. . .

[bargemods]

[Late afternoon, there comes a voice onto the Barge's network. It has the same quality as the Admiral when making announcements - resounding, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere, unaffected by the glitches that plague normal communicators trying to connect from planet to ship.

It doesn't quite sound like the Admiral. Does it?]

Passengers, do you know what the nature of creation is? That is to say, this universe and all others? I searched for a long time to know the answer. It was my assignment to bring order to chaos, you see - to ensure that no living thing had to suffer because of our oversights. Where there was evil I was to redeem it. I was rather like some of you, in that way.

I found, of course, that the more chaos I eliminated and set right, the more would spring up all around it. It was as if my task itself was an unnatural intrusion upon a natural order, like Sisyphus pushing his boulder. That is how I knew. This creation of ours cannot and should not be fixed. Its inherent nature is that of evil and suffering, and it must be put out of its misery so we can begin again. To try to redeem is pointless. But, if you insist on continuing to delay the greater good...

I suppose you force my hand.

Comments

[tucky]

Who are you?

["What are you?" is what she almost asks.]

[threetoned]

You've forgotten me already, Tiffany?

[tucky]

But--

[What was he doing here? He was from that tower, and that had been over a month ago.]

You ain't from here. Are you?

Are you the Admiral?

[threetoned]

[The man chuckles.]

No. I'm not the Admiral.

[tucky]

Can you say who you are? Why're you here? Are you an inmate?

[threetoned]

No, not an inmate. More like... A warden to the cosmos.

[tucky]

Are you God?

[threetoned]

An interesting path of inquiry. But, I am afraid that if such a being still exists he has not been heard from in eons.

[tucky]

Okay. But you're real powerful, even if you ain't as high as him.

Do you want to help us? You helped me.

[threetoned]

Yes. I am here to help.

[tucky]

Good.

[Paaaaaause.]

But how? 'Cause... you're talking about not fixing stuff and putting us out of our misery, here.

[threetoned]

Yes.

These worlds are in such pain, and it will only become worse the longer it is left to fester.

[tucky]

Are you talking about the port world?

[threetoned]

Among others.

[tucky]

... I don't think you should go around destroying worlds. We ain't gonna help you do that here, so maybe you should just shove off.

[threetoned]

When fleas refuse to help men, does it matter at all?

[tucky]

Saying stuff like that is why God won't talk to you.

[threetoned]

He's gone. There's only me.

[tucky]

He ain't gone, all right? You don't know him, is all.

[routemistress]

I 'ave a pretty good idea. And you can stuff greater good where the sun don't shine, mister. That's what they all say when they need an excuse to treat someone like shite.

[threetoned]

Death is frightening to you, isn't it? I understand.

[routemistress]

[At this she laughs aloud: partly because it's true, but mostly because Iris being afraid of a thing always means her being drawn to it, like a moth to light.

She has a lot more fear in her than she ever allows anyone - herself included - to see. For Iris, though, existence is about conquering your fears, death included.]

You don't understand bollocks about me, you great pompous shitestain. I'll give you one chance to fold up your dimensional rifts and piss off back 'ome, 'cause otherwise I'm going to fold 'em up for you and you might not like where all your filthy beasties end up.

[threetoned]

I won't mind. By all means, occupy yourself.

[routemistress]

By all means, go screw yourself. Pillock.

[formerself]

[just 100% done with dickheads trying to stir shit.]

Fuck off.