The aurora washed over starlit skies, and Matt marched on atop the snowfall, singing tunelessly as he walked. Scraps, near full-grown, nipped at his heels, and Matt turned the song towards him, singing senseless, nothing tunes of light and life and love. Around them snowflakes fell in a gentle dusting, the muscles in Matt’s legs burning as they ascended the mountain further and further up, heading to nowhere within understanding, simply still searching for somewhere to go.
“Oh-ho my love… oh-ho my… silver moons and handkerchiefs… and little puppy dog tails…”
The words sang gently out, swirling up to meet the aurora, a normal one, not a magical one, flickering lines of green and blue. It was beautiful, again, Matt marvelled. The light, the being, the experience. The pinch in his lungs, the aching cold. He was alive, he had a song, and he had chosen to be here. Tomorrow, he might choose to come back down. Or chase dreams of freedom hidden within the clouds.
His boots crunched, the snow not much more than an inch or so thick. They were still relatively low down. Higher, well, and he might have to hope this was one of those places Jane had built a colony. Or he might have to hunt a deer, find some furs.
Possibilities.
“Matt.”
Matt stopped, turned his head, swearing he could have heard his name whispered in the wind. He glanced around, seeing only fir trees, a stony trail, snow‑dusted boulders. He frowned, wondering if hallucinations signalled the onset of frostbite.
“Was that you?” he asked, glancing down at the dog.
“It was me.”
Matt spun around. And suddenly, he was in the white room again, staring at Jane, clad shining in white.
Matt looked back over his shoulder. The mountain had entirely vanished, like it had never even been there. His face puckered in annoyance.
“Was I getting close?” he asked, though more light-hearted than irritation. At his feet Scraps barked, growling at the sudden change in their surroundings from mountainside to eternal hall.
Jane sniffed. Her eyes were red, but not the crimson kind. “Not even a little,” she murmured.
“Darn.” Matt glanced down at Scraps, then back at her. “Thanks for bringing the dog.”
“He seems to like you.”
“He goddamn better,” Matt said, glaring down at the black and white puppy, who met his gaze and cocked its head.
They were silent for a moment.
“Can we talk?” Jane whispered.
“I never closed the door on that,” Matt replied.
“You walked a long way away.”
“From my girlfriend who has no concept of distance.”
Jane hiccupped. “So we’re still dating?”
“I am if you are,” he said, “Again, it’s just been me and the dog.”
Jane let out a small, short laugh. The sound of it faded, still against the whiteness. Jane sniffed. Matt’s features softened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, “I’m seeing things, I’m feeling things, I don’t want to… it’s all too much.” She shuddered and closed her eyes, and when she opened them Matt saw that they were flashing through colours, one after the other, over and over and round.
“I feel so alone,” Jane whispered, “I’m so many things to so many people. Why do I feel so alone?” And she sobbed as she said it, really, truly crying, the first time Matt had ever seen her do so. Instinctively, he moved towards her. Without thinking, he folded her in his arms.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, cradling her soft warm head, the goddess, “It’s okay.” For a moment they just stood there, the weight of Jane’s soul leaning into him, her limbs heavy and helpless. Matt moved his hands to her shoulders and forced them apart, held her upright, looking into her flickering eyes.
“Stop,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“You can. You have to. It’s okay if you can’t do it. It’s okay for it to be too much.”
Stolen story; please report.
“That’s the thing though,” Jane mumbled, and her eyes continued to churn with colours as fresh tears continued to leak from the corners, “I can do it. I know I can do it. If I let myself, if I fall back, but I… I can feel it Matt. It’s never going to stop. It’s never going to be enough. I want to help them, stop their pain, but the more I control…” She trailed off into a sob. “It’s too late. I’m too deep. I’m going to become God. For all of them, for everything. And I will force this world to be perfect. And I will force them all to be happy. It feels so wrong.”
She stared at him, her eyes trailing starlight. “Please. You can help me. I… I can give you my powers. You can be a god too. We can do this together. Always. I want to be with you. I want us to be happy.”
“Then come with me,” Matt murmured.
“Where?”
“Out. Away from here. Away from this world.”
“Matt.” Jane’s face was pained. “In here you won’t be hurt. Nothing will ever harm you.”
“And I’ll never be harmed,” Matt said quietly, “Never know loss, never know pain, never feel sad. Never feel the weight of failure and know I have to do better. I’ll be a god, but I’ll never be a better person – just stuck, divinely forever, in this beautiful snow‑globe. And you’ll be stuck with me, never failing. Never changing. Never growing.”
“Would that be so bad?” she whispered.
“It would feel good,” he answered truthfully, “It would be wrong.”
For a few moments Jane said nothing. Then she sniffed, and an edge of hardness crept back into her voice.
“I could stop you,” she murmured, “I could stop you leaving. I could keep you here, forever, with me, and we’ll never be alone or apart.”
“If you do that,” Matt told her, “I’ll leave you.”
Jane’s shoulders slumped and she stared at him with such pain as though he had just driven a knife into her heart.
“What?”
“I’ll leave you,” Matt repeated, “Even if you try to stop me physically. I will run away from you, with my body and my soul, for the rest of my days, until all the stars go out.”
Jane’s throat clenched. She could barely squeeze out words.
“But why?”
“Because it’s the only thing I can do,” Matt said, and though he spoke the words kindly he did not flinch from them, nor the pain that uttering them caused. “Look around,” he said to her gently, “Look at me. You are so incredibly powerful. Beyond anything I can ever accomplish. Beyond anything I can dream. So what can I do? There is nothing I can do to stop you. Not doing this, not doing anything, literally nothing I can do or say or offer that you can’t simply brush aside. You’re a god,” he urged, “And I’m a man. And I can tell that all this-” he waved his arm around at the cavernous chamber, at the waiting door to the impossible world, “-is wrong. Worse, it’s hurting you. Destroying who you really are. Who you might be.”
“So I have nothing left to give,” he told her, “No way to fight, no card to play. Save one. Only one. I can leave, and I can deprive you of the only thing I can offer, my heart, my care, my love. And you can stop me. That’s the thing, you know, I understand it; you can stop me. You can reach into my mind and strip away my free will. And you can force me to love you, and never leave, and be with you forever more. And I’ll never know it’s done.”
He fell silent for a moment and stared up at her. “But you will.”
Jane set out a wretched sob, her shoulders shaking. “Please. Please.” And she twitched towards him, her hands reaching out, only to stop, her face a tapestry of loneliness and pain.
But Matt was not there to hurt her. And in an instant he stepped forward and wrapped Jane in his arms, her eyes drowning in colours and tears.
“Listen to me. Listen,” he begged her, “I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t have to. But you cannot be a god.” His voice wavered, and he averted his gaze. “No; you can. But you shouldn’t. Because a god’s not who I fell in love with. And being a god won’t make you happy. Being a god won’t save mankind.”
“But…” Jane hiccupped, “Without me…”
“The world will keep turning.” Matt leaned back and gently, cupping her tear‑stained chin, took Jane’s face between his hands. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he said softly, “As I walked, as I strayed. About God and gods and humanity and purpose. Wondering what I was doing; wondering ultimately what was the point of it all. Whether I should just accept unnatural happiness and try and embrace it, whether I’m being a fool to cling to hope. To this idea that what matters as a person are your choices.”
Matt gazed out as the white walls slid down around them, revealing the glowing, windswept land. “Maybe there was a God once,” he said quietly, “Maybe there was some being that created the universe, created our world. Maybe they guided our every step, truly wanted best for us, like parents raising a child. But I think, I think I’ve realised now, if there was a god, then they released us. Because they realised they were doing wrong. Because they realised that loving something isn’t the same as controlling it – that the greatest gift they could ever give mankind was the power to choose.”
They stood atop a palace of white impossibility, all walls crumbled away, hands in hands, gazing into each other’s eyes, as lights danced across the heavens.
“Maybe,” said Matt, “That’s what the Aurora gave us. Maybe that’s why it came. Because we’re growing up now. And God wanted to give us potential. They wanted to give us a choice.”
And suddenly Jane’s heart surged, and she felt the universe calling, loud and deep within her very bones. Her eyes filled with every colour between the stars and suddenly when she looked up the sky danced not just with aurora but a trillion lines of light and life unimaginable, shining bright and intertwined. They sung to her, their spinning lives – every sound, a melody. And beneath them hummed the maw – that yawning gaping vortex, which from the end of time to the beginning threatened to swallow all existence, without malice, without knowing, a consequence, a cavern’s heart. And it was her choice now, she felt it. Her head on which the universe swayed, poised to tip, poised to sing forever into radiance, or collapse eternal into the dark.
And Jane knew what she had to do.
On an impossible world, a paradise of her own creation, where sunlit buildings scraped the heavens and the world hummed and gleamed with nature, she let go of Matt’s hands and wrapped her arms around him, pulling close the man she loved so much, and kissed him long and soft and deep. They stayed like this, like it would last forever.
Then she let go of his arms and they parted. Matt gazed at her with confused eyes.
And Jane disappeared into nothingness.