Ascension
A short story
When Fabian The Sentient chose me as his biographer, it was the greatest honor of my life. By the time he summoned me to his mountaintop sanctuary, he had transcended corporeal form and existed as a dazzling beam of pure energy. This was shortly after he had been given the Intergalactic Being Of The Eon Award.
“Please,” Fabian said when I met him, “be near me, and be at peace.” Though I make my living as a writer, I struggle to describe what it was like to be near him for the first time. It was like stepping into a warm bath, except the warmth came from the inside-out, and all my fears and apprehensions suddenly seemed funny to me. Fabian summoned a single raspberry on a plate: “Ingest,” he said, “and rejoice”. I found this odd, and I had just eaten lunch, but I ate the raspberry, and folks: Oh my fucking God this fucking raspberry. If I live to be a thousand, I won’t find words to describe how sweet it was.
Fabian’s grace was omnipresent. I was stunned by the benevolence that he showed towards the Gliesian Hornets that he defeated in the year 912,004. “A flower is to bloom,” he said. “A butterfly is to flutter. A Gliesian Hornet is to try to paralyze me with venom so that I may toil in their Hive Moon. One mustn’t judge the nature of being.” He showed the same deference to every nanobot army and Vandonian mind control cloud that he had vanquished.
Fabian seemed almost surprised when I asked how he solved the Perseus Arm 3117-B Conflict by curing all disease in the stellar-sphere. “It was in the fabric of the universe,” Fabian’s beam said with a lilt. “I did not find it. It was there. It was found.” He was similarly nonchalant about his taming of reaper clones, the harnessing of quark energy, and his discovery of the Single Physical Truth. “When you walk on the beach, do you not pick up beautiful shells as you go?” he said. “That which some praise in me is present in all of us.”
When I asked to see his Intergalactic Being of the Eon Award, he said “You are the award.” But when I looked confused, he let me see it. It was very shiny, and it’s heavier than it looks! “To think,” I said, “Only nine of these have ever been awarded.” Fabian’s beam softly pulsed. “How did it feel to get this?” I asked. “When others desire to reward you, you are rewarded,” he said.
Needing more for the book, I coaxed: “Some say you’re the most accomplished being to ever receive the award,” I said. “After all: Artemis Of Plutonia and Jesus Christ lived in eons when frankly there wasn’t much competition. And Cragnar The Seer was a lackluster winner even before he got Me Too’d. I think most people would agree that even among the venerable winners of this award, you stand apart.” It may have been my imagination, but Fabian’s beam seemed to glow a bit brighter when I said this. “Why,” I continued, “the only being who might even come close to you is Hälmander The Pure!” Fabian said nothing in response. I stayed quiet, hoping to get a quote for the book. But after a minute, Fabian simply said: “Let’s stop for today.”
When I arrived the next day, Fabian had laid out breakfast. “A feast!” He said. “Though…not as traditionally meant.” A platter was placed before me, and the lid was removed: On the plate — I can’t really describe this — was the entire universe. “Gaze,” said Fabian, “and know.” The next dish was love — yes, love. Again, I lack words to describe the experience, but I imbibed love, which came in a teacup and had bubbles. The final dish was a sense of knowing — just a knowledge I can’t describe but Fabian served it as a cake — that all of my antecedents and descendants knew me and were proud. “Would you say you are centered now?” Fabian asked. “Do you see farther?” I told him I absolutely did. This time, Fabian’s beam definitely glowed brighter. “Well then,” he said, “Let’s see Hälmander The Pure do that!”
The next day, we talked about florastic synthesis. Fabian patiently walked me through the process of how he came to know that all organic matter in the universe is linked, and that by mapping that linkage, it’s possible to improve health for all. I marveled at his thought process. “Incredible,” I said. “It’s like you took the Principles Of The Colony that Hälmander The Pure developed on Voctavia 12 and spread them across the entire universe.”
Fabian’s beam coughed — yes, coughed — when I said that. It was if his beam drank water down the wrong pipe. “Um,” Fabian said as he worked the last few coughs out of his system, “it’s sort of like that, I suppose. Although in another way: Not really.” I asked him what he meant. “Well,” he said, “Look: Hälmander was an amazing thinker. Amazing, don’t get me wrong. And his insights were really good. For his time. But to suggest that the Principles Of The Colony laid the groundwork for florastic synthesis…” I felt sheepish, which Fabian must have sensed. “It’s a common misconception!” he said. “Not your fault at all! There is, you know, in a way, sort of a connection — I mean the scales aren’t remotely comparable — but they’re sort of the same! And Hälmander was great, really, don’t get me wrong. So great.” Fabian’s beam vibrated a little. “Don’t want beef with the Hälmander fans.”
I took the weekend off. When I arrived on Monday, Fabian had a presentation waiting for me. “I feel like I tripped over my tongue a bit on the whole Principles Of The Colony thing,” he said. “And I don’t want to be seen as throwing shade at Hälmander The Pure. Who’s great — totally great, don’t get me wrong. But it’s just a fact that florastic synthesis didn’t come from his work.” Fabian’s presentation was thorough, clear, and imbued me with a new sense of knowing. “I understand,” I said. “Florastic synthesis is no more built on Hälmander’s work than Hypathian physics is a result of the very advent of numbers.” “EXACTLY!” said Fabian. “I mean really,” I continued, “The only way in which there’s any connection at all is that Hälmander’s work was so foundational that basically all work that came after him is ‘connected’ in some way.”
Fabian’s beam dimmed when I said this. “Well,” he retorted, “that’s flogging the word ‘connected’ to a bloody fucking pulp, wouldn’t you say?” I stammered in search of a reply. But Fabian filled the silence: “I mean obviously one thing came from another, no fucking duh. Props to those who lived eons before us; apparently, they get to take credit for everything we do. I suppose the real hero is some cave man named Grok or Ug who was the first to kill a lizard with a rock, because — when you think about it — aren’t all my accomplishments really his doing? Didn’t he really ‘lay the groundwork’ — in your words — for everything I’ve done?!” Then, Fabian’s Intergalactic Being Of The Eon Award award began hovering in the air, as if Fabian was waving it around. “WHERE’S UG THE CAVEMAN?” he yelled, “HOW DO I GIVE HIM THIS??? AFTER ALL, HE’S THE REAL FUCKING HERO HERE!!!” Then the award dropped to the floor with a thud. Fabian’s beam exited. I quickly gathered my things and left. As I did, I’m fairly sure that I heard an Earth beer being opened from near Fabian’s serenity pod.
The next day, Fabian was apologetic. “I failed to embody my values,” he said. “And I perhaps appeared to discount Hälmander’s achievements. Which are great, totally great, don’t get me wrong.” Fabian’s beam moved closer and whispered: “But honesty compels me to tell you: I struggle to view Hälmander’s work objectively due to truths that are known only to some.”
I was aghast. “Truths?” I said.
“Yes,” Fabian replied. “Truths which are known to those of us who have transcended the shackles of time. Come,” he said, “follow.”
I followed him into the garden. At the center of the garden was a history orb. “I’m showing you this because my feelings towards Hälmander should be put into context,” Fabian said. “And I hope you don’t judge him too harshly, for he was but a man of his time. Now…watch.”
I touched the orb, and before my eyes, the universe rewound 500,000 years. Through a tunnel of light, I could see a presence that I knew to be Hälmander The Pure. And he spoke, using a derogatory term for the Chinese. He said:
“If you ask me, there are just way too many c****s on this planet. It’s just c**** city. What do they call it, Donna — what’s this place called? (muffled response) Yeah they oughta call it C****sylvania.”
The orb faded, and I returned to the present. I couldn’t believe what I just saw. “So,” Fabian said, “pretty shocking, right?”
“Yyyes,” I replied.
“He just totally used it that word. Flat out used it — he couldn’t even say ‘I was using it ironically’ or anything. Just used it. Pretty ugly.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And who’s Donna?”
“Lost to history,” Fabian replied.
“Oh-kay,” I said. And before I could stop myself, I blurted out: “I gotta say, his voice sounded a lot like yours.”
For a moment, Fabian didn’t reply. But then he said: “No it didn’t.”
“Yeah,” I said, “it did. Like your voice but higher, and with a lisp. Did you…dub your voice over his?”
“HOW WOULD I EVEN DO THAT?” Fabian shot back.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but there’s probably a way.”
“BUT YOU JUST SAID YOU DON’T KNOW!”
“I mean, if you can travel through time…”
“YOU JUST SAID YOU DON’T KNOW! WELL I DO KNOW, AND YOU CAN’T RE-RECORD AUDIO IN A TIME ORB!”
“Okay.”
“JESUS!”
“Fine, I believe you.”
“WHY ARE YOU SO HORNY FOR THIS GUY?”
“I’m not, I believe you.”
“GEE, THANK YOU!”
“Alright.”
“ALRIGHT.”
“Thank you for showing me.”
“YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME.”
After that, we sat in total silence for a few minutes. Then Fabian said “It’s like you’re his lawyer or something.” And then he asked me to leave.
I tried to cancel the next day’s session, but Fabian texted me and said “Yo you gotta come over — I got sumptin to show you!”
When I arrived, Fabian had taken corporeal form for the first time in many years. He was just as I remembered him: A six foot tall Mexican man with a goatee. He was wearing basketball shorts and doing calf stretches in the Field Of Omniscience. “Hey!” he called as I arrived, “it’s the President of the Hälmander The Pure Fan Club!”
I lowered my head. Fabian laughed and punched me on the shoulder “I’m just yankin’ your dong!” he said. “But there’s somethin’ I want to show you — check this out!”
He pointed across the field to a basketball hoop. “Let’s see Hälmander The Pure do this!” he said. And then he summoned a ball from the ether and charged towards the basket.
Fabian The Sentient gained speed as he dribbled towards the hoop. He leaped, arced his arm in a tomahawk motion, but could only clatter the ball off the top of the rim and backboard, then out.
“Damn it!” he said. “I can do this. I did it a bunch of times before you showed up.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Hälmander The Pure couldn’t dunk,” Fabian said as he geared up for another attempt.
“Probably not,” I said.
“No definitely not!” said Fabian. “With his big ass? No way. But I on the other hand…” He sprinted towards the hoop again. Just like before, the ball clattered hard off the rim and backboard.
“FUCK!” He yelled. “I fuckin’ slipped that time.”
“Is that hoop regulation?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“It looks a bit low.”
“Well it’s not.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just told you it’s not. And they didn’t give me the Intergalactic Being Of The Eon Award for being a big fuckin’ liar.”
Fabian sprinted towards the hoop again. This time, his try was cleanly stuffed by the front of the rim, which made him fall backwards and land on his ass. “Oh fuck!” he yelled. “My NAR!”
“Your what?”
“My North Ass Region! I landed right on it. Ahhhhhhh…fuck!”
After a Gatorade break, Fabian The Sentient tried three more times to dunk. He failed each time. Then he switched to trying to dunk a volleyball. On the fourth try with the volleyball, Fabian finally dunked.
“Yeeeeeaaaaaaah!” he yelled at the sky. “Suck my nuts, Hälmander The Pure!” He pointed at me: “You saw it.” I nodded that I did. “Put that in your fuckin’ book,” Fabian The Sentient said.
The next day, I was fired as Fabian’s biographer. He hired Abby Knutson, who’s really great, I love Abby, don’t get me wrong. Though, I felt that the book she and Fabian produced — Winning Fever: Seven Tips to Being Your Best Boss Bitch Every Day — failed to capture the complexity of Fabian as I knew him. I still feel that — for all his faults — Fabian is a remarkable being, arguably the greatest of all time. He’s probably even in the top two. Certainly in the top five.
I actually tried to subscribe after reading this story because I liked it so much, but I was also a bit drunk and couldn't find my credit card. But I really liked it.
DALL-E still having hand trouble I see. And the penis coming out of the belly button? I don't know, man.