Hector smacked the alarm clock to turn it off and pushed Jasmine to gain a temporary respite from her snuggling. Staring at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, he found himself wondering why he woke so early every day. He could set his alarm for an hour later and it wouldn’t cause any problems. He was leaving his job, after all.
There had been a brief conversation with the chief operating officer the previous day where he had been promised a significant raise if he agreed to stay on another year. Hector’s assertion that he didn’t want more money had been waved away with a ‘wait until you see the compensation package’. Paradoxically, their effort to convince him to stay only reinforced his desire to leave the company behind. If they were only recognizing his worth as he prepared to leave them, then they had never truly valued him before.
The previous night, he had cultivated for quite a bit before exhausting himself. The results of the cultivation session had been noticeable. Having first hand experience from two separate lives, Hector couldn’t help but conclude that he had some degree of natural talent. Certainly he saw faster results than Volithur. He suppressed a brief glimmer of annoyance at his dream counterpart’s struggles. No matter how much better Hector could have done in similar circumstances, he intimately understood what it was like to lack talent.
With a frown, Hector went over the most recent dream. It had spanned slightly less than forty-eight hours. Less than two full days instead of multiple weeks. He had thought the dreams were growing steadily longer as time passed, so only getting two days of Volithur out of a night’s sleep seemed odd.
At least things were finally looking up for Volithur. He was close to reaching level two, had learned how to properly cultivate in two different methods, and should be able to repeat his performance at the Evergreen Institute in future years. Hector considered the possible outcomes for his dream counterpart. Given Volithur’s lacking talent and the parsimonious distribution of cultivation resources, Hector thought level four was most likely the highest level achievable. There was an outside chance that Volithur would reach level five. Anything beyond that was unrealistic.
And what about Hector himself? He didn’t have a lot of data points to go by, but he had the distinct impression that he was naturally gifted. Would that be enough, though? Could that be enough when he lived in a world with zero sources of concentrated cosmic energy? He knew talent could somewhat make up for a lack of resources, but this would be an extreme case where there were absolutely no resources.
He could only discover the answer to that question by making the attempt. And Hector found himself increasingly resolved to dedicate the remainder of his life to the new frontier that had opened up to him. All the hours he had spent optimizing his work environment, conditioning his body, and strictly regulating his finances now seemed like preparation for his latest venture.
Hector planned to follow the advice of the Marshal to Volithur and raise his soul to the third level before he attempted to improve his body with cosmic energy. He hopped out of bed and went to the dining room table and began to sketch out a table of figures, with soul level as the first column, power rating as the second column, and cost in the third column.
Level Rating Cost 0 1 0 1 2 1 2 4 2 3 8 6 4 16 24 5 32 120 6 64 720 7 128 5,040 8 256 40,320
He stopped at level eight, as the cost had grown to ridiculous levels. Up to level three, the power increase surpassed the cost of getting there. After that, the expense rapidly exceeded the benefit. And the cost didn’t even take into account cosmic energy used for other purposes, such as improving the body and mind or using a kinetic domain to fly or an aura as a personal shield. Past a certain point, it would become almost impossible to advance as a Xian outside of the world of Tian.
Hector ended his impromptu planning session at that point to carry on with his routine. He hit the gym and drove to the hospital, ignoring the voice in his head that suggested he bring some fruit just in case his dad changed his mind about absorbing life energy. He didn’t want to risk another argument… or worse.
He slipped past the doctor who was always trying to have a conversation about hospice care, then entered the room to find his dad staring at a television program about the worldwide dreaming phenomenon. “Hey dad. It’s been a while since you have watched anything.”
“Hi Hector. I had better things to do than watch television.”
“You didn’t get bored of Deronto, did you?”
Terry Thoreaux, once a muscular man and always a stoic and sarcastic person, visibly restrained a surge of emotion. Jaw quivered, the flesh around his eyes firmed, and he took a calming breath. “The dreams ended. Deronto died.”
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, dad.”
His dad shook his head. “There was always talk about the monsters. They killed more humans every year, people said. But no one ever said we had to worry about dragons.”
Hector stared. “A dragon killed Deronto?”
“Not specifically. Deronto was more like collateral damage.” Terry Thoreaux stared at the ceiling. “It was terrifying, Hector. A hideous, eyeless snake large enough to eat mountains slithering through the air like gravity didn’t exist. This wasn’t a creature that a knight could hope to slay. Certainly no one would ever ride on it. It gave off this pressure, like it damaged the world just by being there.
“It devoured natural treasure after natural treasure. The groves of sacred trees were eliminated one after another as we ran and watched in horror. Then we heard that some sort of ancient pact had been invoked, requiring other species of human to come to our aid against a dragon. They said that a Xian known as The Annihilator was coming to deal with our problem.”
Hector jerked in recognition. He knew of the Lord Annihilator by reputation. Supposedly he was the strongest lord of Amarat when ranking them by offensive power.
“I was there when The Annihilator shot a purple bolt of thunder that slammed the dragon to the ground. It caused a mighty earthquake that decimated the trees of the forest. A dark cloud the size of a mountain rose from where the beast fell.
“Once we overcame our horror at the side effects of the attack, we began to cheer. Surely the beast had been slain. Surely it could not still live.” His dad clenched his fists. “It burst free of the dust cloud, alive and filled with rage. The air filled with noxious fumes of chaos that killed everything for miles. In the air, The Annihilator took one look at the returned dragon and fled.
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“Deronto died gasping as the dragon’s miasma caught him. He didn’t have pleasant last thoughts. He was terrified and filled with regret for all the things he hadn’t been able to accomplish.” Terry Thoreaux wiped an errant tear from his cheek. “I have drifted off to sleep twice since then, Hector, and I had no dreams.”
“Dad…”
“It’s fine. That’s just how life is sometimes. I lost your brother in the car crash. Your mother to heart disease. Deronto… to a dragon attack. I don’t want to be the cause of such grief. I love you, son. But it is my time.”
“No,” Hector said, his chest constricting. “Dad, even if you can’t cultivate back to health, you still have weeks, maybe months –”
“I released all the life energy I’d been hoarding back out into the world,” his dad said. “My body has been on the verge of death for days now and my soul has only a single puff left. I don’t want my end to be unpleasant. I’m going to surrender that last bit of life while the person I love most in this world holds my hand. It will be a peaceful passing, Hector. That’s what I want.”
“Dad…”
“I’m sorry, son. I don’t want to add to your pain. But this can’t be stopped and I want my last moments to be peaceful. Can you sit and talk with me for a bit? I have a little time left.”
“Of course.” Hector seized his dad’s hand. “Whatever you want.”
“Is Jen still living with you?”
“I can’t get rid of her.”
“I hope she comes to her senses about becoming a beast kin. How is work?”
Hector shrugged. “I’m quitting. I don’t need the money and I resent their claims on my time.”
“Good for you,” his dad said with a smile. “You were always so task focused. I worried that you would never see that life is more than a checklist of accomplishments.”
“I don’t know if that has changed,” Hector admitted. “I just found a new obsession.”
“The cultivation thing?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like a very Xian thing to do. Meditate for ten years on a mountain top.”
“The process is actually more scientific than spiritual.”
“If there is one thing I learned from Deronto, it is that everything is more spiritual than first appearance would suggest. Look for the deep insights, Hector. I may not be an expert on the Xian way of doing things, but the deep insights span all of reality.”
Hector squeezed his dad’s hand. “What insights do you know?”
“Only one, and I can barely explain the general idea of it. Life is a series of cycles nested upon themselves to enact order on chaos using the passage of time. It sounds like woo woo new age nonsense when I say it out loud. It’s the change of seasons, the beating of a heart, day following night, breathing, eating, procreating… even dying. It’s all cycles. As much as we might seek to delay the coming of winter, there would be no spring without it. Cycles. Beautiful cycles, Hector.”
Tears streamed down Hector’s cheeks as his father’s voice grew weak. The vitality that had propped up Terry Thoreaux the past several days had gone, and with it all hope of delaying the inevitable.
“Do you think other people out there will some day dream of my life? If they do, I hope my experiences make for a meaningful story.” His dad settled back into the hospital bed, squeezing back with the hand Hector had seized tight. “I’m proud of you, Hector. You’re a good man. I hope you have many happy days ahead.”
Energy that Hector could only identify as not being of the cosmic variety surged out of his father’s hand and into him. The monitors attached to his father switched from their incessant background beeping to clarion alarms. Terry Thoreaux’s final exhalation gurgled free.
His father had died.
The passing was as sudden as it was peaceful. A graceful surrender into oblivion in the company of a loved one. The power to go out on his own terms gifted to him by his dream counterpart Deronto, who had been denied the same opportunity due to a dragon attack.
Hector bent forward to rest his forehead on his father’s cooling hand and wept.
The immediate aftermath of his father’s passing became a blur. It took some time for someone to respond to the alarms. Had Hector not needed the time, he would have been irrationally disappointed by the delay. There was a ‘do not resuscitate’ order in his father’s medical file, so there wasn’t a reason for anyone to rush to his bedside.
He had to answer questions, most of which had to be repeated multiple times to get through the haze covering his thoughts. Arrangements had been made with a funeral home weeks ago, and the hospital kindly set the wheels in motion so that Hector wouldn’t have to. Once they took his father’s body away, Hector drove home.
Jen discovered him sitting at the dining table not long after he returned and rushed over. “Is everything okay?”
“Dad died.”
“Oh, Hector, I’m so sorry.”
“He was ready to go.”
She hugged him from behind, resting her head against his temple. “That doesn’t make it any easier for you.”
“Jen?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t become a dog kin.”
“That’s a big ask, Hector.”
“I know.”
She leaned harder into him. “I’m not giving away the dogs I adopted.”
“That’s fine. Jasmine is growing on me.”
“I know Jasmine can be a handful, but she really likes you.”
Hector sighed. “I gave notice at work. Friday is supposed to be my last day. But now I think maybe yesterday might have been my actual last day.”
“I suppose that means you are going to meditate sixteen hours a day now.”
“That sounds like something I would do,” Hector said. “There’s a true insight for you, dad: I’m an obsessive personality.”
Jen released him and rubbed his back. “Do you need to call the funeral home?”
“I think they are going to be calling me. Dad planned the service out and even prepaid. I think they might already have a video presentation prepared. He wanted to reuse a lot of the slide deck from mom’s funeral. I’m not really sure what to do with myself until they need me to make a decision.”
“After your mom passed, everyone put together a collage. It was a nice way to honor the memories of better days. You know where he kept the photo albums, if you’re comfortable going to your dad’s house this soon.”
Hector considered her words for a time. His life had always been so focused. At the moment, there was nothing important that needed doing. Putting together a collage of meaningful pictures from the past that would be briefly glanced over by visitors to the funeral home wouldn’t add much value to the production that funerals were, but the act of going through those captured memories and picking out the meaningful moments might be the important part… or even picking out the not-so-meaningful moments that were remarkable now as mundane reminders of how life once was.
“Let’s drive over to look at the photo albums. And wait until you read the obituary,” Hector said, spirits momentarily lifted. “He actually talked to someone from the newspaper to make sure they would put it in the way he wrote it.”