Puss In Bytes

By Sansoucy Kathenor

Unworshipped, most of the old gods have died off, or live an attenuated existence on the manna that drifts into Allhome from the undirected spiritual yearnings of twenty-first century mortals. Messenger godling Iris, however, has managed not only to survive by being useful, but also to upgrade herself to Communications Goddess, becoming patron of computer users in particular. But before she can become securely established, her position is sabotaged by the upstart new god Hacker, who has been created by the enthusiasm of computer vandals.

At a loss over how to defend herself against this vermin, Iris turns to her friend Pakht, the Cat Goddess, who is an expert in exterminating vermin. Pakht has spent the past thousand years away from Earth, so she is largely unfamiliar with the modern world. But she agrees to help Iris, partly out of the desire to be useful and thus prolong her own existence.

Pakht locates Hacker by issuing a challenge through a recording angel. Hacker counter-challenges Pakht and Iris, proposing a deadly game: if they can discover and stop his latest secret Project to induce chaos on Earth, while spending the next ten days living on Earth without benefit of power drawn from Allhome, he will tacitly admit the old gods are not utter has-beens, and will pay the forfeit of providing anti-virus protection. If they lose, he will take all their remaining manna — in effect, their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie D Kirkwood
• Release date: Feb 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987903112

Sansoucy Kathenor

SF Canada member Sansoucy Kathenor was the author of several successfully published short stories and a book of poetry (Temple Into Time), and was a Writers of the Future runner-up in 1985. She was the founder of the Lyngarde Writers Group in Ottawa, which is now in its third decade. Kathenor died peacefully at her home in Ottawa on Saturday, November 5, 2005. Her Literary Executors are in the process of publishing her completed works including an epic SF trilogy, short stories and poetry. Her wit and honest literary criticism are sorely missed by her friends and colleagues.

Book preview

PUSS IN BYTES

by

Sansoucy Kathenor

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

Published by Valerie D. Kirkwood on Smashwords

Puss In Bytes

Copyright © 2012 by Valerie D. Kirkwood

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*****

Puss In Bytes

Chapter One

...Whose pupils of dark-green/ Showed every color seen/ In the bow which splendidly/ Arches the rainy sky. — Joachim du Bellay (1525-1560)

The goddess Iris rose with abrupt grace from her chair, took a deep breath, swept back her disheveled blonde curls, and kicked her computer stand.

Everlasting darkness take all mischief gods, she snarled, and stalked out of her villa, her furious strides swirling the misty pastels of her ankle-length gown. Hacker, curse him, has done it this time!

Almost blindly at first, she walked through the streets, parks, and countryside of Allhome, past a scatter of formal temples, grass huts, skyscrapers, pleasure domes, artistic ruins, mansions, and split-level bungalows, until her steps and thoughts were interrupted by the sauntering passage of a lynx across her path. Her gaze followed it to its destination, a low-rise palace of buff-coloured sandstone, in whose broad, paved courtyard a dozen assorted small cats were sunning themselves.

Her expression relaxing, Iris watched a silver tabby batting a fluttering leaf around, and a scamper of Burmilla kittens chasing one another among low shrubs. Lying at ease in the middle of the path, a black Persian and a Turkish Van were washing each other, each determinedly insisting on licking the other’s face, resulting in the occasional clash of tongues. Beyond them, a Singapura took a half-hearted swipe at the passing lynx, then thought better of it. On the stone edging of a raised garden to the side, a trio of haughtily poised seal point Siamese were watching with apparently absorbed fascination as a cheetah kitten and a Pampas cat below them wrestled half-heartedly for possession of the shady corner.

So Pakht is here again, murmured Iris. That should liven up Allhome a bit. I wonder — She might know how I can put some pressure on that little louse... If I can get her interested. That shouldn’t be hard, with her curiosity. And she’s friendly enough, as long as you don’t ruffle her dignity or hurt a cat.

Making up her mind, Iris crossed the sunny courtyard, picking her way through it carefully to avoid stepping on any unwary tails, and entered the open door of the low, sprawling palace.

A tiger and a saber-tooth flanking the doorway ignored her elaborately, but an ocelot got up and paced ahead of her along a hallway. Iris followed it out onto a terrace overlooking a crystal-blue lake, where an elegantly beautiful woman with long, smooth, black hair lay half-curled on a dusky rose plush-upholstered couch, with a bronze-mackerel Mau in the crook of her knees and a lavender Somali snuggled under her chin, all three dozing in the hot sun. A pleasantly cool breeze brought drifts of summer flower scents. The ocelot made a soft sound, then turned and padded back to door duty.

The woman opened deep green eyes, the pupils contracting sharply in the sunlight, and regarded her visitor with instant alertness. You’re Iris, are you not? One of the messengers. I believe we’ve met a few times, in the old days.

Iris nodded. Actually, I’ve been upgraded since then. I’m Communications Goddess now.

Congratulations, said Pakht warmly. And do you have a mess — a communication for me?

Iris suspected there was a touch of gentle teasing in that, since Pakht was notoriously playful, but the humor was friendly, and welcome from this ancient Goddess. Iris smiled brief acknowledgement, then shook her head. No, I just dropped in on spec. I was trying to walk off a terabyte of frustration when I noticed that your palace was occupied again.

Pakht nodded. You felt an oasis of calm in the complete self-absorption of my cats, and felt soothed. It happens to the receptive.

Well, not exactly. I mean, yeah, I did feel better as I watched them. But I came in because it occurred to me that wiping out vermin is your specialty, and I’ve got a problem with a sort of vermin.

Pakht looked interested. She extricated herself from the two cuddling cats, stretched gracefully, and swung off the couch, her white, pleated, linen-look gown falling out of its creases as she did so. The two cats expressed disgruntlement, but promptly seized the chance to occupy the center of the couch.

Sit down and tell me how I can help you. Will you take some wine? Smoothing her hair in an absent gesture, Pakht moved toward the little carved ebony table where a spiral-fluted decanter and glasses stood. Both of the chairs beside it were occupied, one by a blue Korat and a sorrel Bengal and the other by a tumble of jaguarondi kittens. Pakht gently scooped the four kittens onto the couch beside the Mau and the Somali (who graciously allowed them to form a warm border to the coveted central position) then chirruped to the cats on the second chair. They jumped down and sauntered off with an air of having just thought of something much more interesting to do.

Iris took one of the vacated chairs, shaking her head with a smile. Even knowing you’re a cat goddess, I can’t get over seeing cats obey. How do you do it?

Pakht shrugged. It gives them even more pleasure to do my will than to follow their own whims. It’s in the nature of our existence, theirs and mine.

She poured the wine and handed a glass to Iris. Be careful. I find wine is stronger nowadays than before I left.

No problem. I go to Earth a lot, and the stuff they’ve got there now makes wine seem weak as rainwater. Weaker than some of Earth’s rainwater, come to think of it. She paused to sip and praise the wine, then began, I’m not sure how much briefing you need. Rumor says you’ve been off in some of the glory-holes hobnobbing with after-lifers for a kiloyear or so...

Pakht looked mildly pained, and her precision of speech increased. Yes, I have been visiting several of the Heavens. When the mortals on Earth began persecuting my cats, and I wasn’t allowed to save them by slaughtering all the humans, I couldn’t bear to stay and watch the torture.

She sat down and picked up her own glass. But after a few centuries even a variety of Heavens becomes boring, and I heard that the worst of the persecution was over, so I thought I’d come back. But... She frowned. I may have made a mistake, staying away from Earth for so long. With only my cats’ worship to sustain me, I seem to have lost energy and initiative.

It’s not your glory-hole dallying. All the old deities are fading to black unless they can drum up some new worship. Lots are already faint ghosts, with nothing keeping them from the big delete but a few scholars mumbling over their histories. And some of the more obscure gods were erased before they could access even that much interest.

Concern animated Pakht’s expressive face. Then this isn’t just a temporary weakening?

No way. A few of the old gods are still thriving — the war gods seem indestructible — but for most of us, it’s a case of finding a new bandwagon or going the way of the dodo.

What do you mean, bandwagon?

That old human craving to worship is still going strong, and a few of the old-timers have been bright enough to redefine themselves so they can become patrons of something in modern life. For instance, one of my own crowd, Hestia, switched from hearths to furnaces, and now she’s trying to get in on heat pumps and solar heating. Tlalac — he’s a mountain god from South America — is offering his services to snow machine operators in ski resorts. Several wind and heat gods are competing to represent politicians. But some of the deities were too generic to fit any of the new roles available, or they just didn’t take the gamble fast enough, so lots of the new niches have generated brand new gods.

What are the newcomers like?

Good, poor, and you don’t want to know. Just like the old ones, but without the class.

How powerful are they?

Pretty spindly, mostly, except for the chief one. He’s called Almighty Dollar, and he’s got a finger in everything.

You yourself appear to be still lively, and you say you’ve even been promoted. How did you survive so well?

All my centuries of being only a messenger godling paid off. My existence depended on my being of service to other deities, not on direct worship. So as long as I found ways to be useful, so I was A-okay. And I stayed current in my field by trying out everything new the mortals invented — telegraph, radio, satellites. Naturally, the more important communication became on Earth, the higher my status rose.

She put down her glass and waved away a refill. But my position isn’t stable yet. Modern mortals don’t recognize their enthusiasms as a form of worship, so they don’t direct it properly, and I have to grab what I can get before it passes into the general supply. And things are moving so fast on Earth now that I also have to watch out that I don’t become obsolete even before I’m fully established. In fact, I hop down to Earth every now and then to check out the leading edge, instead of waiting for changes to percolate into being up here. By the way, have you gone real-time?

Have I what?

Are you updated on Earth?

Pakht sighed. Must you use so much slang and jargon, Iris? It’s inelegant, and since it changes too fast to be worth learning, it can be confusing.

If you think the bit I use is confusing, you should hear what some of the humans are doing to their languages! If I threw their talk at you, you’d think I was out of my tree. Lower those eyebrows, I’ll hold it down. But it would help if you’d do a language transformation and assimilate a modern vocabulary, so I don’t have to — she took a breath — discourse in elegant but outdated phraseology, replete with acrobatic circumlocutions, in order to undertake a discussion of concepts that lack referents in older terminology. If you catch my drift?

Pakht sighed again. Very well. But I don’t promise to use the slang. ...There. To answer your question, naturally I’ve been curious enough to investigate what humans have produced for us. I’ve even adopted some of the new things — She touched the fabric of her dress — but I haven’t had the time or energy to become familiar with all of this technology they’ve developed as a way of life.

Yeah, I can see weakness would slow down even your curiosity. Well, do you know what computers are?

Devices for calculating and for storing records.

And for communicating, which brings them into my field. I’ve installed a system of them here in Allhome, but fallout from Hacker’s legions on Earth keeps leaking into my network. You know, everything they invent on Earth shows up here, so no matter how often I debug the system I keep getting more worms and viruses. She touched her short golden ringlets. It’s a good thing I can restore the hair I’ve been tearing out.

Who is Hacker?

A new mischief god, patron of the prank players and vicious malcontents who like to ruin the work others do on their computers. Gives their nasty little souls a sense of power. The name originally meant a computer enthusiast who liked to experiment. When some of them turned rotten, so did the term. Now we call the honest and helpful computer whizzes hikers instead.

Pakht sniffed with dainty contempt. My creators were too fond of order to invent a mischief god, but I’ve met one or two from other cultures, Loki and Coyote, for instance. I didn’t like them. Wanton destructiveness and vandalism and malicious damage.

Right on. Hacker loves to scramble or vaporize all the work other people have done. When my system first started crashing, I beamed him a request to immunize my network, but all I got back was a rude graphic. I finally got so mad I’ve been thinking of transforming myself into an electron packet and going through the system to have it out with him face to face. But I’m a communicator, not a hitman. I wouldn’t know how to lean on him. He’d probably just tell me to take a hike into the nearest endless loop. Then today, when I noticed you were back, I remembered you’re a hunter, and wondered if you’d advise me...

Or join the hunt? Pakht smiled.

Would you? cried Iris. Wow! The most I hoped for was a crash course in dealing with vermin. If there’s anything I can do for you in return, just name it. If I can’t communicate, poof goes my existence. Running around in person with messages just can’t cut it, anymore.

No need for a return favor. Hunting is my pleasure and eliminating vermin my function, and this Hacker seems to be like a rat fouling a grain store. Besides, being useful should prolong my existence, and give me back some initiative.

Great. How do we start? I haven’t even been able to pin down Hacker’s location, let alone make him see reason.

Pakht shrugged. You’re too gentle, Iris. Reason doesn’t appeal to the vandal, but challenges do. She raised her eyes to the air above her. I summon a recording angel!

With a little pop a small winged man in an open-necked shirt and corduroy pants tucked into soft leather half-boots appeared at eye level. He said, Oops! and vanished and reappeared with two more snaps of the air. You might give a fellow a bit of warning, he complained, waving a video camera. I forgot my camcorder. His half-meter form dangling nonchalantly in mid-air, he swung the camera around the scene, yanking up his legs as a kitten on the sofa woke up and took a playful swipe at them. Then he focused the camcorder on the two goddesses. Well? What’ll it be?

We issue formal challenge to the upstart and incompetent godling Hacker, said Pakht, bestowing an arrogant look on the recording. To match wits, if he has any.

Chapter 2

You can have no more of the cat than the skin. — English folk saying

Right, said the angel. I’ll put out an APB. He popped out of existence again.

Iris answered Pakht’s raised eyebrows with, An all-points bulletin, then went on, Do you think Hacker will bite?

If he doesn’t, we’ll think up something even more insulting to goad him with. Meanwhile, show me this computer system of yours.

You got it. Iris glanced around. You’re a bit shy on terminals, I see, so we’ll have to transform something. What can you do without for a while?

Pakht also looked around. The Mau promptly jumped off the couch and eeled under it. Pakht laughed. She has a guilty conscience today. She stole some fish this morning. No, little one, I won’t transform any of you. I love you even when you’re naughty. She gestured at a stone planter bearing a fragrant mass of cream and yellow flowers. Will that do?

Sure. Iris concentrated, and in a moment a computer and peripherals, on sleek metal stands, appeared in place of the planter.

Pakht looked at the objects, frowned slightly, and concentrated in turn. The supporting stands became gracefully carved oak tables.

Iris grinned. Okay, if your aesthetic sense is satisfied, let’s get the show on the road. The best way is to go in for a look.

Inside the computer? As a pair of those electron packets you spoke of?

Right on. So link minds, and follow me through the transformation.

I am ready.

Iris dematerialized, entered the computer, and waited. She supposed that this type of transformation was something new for Pakht. Fortunately, here in Allhome learning and transformations were easy, and there was no tricky need to conceal actions, the way they had to nowadays when they were on Earth. In a few seconds, Pakht joined her.

Within the system, the two goddesses saw each other as their usual forms, and the circuitry as wide hallways. They strolled along these, Iris pointing out the functions of the different parts.

Pakht sniffed at the bare, utilitarian look of the metal corridors, but let them stay as Iris had visualized them, putting her attention on her guide’s information.

...And that double door over there is an AND Gate. Be careful of that kind. If you go in, the exit won’t unlock until another body goes through the entry door. That room, full of carts and trolleys, is an accumulator. Over here we have —

There was a sudden flash of light and explosive sound. Iris jumped, then cursed as she recognized the person who appeared there. Hacker! Trust you to add fireworks to an appearance!

Pakht straightened from a reflexive crouch and transformed claws back into nails. You’re prompt.

Hacker’s form was that of a gangling young man with lank and untidy hair. He wore sneakers, jeans, and a tee-shirt imprinted, Chaos forever, all rather scruffy. With a smile that excluded his audience, he remarked, Whatever gooses the ether, I’m flit of it.

Even Iris looked slightly puzzled. She muttered, I must get an update.

Hacker surveyed them. So, you no-ops want a game, do you? That’s up with me, if you can hit my baud rate.

I think, said Iris, that’s he’s accepting the challenge.

If you’ll put up gigaworth as a bet, said Hacker.

Pakht surveyed him appraisingly. What terms do you want?

It’s your challenge, so you input first. What are you after?

Iris said, I want you to immunize my network against all the viruses, logic bombs, and other killer programs that diffuse here from your followers on Earth.

There isn’t any general immunity; my people are too ingenious. But I could send you the vaccines for every new agitator they think up.

Iris sighed. If that’s the best you can do, I’ll accept that.

If you win.

She nodded. And if I lose?

You give me your personal manna.

Pakht said sharply, You can’t ask that. She’d die. She isn’t well enough established yet as communications goddess to be recreated by worshipers.

Hacker shrugged. She’ll be wiped anyway, if she can’t stay on-line.

But it’s not a fair bet, to ask her to risk so much more than you are: her life against a trifling service on your part.

So who cares about fair? Hacker shrugged. Anyway, I’m offering her what she wants. You’d rather have my life? What would that get her? I’d be rebooted the instant I died. My followers are mean and keen. They want me.

I’m not suggesting you even the bet up with your life. I think you should even it down by asking less of Iris.

Skud the haggling, Alley-cat. She’s the one who wants to rewrite her program. So trash the complaints and log off, or scroll on and give me some sport.

You call it sport to watch a fellow-deity die, without lifting a finger?

I am lifting a finger. Hacker solemnly raised his middle finger. I’m giving her a chance. No surge through my circuits if she’s out of her class. So what do you say, Color-job?

Iris took a deep breath. You’re on, Hacker.

And what about you, Slant-Eyes? If you’re crunching numbers for Wishy-washy here, you’ll have to macro the same risk.

Agreed.

Hacker grinned. There may be enough nutty cat-lovers to put a few bytes of manna back into you when you lose, but it’ll be fun to see you creeping around as a near-ghost.

What degenerate tastes you newcomers have, remarked Pakht. You were right, Iris, to call them lower-class.

Hacker snarled, Where do you get off, sneering at us? You ancients went in for human sacrifice.

The very ancients. Before our time. Pakht patted a dainty yawn. We are the product of the golden age, lying between savagery and decadence. Recent gods are merely vulgar.

Hacker rose to the taunt. You washed-up antiques make me puke! Claiming you’re better than we are just because you’re The Establishment! In his anger, he dropped his affected jargon. You keep trying to hang onto power, when you can barely hang onto life, huddling here in Allhome, scrounging for manna from the common supply, afraid to venture out and do anything! Not that you could, if you tried!

Regaining some composure, he tossed back a straggling lock of hair that had fallen over his face. Easy enough to guide mortals when they were nothing but peasants and their simple-minded kings, but nowadays it takes brains to run them! Brains like mine! You couldn’t even survive on modern Earth, let alone shape events there!

Your colossal brain doesn’t seem to have grasped the fact that Iris has frequently visited modern Earth, and her status has been improving, not deteriorating.

Visits! A quick peek and a frantic scuttle back to Allhome. You couldn’t survive living there.

If you can, we can. We have, after all, centuries more experience in dealing with humans.

Experience in ruling by Authority! Well, Authority doesn’t cut it anymore. They don’t even believe in you, let alone respect you! And you can’t kill off the ones you don’t like, nowadays. So you’ve got to manoeuver them. And that takes brains, not your snooty rules. You pitiful fools wouldn’t last ten days on modern Earth!

Are you sure enough of that to make it the object of our bet?

Hacker hesitated a moment, apparently realizing he had been maneuvered, but he recovered promptly, twisting Pakht’s suggestion. Sure, that can be part of the parameters of the bet. You have to stay on Earth while you try to discover and stop my big Project. If you can’t stop me, or if you run back to Allhome for help, you lose.

Iris winced. Pakht’s gambit had just cost them the chance to use any of Allhome’s resources, which included the chance to draw on the common store of manna, of which Allhome still had plenty, since mortals kept generating unlimited quantities of unfocused worship, in all their vague philosophies, ideologies, and just plain wants. The undirected manna drifted to Allhome and kept the place in good shape. Those gods with enough reality left to make the effort could absorb energy from the reservoir — a reversal from the old days when that reservoir was filled with the overflow from the individual gods. But Hacker had managed to put that supply out of their reach. They would be dependent on what they could gather directly on Earth, and, unlike Hacker, neither goddess had steady, abundant manna flowing into her from fanatically devoted followers, although Iris’s future looked bright, with the number of smart phones burgeoning. Still, the gamble would have paid off, if Pakht had been able to hold the bet down to survival. She was right to tackle Hacker by his vanity. It was as great a weakness as his cleverness was a strength.

Iris knew that Pakht would have made the same assessment, but the cat goddess gave no outward sign of noticing a set-back. She smoothly continued her needling. We already know you’re a braggart, Hacker, so when you speak of a big project, we can guess you really mean one that anyone else would call a moment’s pastime.

Hacker scowled, then shrugged and looked smug. Don’t you wish! Well, you’ll see big. He shifted back into his affected speech. I’ve got a krik going that’ll knock the RAM out of everyone on Earth — or enough of them as makes no difference. It’s gonzo, rezzers, it’s gonzo!

It always is, said Iris tartly, consciously imitating Pakht’s air of bored contempt. But every attack you inspire your hackers to think up is promptly counteracted by the hacker-hunters.

Not this one! Hacker laughed. Their brains’ll be too scrambled to fight back till I’ve had my fun.

Pakht shrugged. Your idea of fun seems to be on the level of sending rude messages. A big project would be sending them all over the world.

That’s about his speed, agreed Iris. And even at that, it’s already been done.

Of course. How could an ignorant newcomer like him recognize what’s trite or trifling?

It’s you has-beens that are trite. It takes a newcomer like me to think up something new, and a brain like mine to figure out how to do it!

If your brain has figured it out, said Pakht, we know it’s petty, however much you boast, because you are petty.

Petty? Do you realize that I could incite my followers to destroy the whole world if I wanted to? You old fools may have wrecked a few nations with your earthquakes and floods and plagues, but you never had masses of nuclear weapons you could set off.

Is that what you intend? Has it occurred to your vaunted brain that if you destroy Earth, you won’t have a playground left? Or any mortals to worship you? Even the war gods haven’t got that carried away, and they’re about as mindless as any deity yet created.

Of course I’m not going to set them off. But I could. That’s real power. You think of that while you’re struggling just to survive.

Pakht smiled. According to you, we won’t be able to spare the energy to think about anything but that survival.

Not on Earth. But you’ll scurry back to Allhome, if you live long enough to get back. Now stop wasting my time. You want this bet or don’t you? Log on or zap out!

Pakht tilted her sleek dark head upward. Recording angel!

The same winged figure popped into view, this time fully equipped, but no happier than before. Oof! Are you guys all crazy? What’s with this microworld? Don’t you ever give a guy notice?

Never mind the complaints. Record!

The angel sighed. Yes, ma’am. What is it this time?

Terms of a challenge. Carefully and fully, she gave the details, concluding, ...If we spoil or expose or counteract Hacker’s little plot, which he must declare to you today...

On sealed record, put in Hacker.

Pakht nodded and went on, ...or hold him off from completing or reinstalling it by the end of our ten-day visit to Earth, we win.

Hacker cut in again. And if my chaos conditions are thriving at the end of that time, you lose the bet and your lives.

Hoo, boy! murmured the angel. Haven’t had a death-duel up here since mortals stopped burning each other over religion and switched to ideology killings.

Pakht ignored both of them and went on. ...none of us being allowed to use Allhome facilities during this time —

I said you couldn’t! objected Hacker.

Do you mean that you need that assistance, even though we don’t? Pakht’s eyebrows were eloquent.

Of course not!

Then — ?

Oh, let it run.

Pakht completed her meticulous recounting of conditions.

Okay, got it. The angel, slewing his camcorder, asked each person in turn, So be it?

So be it, each repeated.

Done. What a gig. Think I’ll get a bet or two down myself, with the other RAs, and see if I can win me some extra off-duty time, so I can watch more Earth shows. Er, educational stuff, of course. He hastily popped out.

A moment later he jumped back in again. Hey, if you guys want anything more recorded on this bet, call for me personally. I want to be the first to know everything. When no one asked, he added pointedly, My name’s Dace. He looked smug. It means ‘of the nobility.’ Pretty nifty, huh? When he still got no response, he sighed and said, Okay, I’ll go through channels, and apply for one of the watches over your compliance. Be seeing you. He departed again, with a crestfallen half-hearted pop.

Not bothering to say goodbye or to repeat the theatrics of his arrival, Hacker also vanished.

Chapter 3

Wait to see which way the cat jumps. — English folk saying

What are we going to do? asked Iris. As the excitement of confrontation faded, she began to feel overwhelmed by the challenge set for them. Should we rush down to Earth, so we can start our stay and our hunt before Hacker can get any further on his Project?

Pakht shook her head, her silky dark hair swinging gently. That’s the third thing we’ll do.

What’s first and second?

First, we finish this tour. If we’re going to be dealing with computers, I had better know as much as I can learn about them.

That flies with me. And next?

We use a little ancient lore that Hacker probably won’t even think of: we consult an oracle. Your people had some good ones, did they not?

I question your use of the word good. An oracle’s about as trustworthy as a half-wiped hard drive. They never really tell you what’s going to happen, only what looks good in hindsight.

As long as there’s free will in the universe, no one can tell the future with certainty.

Spot on. Even the Fates can only connive. They get thwarted now and then.

"But they do connive. And they are said to hate hubris, which Hacker has in abundance. So they could well be creating possibilities for his defeat. It may not have been entirely chance that led you to consult me. When you walked at random, The Fates may have seized the chance to subtly lead you here, to start a chain of circumstances they have planned. The oracle