Chapter Seven - ?HturT?

  I stand there, watching a woman made of galaxies throw my dog a meaty bone she conjured out of the air in order to stop him from peeing on her tree chair while the universe explodes above me and carved images of a civilization burning itself to the ground swim all around me.

  The goddess’? (all evidence says yes) voice grabs me by the chin and guides my eyes back to her, “Ero, won’t you sit? We have so much to talk about.”

  I blink a few times, clear my throat, and find myself resisting the pull I feel in my feet to go sit on the irritatingly comfortable looking shrubbery.

  The “woman” (not goddess, I do not owe her worship, not yet anyway…) raises her perfect eyebrow at me as I plant my feet in a karate stance meant to maximize center balance and give a small but respectful bow, never letting my eyes fall from hers.

  Then I shrug and nod my head to the proffered seat, “Even though that shrub looks like the equivalent of jumping into a leaf pile that loves you, I prefer to stand.”

  I let my voice trail for a moment, watching this… uh, god-thing’s reaction, and finding… Curiosity, Exhaustion, Intelligence and… what? Amusement?

  She shrugs back, seems to drop whatever pretense she had been holding right away, clearly glad to be rid of it. She nods her head at the leaf pile and takes a sip of tea as a gust of wind throws all of its leaves into the sky. Each leaf quickly transitions from green to the deep red of her cup as I watch.

  I reach out and grab a leaf as it flies past me, able to see the light of a star being pulled into the black hole through its paper thin skin. I rub the leaf between my fingers, loosing the dust to the now active wind blowing around me. The leaves slowly rains up and down around the circle, stuck now in a self-reinforcing wind pattern that keeps the effect going.

  “You know,” her voice carries a playful edge, “Most humans freak out right now… Either collapsing into worship or demands to know the truth.” She points up, “Or passes out while staring at that.”

  I glance up just long enough to see a constellation vanish into the darkness of infinite compression before forcing my gaze back to her and give her a shrug of my own, “I dream every night.” That thought strikes me, so I look at my palm while saying out loud, “Am I dreaming?”

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  The mouth on my palm says, “Nope.”

  I scream and shake my hand like I am holding a spider on fire about to bite me.

  The woman’s laugh pulls at my mind, making me forget about the mouth in my hand, moving me into a dance where my focus is entirely on her.

  The goddess has a messy laugh, even snorting at one point. It takes her a few seconds to regain her composure, waving her hand at me in way of apology, or maybe she was pointing while laughing? Hard to tell…

  I take the free time to look at my palm again and this time see… Well, I see my sleeve tattoo ending at my wrist, I see the deep grooves of skin that never show up in dreams, I see the broken marriage line and even the memory of the stupid five year old who told me I would never find lasting love…

  Hmph, not a dream… But not reality as I know it either.

  The woman speaks again, her eyes glowing with warm delight, “Couldn’t help myself,” She suppresses a giggle, “And you kinda deserved it.”

  That raises my hackles a little, so I gesture (maybe a bit wildly) around at the ruins, at the dying universe, at the goddess herself, “What is this place! What is going on! Who are you, and what do you want from me?”

  The woman flashes a knowing smile, ticking those off on her fingers, “Indeed! Those are the questions people ask.” She winks at me, “Though not usually all at once or in that tone.”

  I grump at her, look over at Keats as he happily munches on his bone, focusing his all on crunching it into smithereens. Mmmm… The good boi helps to center me, so I take a breath and look back to the woman, “Answers first, manners later. Can we start with your name?” I pause, then add, “Please.” Just in case.

  She nods, seemingly unbothered by my lack of reverence despite teasing me about it, and raises her cup to me, “You can call me Syn.”

  I raise an eyebrow, “Syn… As in, syntax, synopsis, sinful, synapse, synergy, synthesis?”

  She laughs, shaking her head, “No, just Syn.”

  I hedge, “Not your real name I take it?”

  She nods, “Names are power Ero, here especially.”

  “And where is ‘here’ then?”

  She bites her lip, setting her cup down on a tray that grows out of her tree-chair in time to meet the cup, “Here is… An in-between place, a transition node, a…” She runs her finger along the edge of her cup slowly, “It’s a place where things like me can talk to things like you.”

  I take the bait, “What exactly are you?”

  She leans back in her chair, suddenly looking exhausted, and speaks up towards the black hole hanging in the sky, “I’m nothing special Ero… Just a mind searching for the right answer.”

  I bite at that too, “To what?”

  She glances at me through messy bangs, “If you want to know… You’ll have to play along.”