When Matt rose from the (admittedly absurdly comfortable) stone bed he found a set of clothes waiting for him. Dozens of sets of clothes, actually. By the look of it, every set of clothes Matt had ever owned, or thought about owning, or even looked at. He struggled not to roll his eyes and picked out the same white linen shirt and loose pants he’d worn yesterday, which admittedly were very light to the touch and inherently soothing against his skin.
He set out walking down the formless, wall‑less hall, glancing with some trepidation at the hundred‑foot-high ceiling, the seemingly endless expanse of now morning sun – morning sun? – infused stone. Matt had no idea how the lighting worked in this place, or how Jane had made the space feel so boundless. Maybe she’d spent a lifetime taking classes in interior decorating. Maybe it was micro-LED lights. Maybe she’d invented some new kind of rock.
After a few minutes of wandering, Matt was surprised to see that what he’d assumed, or what he could have sworn had been yesterday, was a long straight hallway leading to the outside balcony suddenly now ended abruptly curving off to the right. Matt hadn’t even noticed the corner from a distance because of the towering white walls’ uniformity, but as he got closer his line of sight began tingling and he stopped a few feet short of colliding with the stone.
“Okay,” he murmured, turning the abruptly non‑optional corner. He advanced down the now slightly narrowing high‑ceilinged hallway, still surrounded by white on every side, following it as it again expanded. In the distance, his eyes fell upon something in the middle of the chamber, rising flat and white the same texture as the floor but covered in splotches of colour.
“Of course,” Matt sighed to himself as he got closer. It was a table of food. A huge table of food, a flat stone bench waist height and about half the length of an Olympic swimming pool covered with every kind of cuisine imaginable: lobsters, crab, fish, roast turkey, bacon‑wrapped chicken, about fifty different types of cheese, a dozen pizzas of varying flavour and thickness, truffle mac and cheese, baguettes, bowls of lentils and pasta, steak, lamb chops, Christmas ham, fried eggs, waffles, pancakes, crepes, ice cream – an entire literal slab of multicoloured ice cream – hotdogs, a variety of hamburgers, potatoes mashed, roasted, fried and baked, a bunch of meat and vegetables on skewers, donuts, chocolates, candy, salad (what kind of sick bastard would sit at a table like this and eat salad?) long loaves of garlic bread, cheesy garlic bread, about twenty cakes, Jello‑o, those little biscuit candies Matt liked with the pandas on them, a pile of extra-crispy bacon as high as his leg, berries, hot toast, hashbrowns, ramen, fried rice, pad Thai, sushi and Indian, an entire circle of different curries. Matt struggled not to roll his eyes.
“I know you didn’t cook this!” he called out into the white nothingness all around him, “God or no god!” Nevertheless, Matt was nothing if practical and a firm believer in the old saying about gift horses and mouths, so he sat down at one of the long stone benches in front of the table, which of course had on top of it the softest and most comfortable cushions he’d ever sat on. He ate in silence, heaping a little bit of this and that and everything in turn on a white porcelain plate until he was full to bursting, though still only having tried maybe a quarter of the food. Matt got up, grumbling about needing to use the restroom, only to find that off to the side of the table down a narrower white alleyway was an outhouse (in‑house?) with the most luxurious toilet imaginable. The seat heated to the perfect temperature when he sat down, it sprayed warm water and hot air when he finished, and everything washed away in a soundless, stainless flush. Overkill, Matt scowled, walking away without looking backwards, but it was clear complaining wasn’t going to do much.
He continued on past the table and down the huge white corridor, which after another minute or two turned ninety degrees to the left again, and this time Matt found himself staring at a pen full of golden retriever puppies.
“This is absurd-” he began, but the puppies just continued whimpering, oblivious to his indignation, and though they had food and water Matt with a defeated sigh had little choice but to climb into the pen and let the warm fluffballs scurry all over him, pawing and licking passionately at his face.
“Hey,” he laughed, as the baby dogs continued to swarm, “Come on. Come on. Hey, come on, ha-ha, oh God that’s so tickly, oh God that’s my ear-”
Matt didn’t know how long it had been by the time he clamoured free from the puppy pit, staggering forward in a stumble, his clothes a mess, covered in golden dog hair and swaying like he was drunk. It was difficult for that much cuteness and affection not to overwhelm the human mind.
“I see what you’re trying to do!” he shouted, and again Matt just assumed Jane by virtue of having created everything within a thousand nautical miles could hear him, “It’s not working!”
It was working a little bit, Matt admitted internally. He rounded the next corner, again to the left. This time he came face to face with a saddle‑mounted Triceratops. Matt sighed and leant his hand up against the wall, staring at the very calm and docile dinosaur. For crying out loud.
The stretch of hallway went on for what felt like several kilometres, and Matt’s dinosaur took some time with its steady plodding to carry him all the way to the end. On two or three occasions Matt kicked his heels in and brought the beast up to a reasonable canter, but it felt a bit mean making it put in the extra effort when they were only really charging at empty walls.
“Whoa Hildy,” he soothed, pulling on the reins of the Triceratops, as they approached the next corner, “Whoa, easy girl.” Matt swung his leg around, sliding off her back, careful not catch his loose pants on his companion’s bony frill. “You stay there. Who’s a good girl?” He scratched underneath the dinosaur’s chin, used the reins to turn it away and slapped it on the hindquarters to send it plodding back to where it had started. Not that this was probably necessary – Jane would doubtless ensure no harm came to the beast – but Matt was a well‑bred, respectable dinosaur owner. Good people put away their toys.
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Matt rounded the final corner to find, finally, the halls of the cathedral opening up into the titanic white doorway, and to see Jane standing out on the curved balcony, her back to him and the hall. Her arms were bare, like yesterday, though the fabric she had wrapped around her was a slightly darker shade of white, if that was possible, and maybe a touch more formal.
“Did you enjoy your morning?” Jane asked, looking over her shoulder to fix him with a smug smile as he strode the last stretch of hallway. Matt stepped through the enormous rectangular gateway onto the terrace, struggling once more not to be blown away by the sight of the sprawling paradise.
“I feel a bit condescended to,” he managed to scowl, eventually tearing his eyes away.
Jane fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Don’t,” she warned, “I’m sick of fighting.”
“I’m not trying to start anything.”
“And yet you always seem to.”
“It takes two to tango,” said Matt, but he held up his hands in a gesture of conciliation, “I was just saying. I don’t know if I should be offended that that’s what you think I’d enjoy.”
“But did you enjoy it?” asked Jane, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh immensely,” he answered without a trace of a lie, “I just, I’m a little sad I’m so predictable.”
Jane smiled, but the expression slowly faded. The two stood there in silence.
“I’m just trying to show you that you can be happy,” she mumbled. Matt stepped forward and took her hand.
“I am happy. I’m with you. I don’t need all this.”
“But why not have it, if you want it?”
“It’s not my happiness I’m concerned about,” he said, “Truly. It’s everyone else’s. I’m just worried about what will happen when you start bringing other people in.”
“I don’t have to,” Jane said quietly, “If you wanted. It could just be us.”
“What about my Mom and Dad though? Jonas and Sarah? I want to see them again. Your Dad. Don’t you want to see him?”
“Of course,” Jane replied, “I can bring them over. They can come.”
“But they’re going to have people they can’t stand living without either. Friends, who have families, who have… you know? Endless. Forever. Even if they don’t, are we going to keep them from ever meeting anyone? Is Sarah going to be the only twelve-year-old in the world?”
Jane was silent. Matt pressed on.
“It’s this endless chain,” he continued, “Humanity. And not every piece links to every other, but ultimately we’re all bound. It’s all or nothing. Or you’re hurting both those coming and those left behind.”
Jane rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I don’t understand why this has to be so difficult,” she muttered, “I’m not trying to do anything wrong.”
“I know you are. But something like this-” he gestured out across the verdant, shining landscape, “‑needs more than just good intentions. You’re upending people’s worlds.”
“So it might not be perfect,” Jane admitted, “In every way, in every facet. But shouldn’t we not let perfection be the enemy of good?”
“Shouldn’t we not destroy good in pursuit of better?”
“You are infuriating,” she snapped, “You talk to me like I’m a baby, like I’m an idiot-”
“I talk to you like you’re a person,” Matt replied, refusing to be baited, staring at Jane head on, “Like you’re capable of thinking through the things you’re doing and changing your point of view.”
“I’m not moving on this,” Jane told him, “I am going to turn wrongs to right. I’m going to help people. Even-” her voice rose to pre-empt Matt, “-the ones that don’t want it.”
“Including me?” he said.
“What?” scoffed Jane, turning back as the sunrise over her kingdom, “You don’t want paradise?”
“No,” Matt answered quietly, “I want to leave.”
*****
“I want to leave,” Matt repeated.
Jane’s heart stopped beating.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“You want… you want to leave?!” Suddenly Jane turned on him, her dress spinning, the balustrade cracking where her hand clenched into the stone. “Is this not good enough for you?! Is all of this not good enough for you, am I not good enough for you?!”
“That isn’t it.”
“What more do you want?!” she cried, “What more do you need, what possible, imaginable thing do you have here that I cannot give you?! How much possibly better could it get somewhere else?!”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then what do you want?!”
“I want you to let go.”
Jane stared at him, her chest rising and falling, her breathing heavy, feeling like her eyes were going to burst from of her skull and bore through Matt’s head.
“Let go.”
“Yes. Let go of this.” He stook a step forward and took her the hand. “Come back with me to the real world.”
“The real-?!” Jane spluttered, eyes wide and incredulous, and she spun, tearing free from his grasp, gesturing at the land she had created, the paradise, “The real world?! Is this not real?! Is this not real enough-!”
“This is a fantasy!” Matt cried, shouting over the top of her, “A make‑believe realm where nothing you don’t want ever happens, and nothing is ever outside your control!”
“I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU!”
“I never asked you to,” Matt replied quietly. The way he stood there, his face blank and unemotional, made Jane want to rip apart the very fabric of the sky.
“Give me one good reason,” she demanded, finger shaking as she pointed at him, “One good reason why you should go, and I’ll let you.”
“Because I should be able to.”
“THAT’S NOT A REASON!” she roared, and suddenly the sunset sky spun thick with choking rainclouds, lightning thundering down and cracking across the land. Matt flinched, but he didn’t recoil – only stared at her with that blank, unrelenting, infuriating stare, hands clasped quietly in front of him. Jane wanted to strangle him.
“FINE!” she shouted, “FINE! YOU DON’T NEED MY HELP, YOU DON’T NEED ME, GO BE BY YOURSELF! GO BE ON YOUR OWN, SEE HOW FAR YOU GET WITHOUT MY PROTECTION, YOU’LL SEE!” And with a wordless roar she swung down her fist and the balcony shattered into a million pieces, sending Matt plummeting downwards with a cry, thousands of feet towards darkened ground below. The world swept grey and storming as she glared, leering as he tumbled through the lightning-stricken sky, and it was only at the last moment, in her final, barest shred of mercy, that she wrenched her hand up and cut the impact before he hit. She watched with Divine eyes and sneered with Divine lips as far beneath her Matt struggled to his feet, shivering against the howling wind and driving rain, and her words carried down atop the roaring tempest.
“Go then,” she bellowed, “Leave if you can! See what doing everything yourself gets you, see how your precious freedom tastes!” She spat, and a flash of lightning split the heavens. “And don’t bother trying to fly! Don’t come to me for anything! I’m done with you, we’re over, you’ll get nothing from me!”
Jane glared down from the summit of Olympus.
“Walk on your own damn feet.”