Everlife: The Evernow Canticles, #1

By Alex S. Garcia

A magician, an alien mask, thousands of gods... What could possibly go wrong?

 

Born an orphan and known throughout the empire as a powerful magician, Paul is on a lifelong quest to find answers about his past.

 

Jack is a historian obsessed with the famous Face of Xian--an alien mask which has puzzled the universe for thousands of years. An obsession his friends can't understand, and which he himself cannot explain.

 

Along with a detective, an archaeologist, and others, their destinies cross on a world brimming with alien artifacts. A world where thousands of gods walk among men, and where fanatics consider offworlders as heretics and raiders.

 

Some might call this a recipe for disaster, and they'd be right.

 

NOTE: Though this book is the first in a series, it has no cliffhanger and can be read on its own.

 

READER ADVISORY WARNINGS

 

1) There are elements of horror in this story. Not enough to warrant tagging it as a genre, but enough to warrant this warning.

 

2) There is ONE rather graphic scene (more gross than gruesome), toward the end.

 

3) There is some mild nudity, but NO sexual content. I'm not even sure it's worth mentioning, but when in doubt, I prefer to err on the side of caution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ASG Worlds
• Release date: Sep 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9782493671219

Book preview

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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

EVERLIFE

Copyright (c) 2022 by Alex S. Garcia.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Published by Paradox Blue – an imprint of ASG Worlds.

First Edition: September 2022.

-----------------------------------

To all those who’ve believed in me over the years... it’s been a long road, but here we are.

To the late Roger Zelazny, whose books had a huge impact on me.

And, last but not least, to Tam. Hope you like this!

PART I

1.

He woke up to the realization that he was falling. The experience was unexpected and somewhat unsettling.

His senses were numb, and his vision was blurred. There was a bitter taste on his tongue that he could not identify. He tried to move his legs and arms, but all refused to budge—not that they would have been of much use, all things considered.

From the symptoms, he guessed some poisonous drug coursed through his bloodstream.

He saw the ground approaching fast, but there was no fear in him.

Only a pressing need to understand.

He closed his eyes to focus on the last things he remembered: the soft hum of a paused TriVid screen, the swirling colors of an approaching ship, and the warmth of the Exudian sun on his skin.

Someone was there with him, too. He could see the blurred outlines of a smiling face, though he could not put a name to it. A woman, he felt.

And in a flash, it all came back to him...

Damn! he said as he hit the ground.

2.

After so many failed attempts, Will knew it just couldn’t be done. If it could, it would have happened a long time ago. No way around it. And yet, he couldn’t sway his friend.

There is a first time for everything, isn’t there? said Jack.

Not unless something succeeds.

But that’s my point...

No, actually, said Will, it’s mine.

Does that mean we agree?

Not really.

Oh.

Will looked up at the sky—streaked with strands of violet and sand—where ships hovered, ready to land.

You think he’s on one of those? asked Jack.

He promised.

They fell quiet as they entered the spaceport. It had been four years since they’d seen him—Zermond the Hermit, as others now called him. They had kept in touch through TriVid, and holovisor calls, but he had been traveling continuously throughout the Weld.

The man at the security check scanned their retinas, keyed some codes in, then let them pass with a curt nod.

As they approached the large plexiglass screen that showed the debarking passengers, Jack became restless.

If anyone can do it, he whispered, it’s him.

Will sighed. He was growing weary of the argument and was reluctant to answer. The camera saved him the trouble when it caught the distant silhouette of their friend, walking through the crowd, and straight toward them.

***

Homicide? I thought John’s death was a suicide?

Detective Ward was a short, dark-haired man with unsettling green eyes and a thick Giccurri accent. He leaned over his partner’s shoulder to look at the victim’s friend.

We found new evidence, he said as he stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation. He glanced around, considering the velvet curtains, the gold-rimmed mirror, the antique and exotic furniture... The autopsy report revealed he took drugs just a few minutes before his death.

"Well, then it must have been an accident!"

Ward stopped in his steps and turned to face the younger man. He quirked a brow as he studied him, then asked: And how do you figure that?

The drug most likely drove him mad. He must not have known what he was doing, and just jumped off the balcony...

The detective started for a nearby door and reached for the knob.

May I? he asked, but did not wait for an answer. As it swung open, he noticed from the corner of his eye that Brown was entering another room. He continued before the man could raise any objection—or notice his partner’s activity: Did he often take drugs?

His host seemed about to answer, but paused and blinked, then frowned. Well... Perhaps it was his first time. That could just as easily explain how it all got so out of hand. Hey, what exactly are you looking for here?

The new room was smaller, though as lavishly furnished as the previous. Obviously an office, with a dark ebony desk set against the far wall—covered with piles of books, trinkets, and a doctor’s paraphernalia.

His arms and legs were paralyzed. Ward turned to face the victim’s friend and smiled. Care to explain how he could have walked to the balcony and jumped off? As no answer came, he stepped out of the small office and considered the paintings on the walls. Do you have any drugs in your house, Dr. Wilcox? he asked of the still stunned man.

Only legal ones. And for medical purposes, of course.

Of course. And can any of these provoke the symptoms I have described?

I’m not sure I like what you are implying, detective.

I am not implying anything. Merely doing my job.

I think you should leave now... Wilcox tensed as he looked around. Hey! Where is your partner?

A calm voice came from behind him: I am right here, doctor.

The man jumped and turned to face the tall blonde detective. If you have any more questions, please refer to my lawyer. I will have his contact information sent to your office.

The two detectives smiled as they walked out.

3.

It was well known he had a temper, and I was concerned how he might react to my tardiness. And yet, I could not help but freeze in my steps when I saw it. In the middle of the garden, I stared in disbelief at the familiar face of the statue—which seemed to stare right back at me. I hadn’t seen her in centuries, but the likeness was stunning.

With some difficulty, I pulled myself from the spell and continued toward the mansion.

It spread across two square miles and rose a hundred feet into the air. The walls were bright white, gleaming under the Sun. Despite the feel of unreal, it seemed only proper for one of such standing as its owner.

The servant who answered the door informed me his master was waiting for me at the pool.

I found him sitting at a table, in the middle of a holovisor call. He waved at me and paused his conversation as I approached.

I trust you had a pleasant trip? he asked without standing, fingers pressed against his temple—waiting to reconnect the call.

As he did not stand to greet me, I bent down in a short but respectful bow.

I did, but—

He lifted a hand to hush me and started talking with his correspondent again.

It matters not, Ekhil, it still needs to be done. But we’ll have to finish this later. One of my guests has arrived.

He cut the call and looked at me. So. You are here.

I’m so sorry I’m late, Uncle. My glider’s AI was dysfunctional and there were many... well, incidents on the way.

He smiled. Don’t worry about it. We have all the time in the world.

I was very curious why the venerable Rakash had summoned me, but I dared not ask. I was certain he would broach the subject himself when he felt it appropriate.

Would you like a drink? he asked as a servant approached.

If it is not too much trouble...

None at all, he said as he sent the human to bring us two glasses.

It is truly an honor to meet you, Rakash, I finally said. I have been looking forward to this for a long time.

His smile widened as his fingers played with the pendant that hung around his neck.

And yet, you strolled through the park and stopped to admire my Julia.

I had forgotten you knew her...

Didn’t everyone?

Not everyone has a statue of her in their garden, I remarked.

She was like a daughter to me. She often mentioned you, you know.

I... did not know this. I looked down. I suspect it must not have been too flattering.

On the contrary. She was very fond of you. He smiled. But you already knew that.

I suspected it. Though I always found it difficult to read her... She was not like the other humans.

She accepted us for what we are. Without ever attempting to change us, or to guilt us. There are not many who are willing to do so.

No, there are not.

Our drinks arrived. I sipped from mine quietly.

I hope the troubles with your AI were not too inconveniencing? he asked.

No. It is just frustrating not to have any control over a situation when you are used to having control... I so dislike being late.

That’s quite alright. It’s not as if we have anything important to discuss.

It suddenly struck me he was furious. Though I had not sensed it, there had been venom in his eyes and in his words right from the start.

Feeling my apologies were only fueling his anger, I decided to keep quiet.

So we sat there in silence for a moment—me restless, he careless and superb.

***

Michael stopped reading the journal, a frown on his face. This was not helping one bit.

He flipped quickly through the pile of ancient leaflets, but there was no way to tell which might contain the vital information he sought.

You’ll have to read them all, snickered his friend Don.

He sighed. It’s looking that way.

Is it that boring?

No, actually, it’s intriguing... but I need to find an answer before the end of the week, or the expedition will be canceled.

They had rented a room in the most luxurious hotel in the Qojjan capital. Their suit had a stunning view over the city and, beyond, the Vlanic Ocean.

Well, I’m sure you’ll work it out. Gotta go.

Hot date?

You better believe it! laughed Don as he rushed out.

The journal had been found three months ago in Annarset, a small village on the eastern coast of the continent. Of all places, a villager had dug it out from an abandoned mine.

Reading through the first pages, Michael had quickly understood its significance. These were fragments from a centuries-old diary of an inhabitant of the fabled city of Ahuaxa. He was certain of it because of numerous references to distinctive landmarks that were well known as belonging to the city of the gods.

Based on this—and his conviction there would be hints of its location within—, he had convinced his superiors to finance an expedition into the jungle that spread beyond the village where the document had been found. He’d always thought it to be the most likely site—this new finding only reinforced his belief.

When the academy’s rector had realized, a few days ago, that he didn’t actually know where the city was, he had been furious. It’s not like Michael had said that he did, but admittedly he had been vague and probably phrased things in such a way as to imply that he did. Not on purpose, of course... at least, that’s what he told himself.

The rector had given him an ultimatum: find a specific location, or the expedition was off!

With another sigh, Michael started reading again.

4.

Would you try, if I asked?

The three men had set out at dawn. They hadn’t seen each other in years, so Will had suggested they go hiking. It was something they had enjoyed doing when they were kids, so he thought it would be a good way for them to reconnect.

It was fascinating how quickly they fell back into their old habits, as if no time had passed at all. They did not even need to talk, knowing all the gestures the others would do every time they came across an obstacle.

They had been at it for two hours now, with very little talk as they focused on reaching the peak... but now Jack had come out of his silence to ask the dreaded question.

Try what? asked Paul.

Jack would want you to do the impossible, muttered Will.

Hardly. Besides, what’s the harm in trying?

What is this about, guys?

It was the most the three had talked since they had set off that morning.

Well, said Jack, it’s like this. There’s this mask that has been puzzling the whole planet for hundreds of years...

Ah. The Face of Xian. Yes. I’ve heard of it.

Right. So, as you might know, many people have tried to pluck it off the wall it’s embedded in, but to no avail. I think you could pull it off, though.

Magic has been tried before, remarked Will. It just can’t be done.

Stop being so negative! snapped Jack. "Paul is unique. We can’t know for sure unless he tries. Besides, there has to be a way to remove it, so why not this?"

They all fell quiet as they continued their trekking.

It was only an hour later, after they finally reached their destination and were resting by a stream, that Paul finally responded.

I’ve heard its texture will sometimes change?

Jack nodded. Yes. It is quite curious. I’ve watched it for hours. I only saw it happen once. Most of the time, it’s all solid rock. But every once in a while... it’s like it comes to life. It lights up with swirling colors. Its surface becomes warm, porous, and soft—very skin-like.

Have people tried to grab it in both states?

They have, said Will. Nothing works. As if it were an integral part of the wall, even when it’s more alive. He shuddered at the thought. It’s really creepy, if you ask me.

Our friend here, snickered Jack, thinks there is a curse on it. Those things don’t exist.

They do, actually, calmly said Paul. But they are rare.

Jack looked skeptical. Well, I doubt there’s anything like that involved here.

Why not?

There’s no magic in this world, he tried to reason. It’s all technology and maths and logic...

That’s not true, chimed in Will. You forget all those gods... that comes with a fair amount of mysticism.

Jack shrugged. That’s all just hogwash. The ravings of fanatics. Doesn’t mean there’s any magic.

Just because you don’t see it, remarked Paul, doesn’t mean it’s not there.

As if to prove his point, he waved his hand above the water, and the spot under his palm boiled and bubbled. It stopped as soon as he pulled away.

"But you did that, said Jack. You brought the magic with you."

Paul quirked a brow.

Did I?

***

While it was true each world was different, there was always some form of energy one could tap into to make magic happen.

Though Paul never liked the term. To him, it was just a different form of science. Simply, instead of understanding why the stars shone, or how gravity worked, he understood how to manipulate those energy flows to obtain specific results. There was nothing magical about it.

As he walked back into his hotel room and closed the door behind him, he headed toward the bed and opened his luggage.

There were places where those energies were not quite as strong, that much was true, but it was always there. Over the years, he’d found it increasingly more difficult to explain this to people. So he did not try anymore. Least of all with Jack. He knew him too well.

Another thing he hadn’t told his friends was that he had an ulterior motive for meeting them on Qojja. As did they, it seemed—he smiled as that thought crossed his mind. Maybe he should have told them after all... he promised himself he would. It was just still too sensitive for him. But soon, he would tell them.

He wondered what he would do once he’d found the answers he sought. He had never considered that before. Wouldn’t his life then feel empty? What would be his purpose once he no longer had this purpose? It was a somewhat disturbing perspective. One he preferred to discard for now.

His mind then wandered back to the mask.

He’d heard of it, of course. Who hadn’t? It had been a major story for centuries now, one of the most baffling mysteries of the universe. A half-dead, half-living mask; sometimes made of rock, sometimes of flesh—if it could be called that; that could never be removed from the wall it seemed to have been grafted on, no matter what.

Would he be able to pull it off?

He had never entertained this idea before, oddly enough. And yet, now that he did, it seemed like something he should have tried a long time ago. After all, why not? It felt like an interesting challenge, and he always did enjoy a challenge.

Yes. He would give it a shot.

And who knew... with a bit of ‘magic,’ maybe it would work.

5.

The streets of Keddah were not safe, had never been. She knew this, had always known this, but it hadn’t bothered her before.

Tonight, though, she was truly frightened.

As she walked down the crowded avenue, Susan’s eyes kept darting in every direction, on the lookout for any sign of danger.

If they came after her, would they do it out in the open? She was hoping not, and was carefully avoiding small alleys and isolated spots.

The crowd would keep her safe. At least, that was what the young short-haired brunette thought.

A loud popping sound made her jump. When she turned in its direction, she saw a small boy shooting a toy gun at his laughing parents.

She frowned and started walking again.

Where would she go, though?

At some point, the crowd would thin and she would become more exposed. She needed a safe place to hide. At least for a little while. Until she figured out some way out of this mess.

It angered her, too, because she was supposed to be in control. They were supposed to be afraid of her.

But perhaps they were. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps she had gone too far. Worried them too much. And now here she was, running for her life.

As she turned a corner, Susan saw a police car and froze. It took a couple of seconds before she came to her senses, and stepped out of the light and into a shadowy corner.

Her heart pounded as she closed her eyes. Were they looking for her? Had they seen her?

She waited a moment, but when she didn’t hear them coming, she took a deep breath and headed in the opposite direction.

Her hotel room was out of the question. They would find her too easily. She needed to disappear. Lay low.

As she walked past a crowded bar, she wondered how difficult it would be to get a fake ID... Who would she even ask for something like that?

Did she have any friends who could help her?

She thought about that for a moment.

Most of the people she knew lived in other cities—if not other worlds... There was Adrian, though. But she hadn’t seen him in... what? Ten years. At least that.

Still...

If he hadn’t moved away, maybe he would help.

He had always been kind to her.

She glanced all around, suspicious of every movement.

Did she remember where he lived? Yes. She thought she did. Maybe.

It would take at least twenty minutes to get there.

Susan headed for a transit station... might as well use public transportation while they were still running packed.

As she went down the stairs—after making sure she wasn’t being followed—she fervently hoped they wouldn’t get to her before she reached her destination.

***

He stood three feet above the assembled mass and stared down at it with contempt.

Look at them... how pathetic they are! Puny little things.

They have come for you, remarked the small man at his side.

He snorted. Indeed. As well they should. I am the closest thing to a god they will ever behold.

The crowd below was an agglomerate of humans of all genders, races, and strata.

Without waiting for the other to respond, the would-be god took a step forward and extended both his arms to his sides, and exclaimed loudly—he wanted to make sure they could all hear him:

Behold, my beloved followers! I have arrived! I shall bless you all with my presence. For I am the self-appointed Lord of Rectitude. Blemish me not, for I am Wrath! And my might is formidable!

As he spoke, the crowd became agitated, squirming and yelling. When he finished, a loud ovation resounded within their midst as they praised his name.

Lord Valerian! they chanted, Lord Valerian! Lord Valerian!

He shook his hands and closed his eyes to bask in their adulation, if only for a moment.

Then he turned and stepped back into the room.

By Udrak, how I despise them!

His servant—for that was what he was—was a human himself, but he refrained from reminding his master of this. He knew it would serve no purpose, save maybe to elicit anger. So he held his tongue. Gods should be allowed some leeway, after all, should they not?

With reverence, he poured Valerian’s favorite wine into a cup and brought it to him with his head bowed.

He did not expect thankfulness—he would never be so presumptuous!—nor was he wrong on this matter. There was little reward for his position, save of course to be in Valerian’s quasi-permanent divine presence. That alone, to him, was reward enough.

The cup was taken and downed, then tossed to the floor with utter disregard for the servant.

And yet, and yet... muttered his master.

There was a long silence as he paced the room, his mind wandering elsewhere—likely lost in the realm of the gods.

He finally stopped and looked at his servant. There was surprise in his expression, then anger.

Timothy! What are you still doing standing there, gaping at the walls, and drooling all over my floor? Bring me my diary before I change my mind and skin you alive!

The servant had been staring at his master, not at the wall, but he knew better than to talk back. So he bowed—deeply—then ran out to get the precious book.

Oh, how blessed was he!

6.

As they walked out of the house, the two detectives examined the surroundings.

I couldn’t live in a house built at the edge of a cliff like that, said Ward.

It’s a long way down, agreed Brown as he looked at the sandy beach below, where the victim’s body had been found.

Imagine if there’s an earthquake and the whole thing breaks loose... The older detective shuddered at the thought.

Brown chuckled. The place was built using alien technology, I’ve heard. I’m pretty sure it’s safe.

His colleague seemed dubious. You’ve heard?

Research is a thing, you know.

Smartass. He turned to look at the house. So... did you find anything interesting in there?

I did, actually, said Brown with a grin.

When he said nothing further, Ward clucked his tongue in annoyance.

Well? Are you going to let it out already?

Brown smiled.

Neither of them is married, he said. So... who do you suppose this belongs to?

He brought out a plastic bag that contained a tube of lipstick.

Ward stared at him.

You took this? Without a warrant?

The younger detective shrugged. It was right there on the bathroom floor... what was I supposed to do? Pretend I hadn’t seen it?

You do realize it will never be admissible in court, right?

Does it matter if the owner speaks?

What if she doesn’t?

Bah! I’m sure we’ll figure something out.

Ward shook his head as he got into their glider.

That kind of attitude will get you into a lot of trouble, kid.

Even if it solves cases?

Yes. Even if it solves cases.

He grabbed the plastic bag and examined the object within for a moment.

Well, he muttered. Now that we have it, we might as well use it. Let’s go find us this mystery woman.

The bag was tossed into Brown’s lap, then the detective tapped on the control panel to activate the glider.

He gave one last thoughtful look at the house.

It’s funny how you couldn’t tell just from looking at it...

Tell what?

That it’s alien technology. It makes you wonder.

Wonder about what?

What these aliens are like... I mean, we’ve been using their science everywhere, but we’ve never actually met them. Despite that, we have been able to understand the way they think... it’s kind of scary, but at the same time it makes me wonder if they really are that different from us?

Brown gave him a puzzled look. Does it matter?

I don’t know... Probably not. The glider rose as he spoke. But it kind of puts things into perspective. Makes me wonder what makes us tick. He tossed a glance at his partner. You, for instance. You’re still pretty young. Of everything you could have done, what made you want to join the force?

His partner seemed uncomfortable with the question. Family tradition, you could say. Almost everyone in my family was a cop.

Ah. One of those.

How about you?

Some might call it a calling...

You don’t?

Ward shrugged. Duty, perhaps.

For someone who was delving into existential questionings just a minute ago, I find your response oddly superficial—if not outright dismissive.

The older cop glanced at him. Chuckled. You’re right. Truth is, I often wonder if I chose the right path. All of my life, people told me I was made for this job... even before I joined, I was told it’d be a perfect fit for me. I never really questioned it. If everyone else was convinced—including people I would have trusted with my own life—then who was I to doubt it was true?

So why doubt it now?

Middle-age crisis? he grimaced. Burnout? Having seen too many of my colleagues die? Pick your poison.

They drove in silence for a moment.

Well, said Brown, regardless of all that, I must say I’m excited to work with you. They say you’re the best detective on Exudia.

The man snorted. Don’t believe everything you hear, kid.

Despite his statement, Brown could sense Ward was flattered...

Which, of course, was the point.

7.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, wondering if he was expecting me to break the silence. He seemed unperturbed as he sipped quietly from his drink, his gaze lost in the horizon—as if I hadn’t been there at all.

If I did say something, there was a chance it would be taken as an interruption of his reflection—which would be extremely rude.

I was torn.

As if he had sensed my hesitation, he spoke up—though his eyes remained fixed on some unseen spot in the distance.

You are familiar with the Szelkin?

The question troubled me. It shouldn’t have. It was a known fact I was one of them. Perhaps it was his way of phrasing it, as if he did not know I was... even though that was, of course, impossible—Rakash knew everything. That, too, was well known. So I kept my answer simple.

I am.

He glanced at me with what I thought was amusement. Had he expected me to deny it? Or maybe to try and justify it?

There are those who would refuse me entry into the senate.

So this was to be a political discussion. I should not have been surprised, but I was. Part of me had hoped he simply wanted to know me better... this notion had been bolstered by the knowledge we had both known and loved the same woman.

Obviously, I had been mistaken.

I find this surprising, I said noncommittally.

Those fanatics will not listen to reason. They refuse to vote for any of my proposals, no matter how sound it is.

I knew he was still upset and I wondered if this was a twisted way for him to get back at me, insulting this faction so dear to my heart. And then it occurred to me that perhaps I had it all wrong. Maybe his anger had nothing to do with my tardiness, and everything to do with the Szelkin. In his eyes, I was just one of those ‘fanatics.’ But then, why summon me at all?

Because he needed me, of course.

Perhaps if you did not constantly deride our beliefs...

It was a daring comment to make, but I could not let him mock our values in my face.

He set his glass down and looked at me with a slight smile.

I can see why Julia liked you. Still... There is a flaw in your logic.

I quirked a brow. Which is?

The Szelkin do not have ‘beliefs.’ What you have are aspirations—albeit unrealistic ones.

It irked me he would assume to know us better than we did ourselves. But I resisted the urge to throw the contents of my drink at his face; or to stand and leave; or to fling insults at him. All of these would have made me feel better. But none of them would have affected his thoughts or attitude. And all of them would have had dire consequences.

One did not so openly defy the great Rakash.

Instead, I gritted my teeth.

All we want is to understand our purpose in this world. Is that such a bad thing?

As if we had to have a purpose...

Don’t we, though?

No.

That is not what you tell your humans, I snapped.

What do you know of what I tell my humans?

The tone in his voice was a mix of amusement and biding threat. It instantly made me wary.

Only rumors, I said evasively.

He shrugged. "It matters not. They do have a purpose. And that is to serve us. He paused, his eyes meeting mine. Tell me, Evken... Would you serve these so-called gods you presumably believe in?"

Again, I resisted the urge to do something rash. Not trusting my hand, I set my glass down.

What is this all about, Uncle? I doubt you had me come here just to berate me.

He sighed as he sat back and turned his gaze to some mysterious spot on the horizon.

Do not make the mistake so many others have made before you.

And what mistake would that be? I asked coolly.

Presuming to know what I am thinking.

***

Michael paused his reading to get a drink.

He wondered who those characters were and what their connection to Ahuaxa was. Their names were not familiar to him.

The relationship between them was peculiar. The narrator called the other ‘Uncle,’ which made it sound like they were related... and yet this was obviously the first time they had met, and they only seemed to have a passing familiarity with each other.

The conversation was fascinating... but also frustrating, as it was not giving him a single clue as to the location of the fabled city. He was starting to wonder if there was any connection at all!

Could he have been mistaken? Could this just be some random diary of some random person from the past?

Then again, they did talk of humans as servants, which was intriguing... and certainly implied that they themselves were not human.

What were they, then?

He frowned.

Could they be gods themselves? There were supposed to be thousands of them... He couldn’t be expected to know all of their names, so it was not impossible.

But then, the narrator believed in some god, so how could they be gods themselves?

He glanced at the pile of leaflets.

Shaking his head, he decided he needed a break.

He took his coat and headed out.

8.

They had agreed to meet for breakfast, but Jack was late.

While they waited for their friend, Will and Paul wandered through the hotel’s garden.

Why is the mask so important to Jack? asked Paul.

Honestly, I don’t know. It’s become like an obsession with him in the past few months. I mean, yes, it’s an important artifact, but we can study it just fine the way it is. Removing it from the wall won’t fundamentally change anything about its nature or its mysteries. In fact... I’m not even sure you should try to do it at all. It’d be like encouraging his compulsion.

Paul shrugged. I disagree. I mean, I understand your point of view, but I feel you’re taking it to the other extreme. You said it yourself, whether or not I succeed, it won’t change anything. But not only about the mask. It won’t change anything about Jack either. His obsession will still be there. If anything, seeing it finally in his hands might make it less gripping.

Maybe...

To tell you the truth, I’m quite curious about it myself. I see it as a challenge. I don’t know if I can do it, but I would like to try.

You always did like a challenge...

Paul laughed. Yes, I suppose I did.

After twenty minutes had passed, hunger convinced them to start without their friend.

They sat down at a table and dug into their pancakes.

So what is this mask exactly, anyway? What do we know about it?

Not much, really. It’s supposed to be some form of alien technology...

Paul glanced at his friend. You don’t think it is?

I have a hard time swallowing it, he answered. I mean... if it’s of alien origin, then where are the aliens? Why do we have all this stuff they supposedly built but can’t find any traces of the people themselves—no writing, no graves, no cities in ruins, no spaceships... It makes little sense to me.

What would be its origin, then?

"Qojja was colonized so long ago that we’ve forgotten the details of those early years. I think all this so-called alien technology