Outcasts of Gideon

A Change in Plans

Dewey was dreaming of home. The shore of the Pyroeisian Sea provided the foreground. A threatening storm darkened the canvas. It's how he always dreamed of the ocean. He had never liked it there. Seeing nothing but water stretched to the horizon frightened him. It seemed ready to swallow him at any moment. Maybe that's why he preferred the cramped cabin of the Aion.

This dream was different. He'd experienced something like it often before, many times. Yet this time felt odd. To begin with, he recognized it as a dream. Am I dreamin'? he asked himself.

He turned to see the skyline of Aodhán City in the distance. Both comforting and familiar, it towered over the long shore. Walking toward it, the city grew quickly before him as though propelled to him by an unseen hand.

"You're not supposed to be here," came a voice.

That's different, he thought. Dewey looked around. He didn't see anyone. He hadn't expected to. His dreams were rarely populated by people. What's more, the voice boomed. It couldn't have belonged to anyone standing nearby.

"How did you get here?" it asked. The voice was like the ocean, vast and foreboding.

I'm only here to visit, thought Dewey.

He considered escaping to the city. The thought brought him rushing into the wide streets. Riding atop his low-rider motorcycle, the buildings towered over him. His arms hung from the high handlebars as he sped through neighborhoods he knew well. Dipping the machine back and forth on the street, he felt free the way only this setting enabled. The open road, he thought.

"You were meant to go down to the planet, to witness the end." The voice had followed him after all.

What end? he thought.

He turned himself down a wide avenue. Dozens of buildings glistened in the bright sunlight. There he found the headquarters of the Lackey Shuttle Service. Entering, he discovered the offices empty. Up on the loading docks, he found the weathered shell of the Aion and boarded it. The ship was empty as well, just the way he liked it. He climbed inside the pilot's cabin, settled into the seat, and closed his eyes.

"This is better," boomed the voice. "I had become bored with the direction we were taking it."

"Who was takin' it?" asked Dewey. He opened his eyes and scanned the small compartment. There was still no face to assign to the voice, a fact that failed to concern him.

"Don't act like you weren't the one who came up with the idea. 'Like burning insects under a magnifier.' Those were your words, not ours."

"A magnifier?"

"A human invention. You wondered why they made it with a single lens."

Dewey absently flipped one of the switches on the panel. "Why would it have one lens? Don't we have two eyes?"

"You don't have two eyes."

Dewey pressed several buttons. The Aion remained still and silent. "I miss this ship."

"We were afraid of that," boomed the voice.

The dream began to dissolve, replaced by a gray darkness. Dewey wasn't startled by this. He didn't want the vessel to go, but an eagerness to see what came next had overcome him. I'm not known for being eager, am I? he thought.

Around him the gray darkness faded to black as the universe descended. Billions of galaxies enveloped him, their star fields twinkling in swirls and masses. Between these was the vast emptiness, a cold void of silence. He was at once swallowed by it and aware of its limitations, the very edges of existence.

In a small corner of the infinite he saw the world he'd just left. The infinitesimal Aion sat on its pad waiting for him to pilot it. His ape hanger glistened on the street before the towers of Aodhán City. The vast ocean patiently pounded against the shoreline. "You might make me miss that ocean," he said.

Around this were wisps of vapor, a growing haze. It began bubbling and roiling, swallowing the planet and its star. It continued, absorbing star after star, galaxy after galaxy, until it consumed everything. "They call it Aitaoperaa. We haven't been able to figure out why."

"What does 'why' matter?"

"Idleness leads in strange directions. 'Why' is where we ended our search."

"They coulda called it Oz. Wouldn't make no difference."

"We suppose."

The scene around him continued to fold into itself. Shapes warped and heaved without coherence. Sounds and scents intertwined, assaulting his senses. "You still haven't said how you got here." The voice had changed. Now it bubbled up as though one with the seething vision.

"I'm just visitin'." Dewey reached out and forced his hand into the frothing maelstrom. With it went stars and vapor, a swirl of jetsam in his wake. He marveled at how beautiful it was.

"But how are you visiting?"

"I figured we'd try sleep, dreams. Dawn suggested the weightlessness, like on the Aion. Might be onto somethin'."

"You might." The voice trailed off.

"I have to go back now."

"To watch the end?"

"No, to stop it."

"That's not the plan."

"I suppose plans can change."

"We may be forced to accelerate things."

"That won't surprise me."