Chapter 2

Orza

This is how the soon-to-be-hero managed to leave the menial existence of Joseph Long. What happened next blew him away more than anything, more than the boot of his killer, more than he imagined even his two sisters and parents went through during their deaths. The formally-known-as Joseph met divinity.

There is no other feeling like it. It couldn't even be compared to the effects of DMT. The best description would normally be described as heavenly. The being he met with though, he was scared of it.

He couldn’t see a face, nor a body. Not that he did not feel the presence of a finite being, but this felt like far more. “Welcome,” a voice with no source entered his head. It hurt, echoing in his thoughts, wiping out any thoughts prior. He even forget how to speak for a while.

What felt like minutes, maybe hours later he found an answer to his greeting. “Wh-what happened? Where am I?” His voice makes no sound though, silent.

“You only need to think your answers, speaking will not do here.” The voice demanded in his head, echoing once again destroying everything else in his mind. “You were killed. You are in my home. Normally you would be sent along on the path of reincarnation, like most others, but I pulled your soul to my palace instead. Though your senses are useless currently, I can assure you that this place is akin to what you would believe to be heaven.”

More time passed, time he couldn’t discern the passage of. Time seemed to both fly by and stand still at once. He could finally reply once more, “What is this place?”

“I already told you. Do not repeat yourself, it wastes time,” He answered, far faster than the once was Joseph Long, still destroying his stream of thought with every word.

“Ok, what am I doing here,” Joseph asked, attempting to speed up the conversation but his thoughts seem like they were being syphoned. Each individual thought took several moments then several more just to piece together. It was agonizing trying to form a coherent sentence. That conversation seemed to last hours, time was destroyed in his mind, his senses could not perceive it.

“I called for you. I need you here to complete a mission for me. This is the only way I could bring you to my home, then send you where I need you,” The being claimed. This destroyed his calm, his brain no longer ringing at each word, but only once each time the being spoke a sentence.

“What do you mean, ‘you called for me’”? He ask, beginning to think that he was the one that had his. family and himself killed.

“I put an itch in your friend’s, if you can call him that, ear. His father was a gambler and in order to get his own family out of debt, he took your family's items. The particular gang he was helping required him to commit some of the crime too, to ensure his silence. In order to save his family, he had to kill you. Your family was quite unfortunate though. They were good people, they did not need to die. But, they can’t mourn you now, so all’s well I suppose.” The being explained, flippantly, as if life was merely a tool to be used as it pleased. He continued, “I have a job for you, a mission if you will”.

“You had me killed for your mission? Couldn’t you use anyone else for this? My family didn’t deserve this!” the has-been-Joseph was pissed, his whole life was destroyed for some desire of a monster like this. His thoughts were becoming a bit easier to connect together as they spoke, they still took ages to form a coherent sentence, but he could almost imagine that one sentence only took a day rather than a week to form.

“Yes I did. I needed you, and couldn’t wait.” His claim was unburdened by empathy for his actions.

The feeling “Joseph” got when he first became aware of this place no longer felt as heavenly, but reminded him more like what he imagined purgatory to feel like. He felt no good intentions any longer, no bad intentions either, but it no longer exemplified heaven.

He was never a big believer when he was alive, he couldn’t believe anything that has been happening for… How long have I been here? How do I leave?

“You have been here for a long while. Several weeks already. It is nearly time for you to leave. But alas I regress, will you, or won't you carry out this mission for me?” He calmly asks, as if he is giving "Joseph” a choice.

If I don't? “Joseph” muse, what's the worst you can do? Kill me?

“There are far worse things than death child, for example, torturing your soul until there is nothing left. I suggest we do this the easy way though. The way that involves you becoming a hero.”

As reluctant as “Joseph” was, he was given no choice. It was either work for this thing, or have his soul tortured. Flickering pictures of some kind of hell flashed past his mind. Fine, was his entire answer.

“Expect to hear from me in the future.” His answer to “Joseph’s” thoughts scared him. Is he a man? What is this monster even?

“I AM A GOD!” “Joseph’s” mind exploded with his scream, “ Joseph” was shaken, deformed and destroyed.

He was gone, nothing but mind.

This feeling was far more weird than even being with that self proclaimed god. He felt as if he was destroyed and reconstructed in seconds. There was no pain though, he imagined that to be the work of that being, he did preserve my mind even though my body was destroyed.

This was a terrible feeling, no body to move, no nerves to feel. It only felt like seconds had passed since he had been embodied, been with the being that claimed godhood, now he was nothing.

What is this hell? His first thought, followed by, I will never piss that guy off again given the chance. Over an eternity, his body began to shape once more. During that time he had ample time to think, ponder over everything. He even slept a bit, or so he thought, but his eyes wouldn’t work awake or not. He did remember a distinct feeling of limbs though, but he had no control over them. So, to pass the time, he thought about the issues he had been facing prior to his current predicament.

His thoughts were all confused at first. All he could think of was how he had suffered. Both of his parents, both of his siblings, himself. All of that death for a mission. Even his friend who he had his first pint with, whom he trusted with his life, until he took it; Jim could never be forgiven. He couldn’t imagine that he would ever meet him again, but at that moment “Joseph” vowed Jim would go through as much pain as Jim put him and his family through.

The next set of thoughts were of that god. Specifically his mission. What right did that monster have to take my life? That thought ran through his mind every moment for days, or weeks, he still couldn’t tell. What kind of mission is worth so much? Then a selfish part of his mind hit him, I had better be compensated, royally. Even though he couldn’t imagine what amount of riches was worth his family. He had imagined the mission he had mentioned as well. He could tell that it had to be severely important if even a god couldn’t wait for a more timely death. He couldn’t coax a car accident to happen even that would have spared “Joseph’s” family. Maybe that being is a sadist, maybe he loves death too much to ignore the chance to cause more of it.

After some time he had come to a startling realization. The reason his arms and legs couldn’t move was because they were tiny, fragile. My body a short while ago was nothing like this, or was it? He couldn't remember such a situation that his own body wouldn’t answer his thoughts. He was erratic, he moved when he wasn’t expecting to move, his body would freak out even when a small sensation occurred. His mind however would relish those sensations.

He began to work out that he was now in the body of an infant. Great, I have to endure puberty a second time too, even his thoughts were sarcastic. Though it was a curse, he had also found it a blessing. He never did try very hard in school, he also never had tried very hard in his extracurriculars. As a matter of fact, the only thing he's actually tried hard at was playing on computers and being smarter than his classmates. Of course he wasn’t more intelligent, he was merely better at finding the answers then they were.

He did learn quite a lot, he studied things most would find useless or boring. He had learned a fair amount about all kinds of things, but was an expert in nothing. Is this the kind of thing that that god wanted? No, I have a feeling that I possess some kind of skill that he was specifically searching for, but I cannot think of what that might be. Could it be that he needed a mind that could already write code? No, he would have taken someone better at it than me. Maybe I will never know. He was confused as to why that being didn’t pick someone else. I couldn’t imagine anyone else not being more fit for such a position as the one he put me into.

After all this time thinking, he had become more and more formed, more complete. He was becoming a full fledged person in the womb. This will be awkward when I am born again. His thoughts began to take the form of sleight praise to the being over this. He has given me a family, to replace the one he took. It won’t be the same, but at least he didn’t put me into a mother that would have an abortion. The mother even sometimes listened to music. She must be semi-smart at least to know that such a thing is good for a developing fetus.

He has also left my memories intact, this is maintaining the one ability I will have over those in this predicament. If he wants help, he will help me more. I wonder what else I can convince him to do for me.

His thoughts were on revenge, on the hatred and awe for that nameless being, even his thoughts on the new family that he would soon be entering all became boring. He had even attempted to work complex math problems during the rest of his imprisonment in the womb of his new mother. This seemed like a brilliant idea at first, but he didn’t know which answers he was getting right or wrong, and he was just as bored after as he was before. The biggest issue though was that he had no paper therefore nothing to write his calculations on, so it would become lost in the void of his mind after becoming semi complex.

After that, he began to imagine what he would look like. This held much greater grounds in his still developing brain. Would I be tall? Strong? What about my face? Could I have freckles, what about a big nose? This is how he spent a long, long time. He soon gave this up as well, since he couldn’t actually feel his own face, he was also kind of apprehensive. What if I look ridiculous. What if my face was still smashed, what if I am disabled?

His next attempt at entertainment was created by way of reciting stories to himself, but this did no good either. He was too impatient to follow the whole story he had read, but instead skipped to the end. This became an issue for him for a while, but one would be surprised as to how patient one becomes after nine months.

He had masterfully began reciting stories in his mind until he felt he was as good as the bards of old. Of course this was his arrogance as he had been practicing for far less than even a year, while they studied it their whole lives. His mind wandered in this way, back and forth between foolish attempts at maintaining his sanity via story or problem, or running back into the familiar hate towards deities in general and hate towards his “friend” Jim.

He had become tired at this moment, tired of waiting. No telling how long it has been since his death, but he knew it has been a long time, no more than nine months, but still, what if it had been years that he was speaking with that self proclaimed god. A final thought entered his mind at this moment, what if I am not human anymore? Elephants are in the womb for two years. Could it have been so long? Let's hope that this nameless being did not return me to the Earth as some beast with no use, even to the Hindu that kind of reincarnation would be due to bad karma, and I don’t think I was ever bad enough for that.

Just as he finished this thought he could feel it, the squeeze. Immense pressure forcing him out. Exiling him from his home of relentless boredom and ceaseless thinking. Forcing him into a new life. He became relieved to see that there was a doctor at the end of the tunnel instead of a long drop toward the bottom of a forest floor. I am human. Just then, his vision blurred and for the second time in his remembered existence, and once again he met divinity.

This time the setting was more acceptable, his mind was far less destroyed than the last time, it was also more powerful. Maybe this is due to my physical age, he thought to himself.

“Right you are child,” the disembodied voice rang through his head.

What can I call you? He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. More than anything he wanted to give a name to the faceless being that took his life, then gave him a new one.

“You can call me Orza,” The voice replied, less in his mind now, the setting was becoming more and more like that of a giant garden. A face appeared, similar to a cheshire cat, just eyes and a mouth, smiling disgustingly at him.

What do you need of me? The final question, the most important question, the best question he could think to ask.

“I need you to help me complete my quest. The details will come later. Until that time, I need you to become better at everything.” The most direct answer he assumed he would ever get came out of the face of the being. Orza became slightly more tactile, still translucent, but he had form. “You are now in a different kind of place. This place is of swords and magic, the men and women are hard and you must become tough.”

Did you bring me here to leave me without help in your mission? His selfish desires leaking out slightly, attempting to make life slightly easier for him.

“You will not need my help any more than I have already given you,” Orza answered, though his answer felt extremely insufficient.

What does that mean? He asked, genuinely curious about what gifts were given to me by Orza.

“You have talent in all things you set your mind on. This goes without saying, you must still work and learn. If you do not, then this venture is wasted. Likewise, if you are no longer sufficient for your duties, I will return you to your grave.” The threat shook him, it seems as if he didn’t do as Orza says he would kill “Joseph” again. The only solace “Joseph” would be able to claim is that he has given me the ability to prolong my usefulness.

He had noticed that this conversation lasted just a couple moments instead of taking months, or even years, as the previous conversation had. Probably since he now had a definitive form rather than being a disembodied soul, but that is inconsequential. Finally Orza uttered a sentence that left him feeling extremely odd, as if he missed something important. “I will return soon, Silent.” he could not imagine such a sentence would make any sense unless “Silent” was a noun.

Why would he call me Silent? He asked himself, the garden and Orza cut from his view far more rapidly than the last time. He left the garden as if he were waking from a dream, in fact, it may have been a dream.

At this time, he could finally discern that it was late at night. Time no longer stood still for him, days finally had meaning once again, and though it may be a while before he would gain the ability to speak, he could finally hear a voice other than his inner monologue, and that of Orza over this next period of his life. At this revelation, he was not exactly happy, but not sad either. He could feel that he could be happy in this life given time.

His eyes barely open, seeing blurred faces as he is passed from a ragtag doctor, who looked more like a random lady than a medical professional, to his new father, then to his new mother. His eyes rest on her, trying to focus hard enough to see beyond the blur of new eyes, to picture her face, but all he could really see is that she was some kind of caucasian descent, and bright blonde hair. “What is the name of your baby, sir?” The ‘doctor’ asked his new father. His ears are new, powerful enough to understand a little of what they were saying. The language is very similar to english, more of the American english than my homeland’s, but I can work with it, adapt to it. This may be the talent that I was given by Orza.

“His Name Is Silent, Silent Black.” The man’s voice from beside the-now-Silent’s cozy nest in his new mother’s bosom claimed.

Odd, I guess my surname is now Black, but my given name is rather unique. I don’t know if this will be good or bad, he thinks, just before he realizes that he is already needing rest again.