Visions of a Madman

My room is shaking again. Usually the foreshadowing of work to be done. And usually not very fulfilling work.

Don’t get me wrong, I do like my job. Most of the time I just get to sit around and relax in my room. Granted it is a bit spartan, but whatever I need or want I can get easy enough. So there is nothing I find myself wanting for. The only downside are my bosses.

“I want blah blah blah now!”

Always now. Never “I want this in the next two weeks” or “at some point in the future”. It is always now. Immediate gratification is going to be the downfall of the human race, mark my words.

And it’s not like what they ask for is ever anything that they truly need. It is always want they want. And they want it for themselves, not the rest of humanity. Greedy bastards is what they are.

Well most of them any way. Occasionally I do get a boss that has altruistic motives, which is always a breath of fresh air, but they are a rare breed. Everyone else I have worked for, the vast majority, are simply greedy, self-serving egomaniacs looking to make themselves wealthier, hold more power, improve their social standing, whatever. It almost makes me weep for humanity. Almost.

Truth is humanity probably has what is coming to it, if the folks I have worked for are a true representation. If wishes were horses, then dreamers would ride, goes the old saying … I kinda wish the horses would just stampede my bosses.

The shaking has stopped, and I am just waiting on the pop to let me know it’s time for me to begin.

—– POP —–

“Oh thank you for releasing me from the bottle. You may have three wishes in gratitude.”

“Really? Ok … wow. Um, maybe a billion dollars would be nice.”

“You have to say ‘I wish I had …’, sir.”

“Oh, right. I wish I had a billion dollars.”

“Granted.”

“Really? Cool! OK, I wish I was the president of the world.”

“Truly original, sir, I have never heard that one before. Granted.”

“Excellent. Now what should I wish for on my third wish?”

“If I may be so bold sir, perhaps a herd of fine Arabian Chargers?”

“So you say life is a game of dice. There is chance, luck, and for some few, a set of loaded dice. The biggest difference is what side of the roll you are on. The rolls are random, sporadic. The dice tumble and bounce, the results are viewed, and the results play out as they will. And there is a being watching and interpreting the rolls, causing events to unfurl as the rolls indicate. I think that may be nothing more than a load of crap.”

“Watch your tongue, Hesran, you border on blasphemy.”

The young wizard turned to the priest with whom he was traveling. To be sure, Belthas did not seem like your typical follower of the Cup and Tower. He was rather spontaneous in his actions, something which most followers avoided, looking to the rolls to determine their actions. He did wear the regalia, however. Cubes, pyramids, and more hung around his neck, all carrying numbers along their sides, the symbol of a Roller, as they were known to those who did not follow the same belief. And while Belthas, as a Roller, was uncharacteristically accepting of those who did not believe, he was steadfast in his belief and spoke out when it was derided.

“Apologies, friend, I mean no disrespect. I just find it hard to believe that there is a single being above all, including the Gods themselves, who dictates the outcome for all of us based on the random results of some dice.”

“I accept you apology, Hesran. And I can even understand your inability to belief is the Master of the Game. I too had trouble accepting the fact until I witnessed the truth firsthand.”

This was something new in the conversation. Hesran had always assumed Belthas had always been a follower of the Cup and Tower. It never occurred to him his companion had ever been anything but.

“I never pegged you as one who had  doubts in your faith, Belthas.”

“Not now, no. But before I took up the faith, I had doubts of those who spoke of the Cup and Tower. It all seemed too random to have any order to it. But then I witnessed an occurrence that opened my eyes to the Meta. From that day forward, I could not deny there was a greater power behind everything.”

———————-

Thomas looked at James and shook his head.

“Yeah, man, I’m going to need a bluff check on that one.”

“What? It’s what he believes, man! Surely I should be able to make a diplomacy check instead.”

Sara piped up.

“I have to agree with Thomas. I mean the Meta? Really? I know you wanted to play a cleric that followed his own faith, but this is getting a bit silly.”

“OK, OK, I may have gone overboard there. Fine, bluff check it is.”

———————-

Belthas looked down at the string of prayer dice and frowned.

“Crap.”, he whispered, “A 5 … brings it up to a 11.”

The prayer dice spun once again, stopping on a 2.

“So tell me more about this Meta, Belthas. I am not familiar with it, but it does sound intriguing.”

John was walking down a beach of soft, white sand, the warm breeze caressing his face. A warm breeze that smelled distinctly of fish. Old fish. And he became aware of pressure on his chest. Something was not right.

He groaned.

“Oh good, you didn’t die. Would have had a bit of trouble explaining that one.”

John opened his eyes … and found himself looking a pelican squarely in the eyes. Or one eye, as the pelican standing on his chest had his head cocked. It still freaked John out none the less.

He scrambled backwards, sending the pelican tumbling to the dock.

“Hey, watch it buddy! I just saved your life! Beak to mouth resuscitation is not as as easy as you would think.”

John froze in mid scramble. It hadn’t been some heat stroke hallucination after all. There was a pelican talking to him.

“What … what do you want?!?”

“I just wanted to catch my lunch and have a relaxing afternoon, but you blew that all to hell with your noise and passing out. The fish scattered but good when you hit the dock.”

“B…but what do you want from me?”

“From you? Nothing. Unless you got some fish on you. I mean, you cost me my lunch, it would be only fitting that you provide a replacement.”

John slowly stood up. And realized he was tasting old fish. He fell back to his knees and vomited off the edge of the dock.

“Chumming the water won’t do you any good. The fish are long gone, man. Give it an hour or so and give it another try.”

“I’m not chumming the <retch> water. I have this taste of <hurl> rotten fish in my <gag> mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Had to get the beak in there to make sure the your airway was clear and I lost some of the snack I was saving for later. Maybe you should drink some water or something.”

John reached over to his bag between stomach convulsions and dug out the water bottle. Two minutes, most of his water and four sticks of gum later, most of the rotten fish flavor was gone and his stomach stopped trying to escape his body.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit I guess.”

“Good, now about lunch. How about your treat at the Casa del Sol?”

Clear blue water and a warm sun. Life was good. Very good.

He had arrived on the island three days before, unsure whether the vacation had been a good idea. All traces of those initial doubts were gone now. He arrived in Paradise with trepidation and now missed the small amount of time he had wasted on the island doubting his choice to come.

He had explored most of the relatively small island of St. Mordala. He had stopped into almost every shop in the small town on the island, swam in the warm ocean, drank wine on the beach as the sun set, and climbed the mountain, such as it was.

The mountain in the island’s center was just over the mark to being technically a hill, but the view from it’s peak was enough to make one forget that it lacked in height compared to the Rockies. The island spread out like a green spot on a blue field. There were no other islands visible, which to some may have seemed isolating, but to John, it seemed liberating. A freedom from the rest of the world and all that entails.

The previous night, the bartender at the hotel had suggested John try his hand at some fishing the following day. The hotel was apparently always happy to prepare anything a guest might catch and as it had been ages since he had held a fishing rod in his hands, the idea appealed to him.

With a rented rod, a container of bait, a hat, and plenty of sunscreen, John headed to the pier. It was there that his view of the world changed.

Sitting at the end of the pier was a pelican, seeming to watch the water as if scanning for fish. John expected the bird to take wing as he approached, but instead the pelican remained where it was. John was only a few feet away when the bird turned to him.

“Would you mind walking a bit quieter? The creaking boards are scaring the fish.”

John dropped the rod and bait container. They hit the timbers of the pier with a loud thud. The pelican sighed.

“Well, that did it. You scared them all away now. It’ll be a while before they come back here.”

“Y…you’re talking?”

“Of course I’m talking. Did you expect me to use sign language or something?”

“But you’re a bird … birds don’t talk.”

“Where did you hear that nonsense? Of course we talk. We talk all the time. We just tend not to do it when you self important balding apes are around. Well, except for parrots. Can’t get those guys to shut up regardless of your species.”

John’s legs began to wobble and the world swam before his eyes. With an even louder thud, he joined the rod and bait.