Worlds of Omniscience is a short story told in ten chapters, where each one is a pastiche of another work of science fiction. Originally, I wrote this as a school project and this is what I submitted as a final result. Ever since I have re-written this story, into a better version of itself, so that we can create a graphic novel. Whenever it is ready you will know.
Axel
One
Out of the Blazing World
Written by the most noble, humble and illustrious
Duke of Newcastle
MONTREAL
Printed by A.Trujillo, in the Year MMXIX
Lord Cavendish pondered the spirits reply, obsessed with the multiverse after the visit of the empress and the duchess, he began to experiment in his room in an attempt to relive the experience his wife the duchess discovered and learnt to leave his body in his world though not on his own but with the guidance of the spirits and the tutelage of the duchess herself, and in his first attempts although he did not travel any great distances nor to any other fancy like the one ruled by the Empress of the Blazing World, he first mastered the disturbing feeling of self-separation until he felt sure of his capabilities as a bodiless traveler and while to the rest of his world he seems to be sleeping and dead at the same time, his soul which is not without matter but instead separated from him while still being a part of him, is free to explore and for the first time since his encounter with the Duchess and the Empress, Lord Cavendish is able to see not only his world which is very much a part of our world but not quite the same as ours but also he sees and hears and feels the strings that connect this his world with all that surround it and thus with great rejoice and anticipation he set out to follow the strands of a plurality of worlds by leaving his body in his room to visit the closest world of which there are so many that to count them would drive one mad and though as educated and well-mannered as he was, for he came from one of the richest and most noble houses of all the country, he could not have known what surprises awaited for him beyond the boundaries of his world and off he went, following the sounds and the sights of the rest of the universes and of the multitude of worlds that awaited his arrival.
Two
Born in Darkness
Lord Cavendish, the husband of the Duchess of Cavendish who was now the most trusted advisor for the Empress of the Blazing World, walked among the cold streets of this new and brightly lit world. The moon was full and yet everything around him was illuminated by strange metallic trees that burned with a strange light. However as soon as he appeared, his awe was interrupted by an all-encompassing pain.
Something inside of him was moving.
He looked around to find someone who might be of help but as the pain increased, he realized that there was no one else but him. “Oh Dear.” Cavendish kneeled and he tried to keep his body from breaking to pieces but all he could do was scream.
“Please help!” He cried but no one listened. He felt that his soul was leaving his body. Impossible! He managed to think. He put his hand over his heart and then something began to push itself out of his chest. He felt something moving with great intensity.
He had already wasted all of his voice crying but as he opened his mouth to try and call for help once again, something crawled out. Something without shape and in pain fell to the ground making unforgiving noises. Cavendish was too weak to say it, but he could think of no other word to describe the creature that laid before him: “Disgusting.”
It was moving and twitching and screeching as it made sense of its surroundings.
The pain was gone. Thankfully it stopped as soon as the creature was vomited. Cavendish looked at it with disdain and began walking backwards without taking his eyes off it, but he had only managed to take a couple of steps away from the wretched thing before he felt the pain once again. Except that this time it seemed that the filthy creature cried in pain just as he did. It began doing horrible noises as it struggled to breath until it finally began moving towards him. “Step back!” He said but after hearing his voice the creature seemed to have smiled in its own way and with its disfigured features. With what he thought were its legs it began running or crawling really fast. “No. No. No.” He tumbled down and the creature was about to jump on him but then as he began to crawl backwards, he felt something hard with his left hand and out of pure instinct and driven by fear he grabbed the rock.
The pain and anguish in him imploded. He felt a fever and as his skin was burning and the world around him seemed to spin without stopping, he stood against the wall of the small alleyway. He gulped. “Dear God. What was that?” Cavendish asked without expecting an answer. The parasite was gone and after he had hit it with a rock, after the inexplicable pain he felt had vanished so did the parasitic creature as it began to crumble and to fade away in a cloud of dust.
He realized he was in some kind of city, thankfully somewhere still in England. He kept walking through the streets of this strange version of his home, trying to find someone who could help him or guide him. Along the way he saw a queer sardonic rat run past him while holding a wallet in its mouth. A strange phenomenon of light surrounded the animal and since he was so weak, he guessed it was being caused by the fever. That creature that crawled out of him must have been a multiversal parasite, like the ones the Spirits in his world had warned him about. “And I killed it just in time.” He thought as he made his way through the night. Finally, after an hour of wandering he encountered a man. He was short and a little disfigured he thought. Dressed in nice clothes, wearing a hat and walking quickly with a cane. But when he saw his face clearly under the curious lights that emanated from the metallic trees, he couldn’t pin down his deformity. The short man was not alone, he was carrying a lizard on his shoulder and Cavendish wondered if the man was aware of the reptile. He figured it would be rude to say anything, so he kept the remark to himself.
“Are you all right?” The man asked. And before he could reply, Cavendish felt his body failing him and couldn’t even feel the floor as his face slammed against the pavement. The man tried to grab him but as soon as he put his hand on him, Cavendish felt his fever dissipate. The Lord was then overcome by a frenzy and held the man’s hand until all of his life force was drained, leaving the lizard and its master paralyzed until they were both dead. After just a few seconds a rejuvenated Cavendish saw what he had done and fled in terror not noticing the cloud of dust that was fading beside the corpse of the short man.
Although he was terrified, he couldn’t help but to feel better so the first thing he thought of was of course, of going home. He made his way to the outskirts and walked until he found his house. However as soon as he arrived at his castle, he found out that there was already someone else living there! Cavendish screamed through the gates until the butler showed up and told him to leave. “Immediately!” The butler shouted, but before could say something else, Cavendish killed him with a single touch. He noticed that the dog that was with the butler, a bulldog by the looks of it, turned into dust. Desperately he looked for the keys in the corpse, he entered the mansion and without hesitation, overcome by the fever he proceeded to kill however was inside.
For a month he impersonated the owner of the mansion and during said time he made quick use of the rich library to learn all about this new world, learning all about the deamons people had. He realized that he would never truly fit in this strange world since he had no deamon and buying one was impossible. Finally, he decided to travel back to his world and to do so, he repeated the procedure that the Spirits taught him. Leaving his mind in blank and repeating to himself. “My mind is in another world. My mind is in another world. My mind is in another world.”
He left his new body lying in the comfort of his bed and separated once again to travel to another world.
Three
The Eyes That See No Light
TheStrandINC.ca
Inspired by the short story by H.G.Wells.
Recovered from an unpublished manuscript originally written in November, 1919.
First Published in November, 2019.
He arrived at dawn when everyone sleeps. He followed the road while bathing under the light and noticed the flow of dust that crossed the colourless city. The smell guided him, and he walked slowly. The next day a body was found, a carcass of his former self with an expression of anguish, his skin felling off as they tried to carry him. Everyone was terrified but no one had any answers. Only fears and unconfirmed rumours. A week passed and the elders were still investigating and debating about the horrendous loss. Their most prevailing theory was confirmed with the discovery of another body. A new disease had made its way into the valley. Immediately, diets changed, entire crops were destroyed, and no one was allowed to go one day without being checked by a physician. No one really slept so when the sun came out ears were more attentive than ever and in their dreams they heard the steps of a ghost and its forgotten breath, the fear of dying to an invisible killer brought them together like never before and their reforms worked as nobody else fell prey to the mysterious disease. At last, after a month of deadly anxiety they heard the evil leave their valley. That year the path of rocks was built to forever connect everyone. Lord Cavendish separated once again, leaving his body in the mountains, where no one would stumble upon it and spread his matter over the multiverse once again, leaving the obscured valley behind.
Four
GILCHRIST’S: LADY’S AND GENTLEMAN’S MAGAZINE
NO. CLXXXV MAY, 1841
Terms- three dollars per annum, or two copees for five dollars, invariably in advance.
MONTREAL:
We had thought that after generations of guiding traveler after traveler we understood the beast. And although our warnings were not inaccurate, they were far from being the whole truth. It was my father who told me this. He claims to have witnessed the story as he was escaping the monster himself. He always began the story with: “He fell from the sky.” His eyes were always lost as if he could see the sea and feel the might of the wind. He continued to speak, “He fell to the ocean. The poor man swam for as long as he could, but his body was already decaying, there were no lights to guide him to anyone who might save his life and all I did was watch him from afar. The water took him and filled his lungs, making him heavy and bending in over itself to crush him under the entropy that threatened to destroy the fundamental forces of the universe. Everything was moving. And then he saw it, he saw it all. Even though I was far away, and his face was nothing but a blur, I could see him battle and rage against the old Titan, he was not drowning in an empty ocean, he was not dying in the void, no! He was being reborn in the vowels of the greatest destroyer, he was drowning in an ocean of dust, a current of living entropy that consumed every bond known to man. Lost and forgotten he now lays at the bottom of the blackest hole.” That’s as far as my father’s story goes but now that I have told you, this curse is no longer my family’s to endure. Lost and living in blackness I am sure his soul has left his body by now. The body he left is destroyed and reformed in an endless spiral of violence. Meanwhile I hope his soul arrives to a better place.
Five
Next Dimensions, June 1987.
In honour of the late Alice B. Sheldon, notorious author and winner of the Hugo award.
Unnatural Lights © are everywhere these days. Don’t worry, the handsome Lord Cavendish is alright. His soul made it to another world. A world of interconnectivity. A lumping figure makes its way through the narrow alleys that cut through the buildings of the powerful. The lights from the sky don’t dare to touch the slimy creatures that crawl in between. Among the rejected and the freeloaders, our poor little Lord Cavendish stumbles, with a decaying body and a sad smile. But what reason could one of those in the shadows have to smile? What is it and where do you buy it? The rest of the decaying looked at the fatigued figure soaking in sweat. Must be a Pretty Good High ©, the rest of them thought. Poorer bastards they couldn’t have been, they were so high they didn’t even feel their soul being drained, they and all those around them just stood there and let it happen. At least the fellas from the Waste Recollection Service © won’t have to waste their time bargaining with this unpleasant lot. Ironic isn’t it? Once more the poor are consumed by the wealthy. They are calling it a new super drug, and everybody wants it. Not even the sweet Delphi can get a hold of it. Everyday there are dozens of dead among the garbage bags. Cold garbage in the way of the morning commute. The lights in the sky cannot produce this ultimate drug, the board is losing their shit. Who made it and why is it free? In one week, death had become the ultimate commodity. The streets flooded with angry costumers demanding a piece of the MumiFyr ©. A sample, a used syringe, anything! Bunch of junkies. Corrupt. After a month of feeding in this rotten world of artificial lights, our proud Lord Cavendish lost himself in the shadows between the Towers of Babel ©. There is nothing to gain in this hollow world, nothing but corrupted energy. So, the wanderer left, leaving the whole world with the biggest case of blue balls it has ever seen, adding to the pile of cold garbage one more soulless body.
Six
Follow the Printed voices. (Sigue a las voces impresas)
Argentina, 1968
This labyrinth which is what I would call this bizarre universe is filled with nothing but books. Out of a world of hollow bodies I landed in one filled with empty words. Just like my hunger, the books here seemed to be endless, I saw no dust at first so for a brief moment of existence my head was clear, and I allowed myself to pick one of the books. Gibberish and enlightenment. In the organized chaos I plunged into the madness that appeared before mine eyes. Not even a particle of cosmic dust made itself visible but that made no difference to me, for among the endless possibilities there might present itself an answer to this curse of mine and if perhaps, god be willing, I lost myself without separating even further from my soul I might even be able to find my way back. I only needed the right combination. A map of the multiverse that showed me the way out of this endless, infinite and desolated abyss. All I needed was a way to go back to the point of origin of my dark materials.
Seven
BOOK VII
The Argument: Lord Cavendish arrives in hell after separating himself from his-self once again. There he burns to a crisp and nearly dies until he is found by the legions of Pandemonium. The leader of the fallen angels seeks the truth from him but as Lord Cavendish is unable to respond, she attempts to commune with God with no success whatsoever. However, when the angel carries Cavendish to dispose of him, the parasitic lord consumes her energy and revitalizes himself. After that he disappears forever from hell.
Thus the soulless lord spake, and from empty
words among the organised chaos he
from himself once more he plunged into the
darkness, He from himself and across the
totality of multitude of worlds
from his fallen self once again drifted
apart and though in his fallen state was
earthbound he no longer among empty
words he found himself for in his self-hate
and self-malice to the origin of
his dark materials he from Himself did
guide towards, falling for a space of time
from which three days are made for fallen he
was born to be and fallen he searched for
the end of this his torment but alas
no end was to be seen nor any sort
of hope to be felt among those fools who
venture beyond divine Boundaries safe
for that which themselves with them bring, and thus
once again the Soulless lord towards his hell he fell.
Unbeknownst to him in cinder and hope
he crashed, anger and self-taught torture to
him the fallen legions to himself brought
armed perhaps with spears and Malice, above
all with fear and caution the Fallen gods
of heaven in a circle of Distrust
and disgust they him surrounded for as
fallen as he was and fallen as they
were Equals they were not, with the power
to break the Earth in half the leader of
the Fallen legions with misplaced pride in
between her kin and the uninvited
Guest she fiercely stood demanding nothing
but the truth from the incomplete being that
before them burnt, she for the words that this
treachery enlightened awaited but
he in his agony words produced not
nor could receive and thus with masked Disgust
to Pandemonium ordered the rest of
the legions to return staying only her
behind to watch and witness ,the divine
justice that befalls on those who against
His will through His dark materials dare to
cross the holy boundaries set in between
the worlds, but alas no justice and no
consequence nor Divinity itself
was made visible to her fallen eyes,
thus the fallen angel in her ruin,
her Sight to where she felt the heavens were
with delight and anticipation thus
replied; Oh thou Heavenly Father, my
heavenly tyrant Highest of all, more
powerful than Dream himself, thou destined
me to betray the laws of your kingdom
in prototype, you the worst of my foes
and the best of friends, to you I call and
pray, away from the legions whom with me
fought your throne to take away in a vain
attempt to supplant your Authority,
here in secret council, in communion
I ask thee not for myself but for the
wretched Soul that doth to burns before fallen
eyes and to whom my words cannot reach for
they burn with him, I ask; What should I do
Lord? What punishment best suits him, the one
trespasser of worlds and divine frontiers,
to which inquisition should I fragment
of divinity, the general of
your fallen legions though fallen we are
yours we remain, how should I dispose
this excuse of a soul? No answer to the
Fallen one was heard nor no light visible
appeared nor no hope of redemption from
across the organized chaos of His
dark materials dared to shine in her eyes.
Thus with renewed hatred and purpose the
angel of hell from its limb the dark soul
that burnt with delicacy dared to lift,
with cold indifference her soft hands the
burnt soul caressed and out of the pit of
molten dreams carried him away like a
hunter carries away a dead thing, in
eternal silence the crisped figure
swayed under the darkness visible as it
was carried across the desolated
kingdom of freedom, and it was alas
at the top of Mount Yomotsu that screams
adorned the obscure heavens as darkened
life in angel’s hands itself found renewed,
with unholy strength the Dead fingers of
the uninvited guest gripp’d the force of
life out of the divine body which had
carried him out of Death’s domain and with
the taste of heavenly dust still fresh in
him, the soulless Lord stood strong and sinful
atop the mount that Separated the
realms of Death and of her Heavenly sister Life.
Alone he stood over the void body,
reborn from ashes of His misery He
from himself once again separated
and through the endless organized chaos
across the breathless abyss and into
new Worlds beyond the Final frontier flew.
Eight
Deserts of vast eternity
From Selected short fiction and other writings
I want you to imagine a cell. You don’t have to really since we have more than a thousand pictures and we presume to know almost every detail. But just for a second, for an instant in between moments I, want you, to imagine a cell. Just the cell. Without the body, without the mind and without a soul. A single cell that carries with it all of its multiple forms and variations encoded in its nucleus, a replicating-self-sustaining independent and uniquely evolved cell. It has organelles made out of lipids, sugars and proteins. Every one of those has a vital role as important as the next but they are as expendable as the rest. A nearly perfect organism that remains in homeostasis by taking what it needs whenever it needs it, with no regards to the effect it will have on the exterior since its only mission is to live and replicate. As long as it is protected by its bi-lipid layer and the homeostasis is maintained, the perfectly disordered genetic material will keep providing it with the same… I don’t think we have invented a word for it, but shall we call it a, um, ah… I had the word just a few seconds ago, it’s not a purpose but I’m sure it has something to do with it. Mandate? No. God. What am I trying to say? God what is it? A cell, God. What is a cell without a soul? God. I feel the word replicating it itself all around me, but I cannot pin it down. God. If I knew how it started but maybe this word has no beginning and I cannot even imagine it having an end.
What I am trying to describe is a cell without a soul, something that is beyond the realm of human comprehension but within us all. Something that replicates like a chain of nucleic acids and determines the destiny of entire planets. The combination of these, let’s call ’em letters, yes? Right, the combination of these letters allows the existence of life and steers it in whatever direction it seems fit, left or right. It drives us as humans to reach for the endless, up or down, all thanks to those four self-replicating letters.
The burning desire to explore is not something that the average person is born with. You would have to be crazy to want to leave the comfort and warmth of your house. But for those who are dreamers this desire can turn into a curse. For those who are acutely sensitive to the fading of dreams, not being able to explore can feel like a knife in the dark. Nobody knows why but the best among our brightest argue that it might have something to do with the nature of our genetic code. Our self-replicating code of life can turn our cells into machines of self-replicating-hate. People who are denied their adventure are self-destroyed, self-denigrated. This self-imposed manifest, this self-taught destiny replaces our desire to know and of adventure until we become nothing more than parasites and wherever we go, we take more than we need, whenever we want. With no regards for what happens to the outer world. To be an explorer you need to have desire, but you are not required to show restraint.
One of these cursed agglomerations of cells woke to the sound of leaves breathing. After nine days of sleep and of unconscious caresses, Lord Cavendish finally stood up. “Hello” he tried to whisper, with a confusing look. But he sneezed. And his loud irruption bounced off from every leaf that hung from the trees that surrounded him in the circular plain in which he was standing. Something in the air was tickling his nose so once again he sneezed. As if he had just lost something, Cavendish kneeled down to catch his breath but more and more he began to feel an incredible nausea. “Oh My God…” he stopped his fall just in time by supporting his weight on his hands as he crushed the green underneath him and continued to speak “Please, somebody help me.” He remained bowed before the expanse of life around him for quite a long time.
He looked ancient. His skin was absurdly colourless, and he was sure he could see through his hands into his arteries which appeared to be empty. His muscles trembled and his bones felt broken from within. He had no strength left. No will to live. He felt as if he wasn’t even there and instead, he was looking and living this isolation through the eyes of something else, as if something above him told him how to feel and what to do. He felt empty, but at least he knew he could still feel. The expression on his face changed from one of suffering to one of relief. He breathed in the colour of the green and with each breath came a tickling inside his nose which he ignored. Each particle of life he took in renewed his denaturalized body. “The fear…” he said as his eyes widened.
“The fear!”
As Cavendish collapsed, he crushed even more of the flowers. More particles were now in the air and all he could do was breath. He muttered an incomprehensible prayer to where he thought his God was but somehow, he knew that he deserved no answer. “I…” His voice left him.
He crawled through the grass and trampled across the garden, away from the fear but as he touched the first tree that he bumped into he realized that the fear was everywhere. On every leaf and in every breath he took. His pale and trembling hands grabbed the root closest to him, he pulled himself towards the trunk and erected he stood again. Then he saw it all around him. He saw the source of the fear, of the particle of life that had sustained him since his arrival to this forsaken paradise. “The Fear… it’s yours.” He finally saw it. It was its fear and it was all around him. It was on it that he was standing on. And, it was “afraid of me.” The silence of wind and leaves was afraid of him. But as soon as Cavendish understood the paradise’s fear it lost its only defence against the parasitic lord.
It took him seven days to consume the fruit of the green world. Leaving behind not even the tiniest particle of Dust.
“Another lifeless asteroid.” Uttered Osden as he avoided all forms of contact with the rest of his insipid crew members. “This is obviously not the one we are looking for, but of course if you weren’t so bent on making me feel comfortable, we might actually achieve something of value. Just leave me alone and do your jobs! What are you looking at?!”
The Gum continued with its mission, searching for the green world. But if Osden hadn’t been inside the protection of his ship then he might have felt the agony and the pleasure of the multiversal parasite that separated from its body on the surface of the dead world.
Nine
Extraordinary tales of speculative fiction, Issue 13.
February, 1953. United Kingdom
“Listen, George.” The urgent voice said. “I’ve learnt something that means trouble.” Hidden in the shadows, Lord Cavendish restrained himself from grabbing the man from the neck and draining his life force away.
The other man who was smoking agreed to entertain whatever silly ideas his friend was carrying with him. “Go on: I’ll buy it.” Lord Cavendish listened, while remaining hidden in the shadows, taking in every word but also trying to resist the urge to laugh at their queer accent.
After they left, Lord Cavendish thought this over for a moment.
“You don’t seem convinced.” The monk said as he interrupted Cavendish’s thoughts. “Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not. I’m just trying to imagine, the end of the world I mean.” The monk stood beside him and looked at him with a reassuring smile.
“That is not our job.” The monk told the Lord. “We are only meant to live in it.”
“How can you be so sure? How can you trust the word of a soulless thing? How can you trust your fate and destiny to the thing you call a computer? Isn’t that an affront against faith?” The Lord asked from his heart and the monk replied with a serene voice.
“The computer is just a tool. I trust that my faith is enough to guide my soul till the end. We write our own stories and as such, what we do with our lives and our souls it is our responsibility and no one else’s.”
The Monk and the Lord stood silently for a moment.
“And you are happy? Are you not interested in seeing the rest of the world? Of seeing other… places?” The Lord asked.
The Monk laughed and answered. “Why bother? I already have something better than anything else.”
“God?” The Lord asked.
“No sir, my faith.” The monk replied with a smile. “I know that through my fate I will find God, and that is more than enough for me.”
The Lord looked from above the mountain and felt the chilly air before replying. “Good sir, may I…” The monk anticipated him. “If you wish to wait here for the arrival of God, you are very welcome to do so.”
“Thank you.”
“In the end he always finds us, no matter how far we away we stray. What is important is that we choose to come back.” The monk said.
Three months passed and Lord Cavendish waited. But on the day that the computer would finish its calculations and when with no fuss at all the stars were going out, he closed his eyes and thought of him burning in the pits of hell while being violently ripped apart in the bottom of the blackest hole. He remembered the stench of the streets in between the buildings with artificial lights and the isolation of the green. He tried to cling on to his memories of the place with no sight and of the peace that reigned in the place with no dust. And finally, he saw once again the creature that had crawled out of him, the parasite that threatened to drain his life force in that first distant world.
So, when he opened his eyes for the last time in this world, he whispered to himself. “I don’t deserve this peace.”
And once again, he from himself…
Ten
Separated.
(The reader notices that the title is also the missing word of the last line in the previous chapter, the reader smiles and keeps on reading.)
READER
[Inside a thought bubble]
And once again, he from himself… What’s the title?
Ah, Separated. So, “And once again, he from himself… Separated.”
Huh.
(The reader reads about the omniscience of the worlds, sometimes in a comfortable chair, sometimes standing inside the moving trains of the subway and other times by listening to the words of…)
READER
[whispering]
Omniscience.
(The reader feels something cold behind, the wind, a breathing, the reader wants to turn, the reader must, there it is again but closer, the reader ignores it.)
READER
[inside a thought bubble]
What about Cavendish?
(The reader stops and listens, the cold wind behind, the breathing in the reader’s ear.)
LORD CAVENDISH
I am right here.
About the author
Axel Trujillo Ledesma was born in Mexico City, he grew up there as well. As a writer he is interested in producing short stories that explore different genres and deal with current themes.
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