Sam sat atop Manga’s back with his legs crossed. The wooly pig was standing in the air over the human capital; from the ground, it simply looked like a yellow dot in the sky—any qualified unidentified-aerial-phenomenon enthusiast would’ve dismissed it as a balloon. From above, the city looked similar to an eye with the golden plaza containing the temples acting as an iris. He wasn’t sure if his familiars had deliberately modified the capital in that manner or if it was simply a coincidence considering the plaza was a massive circle.
“What are you thinking about, Sam?” the Mother asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re not tuning into my thoughts?” he asked. His familiars had never really given him mental privacy before, so it was a bit strange to be asked such a polite question. “I don’t mind if you do.”
“Are you sure?” the Mother asked before raising one of her tentacles. She placed it against Sam’s temple, and a second later, a twinge of electricity was exchanged between the two of them. “Oh, it’s quite crowded in here, isn’t it? It’s like there’s a whole forum in your mind.”
“The Mother is here?” Vercedei asked, its voice echoing within the minds of Sam and his familiars.
“I’m not here for you, Vercedeipoo,” the Mother said. “Which way to Sam’s thoughts?” There was a tingling sensation in Sam’s mind. “Oh, I found them.” Not long after, the octopus removed its tentacle from Sam’s head. The Mother smiled, the octopus’ beak contorting. “I knew you’d be tempted by my suggestion. There’s nothing left for you to see and experience in this dimension.”
What the Mother was saying was true. Sam really didn’t have much—if anything—new to experience after the Mother had blessed—some would say cursed—him with the gift of living trillions of lives. He had even lived multiple times as trees, corals, and sponges. He had spent some lives toiling, some lives relaxing, some lives exploiting others, and some lives being exploited by others. In some of his lifetimes, he had been powerful enough to command the masses, and in other lives, he lived even more pitifully than when he was a talentless named Sam. The passage of time had long since eroded his discontent with his lot in life, and now, he was feeling at peace … and bored, so very bored; however, there wasn’t anything he wanted to do.
“Your technique gave Sam depression,” Vercedei said, shooting the Mother an accusatory glare. “He used to want to do so many things like destroying the world with us: now, he doesn’t even salivate at the thought of eating five-star food; he doesn’t get angry at injustices; and he doesn’t get happy when things go his way. You broke him.”
“That’s not quite right,” the Mother said. “He’s not depressed. Sam is simply older now, and we all know wisdom comes with age.”
“Rather than thinking about what you want to do,” Raindu said, placing a paw on Sam’s cheek, “why don’t you make a list of the things you don’t want to do?”
“Would that help?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head. “I don’t think it will. I don’t want to do anything that goes against my principles.”
“So, you want to walk naked through a burning hot desert?” Raindu asked.
“I’ve done it before,” Sam said. Technically, it was the truth. He had lived life as a lizard more than once, and most animals didn’t wear clothes; they were naked all the time. Sam glanced at the black ferret on his shoulder. “Do you want me to make you some pants?”
“No.”
Sam shrugged. Perhaps higher-dimensional beings didn’t care about modesty. It did seem to be more of a human concept. Reptilians, mantids, and just about every other species didn’t mind nudity. Sam observed the city below with his All-Seeing Gaze, watching the people bustle about. With the Mother’s declaration, a large number of people chose to worship her, leaving gifts and burning bamboo stalks as offerings. He wasn’t sure why bamboo had been chosen as a holy item capable of communicating with the divine, but he suspected it had something to do with how quickly bamboo grew; it wouldn’t disrupt anything if everyone was burning bamboo every day. If the gods, read Sam’s familiars, demanded meat or drink instead, there might’ve been environmental consequences.
“What’s up with the pantheon?” someone waiting on line to enter the Mother’s church asked his friend standing next to him. “Do you think it changes often?”
“How would I know?” the friend asked in return. “All I know is we shouldn’t put our eggs in one basket. Last time, I only worshipped Nwaps, and the Mother replaced them in the lineup. Now, I don’t have a good reputation with any of the gods. This time around, I’m going to worship all of them, so even if one of them ignores my prayer, maybe, the others will listen.”
“What if they think you’re fickle? They might be disgusted by your behavior if they think you’re just going around begging for things from anyone,” the first person asked. “They probably talk to each other and gossip about their devotees; otherwise, being a god would be too lonely.”
Sam stopped eavesdropping on the conversation, processing the rest of it since it couldn’t escape his senses but choosing to ignore it as if he were meditating and the various conversations people were having were his stray and distracting thoughts. Sam deactivated his All-Seeing Gaze and stared up at the sky. What should’ve been a clear and blue sky was, instead, filled with dimensional specks and lines, cluttering Sam’s view. The dimensional specks and lines were everywhere but were more concentrated in specific regions.
“Some regions are naturally more connected than others,” the Mother said, not feeling one bit guilty about joining the public forum known as Sam’s personal thoughts. “Of course, if things of interest congregate in large numbers within an area, dimensional specks and lines are bound to be formed there like roads to a crowded city.”
“I see,” Sam said, staring up at the specks. He sent his All-Seeing Gaze through one of them, focusing on absorbing as much details as he could while his awareness traveled into another dimension before winding up in another region of Oterra, a sandy one with nothing much in view. It looked like he had found a shortcut to the vast desert about Et Serpentium, but Sam wasn’t interested in that. He retracted his awareness, reentering the speck where the swirl of foreign colors filled his sense of self.
“You don’t have the right organs to interpret a higher dimension,” the Mother said. “It’s a surprise in itself you’re capable of even experiencing the flow of time while traveling through one of the specks.” The blue-ringed octopus glanced down at Sam’s chest. “It must be because of your heart, well, the rock you’ve replaced your heart and lungs with.”
Sam barely registered the Mother’s words, the swirling colors overpowering his sense of self. His awareness returned to the skies above the courtyard, and Sam shuddered as his senses returned to him. A cold gust of wind blew past his body, causing goosebumps to rise on his flesh. Sam glanced at the octopus perched on his shoulder before looking past it at the twin-headed snake wrapped around his arm. “Werchbite,” Sam said in his mind, conveying his thoughts to the snake’s purple head.
“Yes, Sam?”
“Can you create a device for me to explore higher dimensions?” Sam asked.
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“Yes,” Werchbite said, “but I’ll have to replace your brain.”
Sam brought his hand up and stroked his chin, a habit he had picked up while living as someone with a very long beard. If his brain were to be replaced, would he still be himself? His heart and lungs were one thing, but his brain was another.
“If someone creates a brain for you, it’ll be very easy for them to manipulate your thoughts and choices,” the Mother said. “Imagine Vercedeipoo is unhappy about being forced down to your arm from its spot on your face. It could convince Werchypoo into making your new brain more tolerant of its annoying antics. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to do something like that, and you wouldn’t even realize anything is wrong because your new brain would think it’s perfectly normal.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Vercedei said. “She just doesn’t want you to explore the higher dimensions.” The twin-headed snake’s blue head flicked its tongue in Sam’s direction when he made eye contact with it. “Think about it. The Mother wishes for you to sublimate, give up your current body and die to become a higher-dimensional being, but if you could experience what a higher-dimensional being can, why would you take the risk of killing yourself? You have to remember the Mother isn’t an ally, and she’s going to actively try to get rid of you.”
“I know,” Sam said, taking the snake’s words into consideration. Although Vercedei was called a deceiver by some, that didn’t mean the snake was always lying. Sam knew his position. His familiars stuck with him because they wanted something from him; there was no altruism in their actions, and it wouldn’t surprise Sam if the Mother really was trying to kill him. It wouldn’t surprise him if Werchbite and Vercedei wanted to turn him into a mindless puppet they could control either. The only person he could rely on was himself; luckily, he had to do just that in many of his lifetimes. Sam smiled at the twin-headed snake. “Make me the device, but don’t replace my brain just yet.”
“Even if you see it, you won’t be able to understand it,” the Mother said.
Sam shrugged. “It’s better to have the option than not,” he said. Truth be told, Sam was curious about the higher dimensions because there was nothing left in this one that interested him. A person could only do something so many times before it became boring, and it wasn’t unreasonable for people to risk their lives in the name of entertainment. People chased storms, climbed sheer cliffs, and swam down to deep depths, so Sam didn’t think he was doing something stupid by preparing to explore a higher dimension via risky methods.
“Why not use our followers?” Birdbrained asked. Instead of being perched atop Sam’s head, the eagle was resting on Manga’s rump, creating a clear dimple in the wooly pig’s fur. “Instead of taking the risk yourself, have Werchbite install these brains in someone else, and have them explore the higher dimensions for you.”
The colorless eagle’s suggestion wasn’t a bad one; although, it did lean more towards the side of evil.
“It doesn’t have to be evil,” Dirt said. The metallic koala was floating an inch above the wooly pig’s back, not having Manga’s permission to ride the pig. “Get volunteers who’re old or terminally ill. Compensate them with money that can take care of their families and those they’d be leaving behind, and they’d willingly help you out even if there are many inherent dangers when exploring the higher dimension. You’d figure out what’s beyond this dimension, and they’d die happy, knowing they were able to give their loved ones everything they could’ve asked for before they died.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said and looked at Werchbite. “How many of those devices can you create? Can you also add a recording function, so we can witness what they’ve seen?”
“I can,” Werchbite said. “I’ll have to, won’t I? If I don’t, you’ll fall for the Mother’s tricks sooner or later thanks to your curiosity.”
“Help me to help yourself,” Sam said. “Aren’t beneficial relationships great?” He reached over and scratched Raindu’s head while maintaining eye contact with the snake’s purple head. “What materials do you need? I’m pretty sure Raindu has them all inside their fur coat.”
“The materials exist outside of my fur too,” Raindu said and grabbed Sam’s finger with its front paws. The ferret moved his finger to the side off its head and let go. “Why do you have to use my stuff? Go get your own. Walk into one of those dimensional specks, and you’ll be wherever you want to be in an instant.”
“We live together, eat together, and sleep together,” Sam said. “What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. Isn’t that our relationship?”
“No,” Raindu said, crossing its front legs over its chest. “What’s mine is mine, and what you think is yours is mine. Everything I see, smell, and hear belongs to me.”
“Alright,” Sam said, a faint smile appearing on his lips. He looked at Werchbite. “So, tell me what you need, and I’ll get them for you.” He was the CEO of the largest company representing humanity, so even if he couldn’t take things from his magical ferret, there were other hassle-free—for him—ways of obtaining the necessary goods. Sam tapped on Birdbrained’s head using a telekinetic finger. “Get a grayling to record and procure the items.”
“Making me do all the grunt work,” Birdbrained said with a grumble. However, it did as it was asked, and a grayling blinked into existence in the air atop the wooly pig. It fell onto the pig’s back with a thump and immediately stood up. There was a pen and notebook in the grayling’s hands, and it turned its attention onto Sam’s arm.
The twin-headed snake spoke, through Vercedei’s mouth, giving a list of crystals and gems it required. Considering the list went on and on and didn’t seem to end, Sam believed the twin-headed snake was requesting more than the required materials so it could pocket some for itself, but he didn’t care. As long as what he wanted was going to get done, it didn’t matter if Werchbite and Vercedei pocketed some extra things for themselves. It’d be mean to force them to work without appropriate compensation.
Sam lay down, looking up at the sky. He stared at the dimensional specks and lines before deciding against sending his awareness through them. Although he couldn’t understand any of the swirls or colors when he went through the specks, that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything on the other side watching him travel about. It was safer to send other people’s awareness into those dimensions to gather information before continuing to use his dimension-crossing ability.
“Once you’ve obtained enough information, enough to put your concerns to rest, are you going to sublimate yourself then?” the Mother asked. “I have a feeling I already know the answer to that question.” The octopus smiled at Sam; though, it was hard to see the change in its facial expression. “Once you’ve seen another dimension, this one won’t be enough to satisfy you any longer.”
Sam shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said.
“Don’t be like that,” the Mother said. “Do you really believe what your familiars are saying about me?”
“You can’t trust anyone in this world,” Sam said. “Not even yourself.” With worms capable of controlling people’s minds, and octopuses capable of making someone live trillions of lives, it was hard to be sure one’s thoughts were their own. His familiars made a fair point about the Mother, and he would be a fool not to keep it within consideration. “Forgive me if my suspicion is undue, but you should understand my position.”
“I understand it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” the Mother said before pressing herself flat against Sam’s shoulder, the octopus appearing more like an emblem on his clothes than a living creature.
Sam’s eyes shifted towards the grayling, which had finally finished writing down everything Vercedei demanded. “How long will it take to gather everything?”
The grayling looked at the written list in its hands. “Several days,” the graylings said. “Some of these items can only be found in dungeons, and some are located far from the capital. Although it won’t be difficult to obtain them all, transportation may take a while.” The grayling turned its head towards the octopus on Sam’s shoulder. “Unless we get some help from the blue avians. They travel quite quickly, and they can hold large quantities without issue.”
“Why are you looking at me?” the Mother asked. “I am their creator, but I don’t decide what they do. If you want them to work for you, then ask them yourself.”
Sam telekinetically prodded the Mother, almost causing the octopus to fall off his clothes. Luckily, it had suckers on its tentacles that kept it in place. “Call them,” Sam said. “It’s not like they’re busy. Their original jobs were to guard Oterra from calamities, but there aren’t any calamities around right now. They can transport some goods for us, and who knows? Maybe they’ll find traces of a calamity while delivering the items.”
“Fine,” the Mother said, “but if they don’t want to listen to your request, then I won’t force them.”
Not long after, a few blue avians appeared in the sky having flown from the horizon. They stopped in front of Sam and looked around. “Hey?” one of the blue avians asked.
“Yes,” Sam said. “I was waiting for you. The Mother wishes for you to help me out for a bit. Think of it as helping the Mother herself.” He gestured towards the grayling. “This fellow will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Sam…,” the Mother said as the grayling leapt off the wooly pig’s back, the blue avians following after the creature. “Can you not use my name like that?”
“I’ll try not to,” Sam said, giving the Mother no guarantee, “but it’s not really my fault, right? The blue avians couldn’t detect the lie, and it’s on them for being fooled.”