacred texts that the priests could, then he might have secret truths that had never been shared. This all hinged on the reality that he was, in fact, Danefer.

"Are you saying the priests are lying?" I asked.

He leaned his head back and chuckled. The chuckle grew and became a cackle. I looked around nervously. Eyes were naturally drawn to me these days, the people's champion, but now more folk were glancing toward us. I was walking in public with a deranged knight, but none of them could see the arsenal beneath his coat.

I waited for his laughter to stop; it was too much. I squirmed with the eyes on me. A guard walked past us, eyeing Danefer, his hand gripping his musket, thinking about doing something. But Danefer was well-dressed; there were worse things in the city than a well-dressed man laughing hysterically. After a while, it subsided. As he started to calm down, I said, "What's so funny?"

He said, "Oh, I've had this conversation with so many people, so many times, and they all jump to that conclusion—that the priests are lying to them. I get it, it makes sense. But when you know the truth, it just makes it all the funnier."

I wanted to slap him. The more he spoke in vague circles, the more that undesirable, curious part of me got a stronger hold on me. "What's funny?" I asked.

He said, "Well... what the priests say are lies... but they're not lying." He giggled a little. It was unnerving to see such a hard man giggle so childishly, but he did it anyway.

I said, "By the Oracle, what are you talking about?"

Danefer stopped walking and turned to face me, his eyes sharp and intense. "The priests believe what they preach. They genuinely think they are protecting humanity, guiding us according to the Oracle's will. But what they don't understand is the true nature of the Oracle and the Griid. They are pawns, just like the rest of us."

"Pawns?" I echoed, feeling a chill run down my spine.

Danefer was about to speak again. It was like deja vu. Joel had been about to lift a veil, tell me what the voice was, and then the knights came. This time was different, but no better. Danefer looked past me, at something beyond me, and his face changed—startled, and then he calmed, looked at me, and said, “Shit.”