Creatures of God

Riddles and Hidden Meanings

Hello, Everyone! How's it going? One of these days, I'm going to add a chapter (at the end) that shows all of my little 'tributes' (in "Creatures of God") to some of my favorite books and movies and TV shows. Do you notice any of them while you're reading? I'll bet you do! Some of them are fairly direct, but others, not so much. If you read a quote, and it reminds you of "Star Wars," well, it's probably on purpose. It's supposed to be fun! For example, I used the title of a TV show that I recently binge-watched (and like) in this chapter's text. Can you find it?

Alessandro sat all curled up in the corner of the room, crying. He hid his head beneath his folded arms, minimizing his exposure; as if he could somehow be forgotten in this small space, as if no one could notice him, as if he could disappear. He wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging himself, as no one else was around to comfort him; to tell him everything would be alright, to say things would only get better, even if he knew that wasn't true, even if he knew it was not possible.

I want to go home.

Instead, Alessandro was stuck in the future, on an ill-fated journey to another time and place, in an outlandish story about the eventual destruction of the Earth and the restart of humanity. He looked up from where he sat and staggered a deep breath, trying to contain himself. The world was better than this before, he thought, wasn't it? He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and wiped his nose. He tried to remember all the good in the world, the happiness, but there had also been a lot of sadness before, too. As it was, Alessandro was not surprised the human race had destroyed its own paradise.

In the dim light, Alessandro looked at the extended space around himself. He had retreated to a place of comfort and familiarity -- the Center Library, his favorite hideaway. It was a museum of sorts, with its endless amounts of artifacts and records; items of interest, some of which were regularly displayed throughout the place in clear, mounted housings, exchanged every so often for other spectacles of note. On exhibition this month was an old, leather-bound book of celestial body movements, its cover smooth yet scarred along the edges. The spine was busted and partially detached, but the book remained complete in its volume.

Equally captivating was the library's virtual reality chamber, a pseudo-time machine capable of producing experiences from almost every time period in the planet's history. Externally, the glasshouse-looking structure appeared a part of the department's design and decor, but inside, a dark, heavy draping hung in every direction; a blinding light flickered; and the floor shifted to the step and wander of every awestruck visitor. Alessandro himself had already explored some of the farthest reaches of obscurity -- places like Whitby, England and Bran, Romania -- but his most frequented destination was a nostalgic one: midwestern Kansas, 1985 -- the place he called home.

There was a problem though.

While the streets and buildings of 1985 were recognizable, its digitized effects felt foreign to Alessandro. Everyday people were strangers. Reconstructed. Reimagined. Only the more documented people in town were familiar, like the mayor and the police chief, or the local celebrity. Otherwise, Alessandro could neither locate Mr. Baldredge nor the backyard shack in which he had once lived, no matter how many times he had tried to find them.

His past had been erased.

I am truly alone in this world.

Returning to present reality, Alessandro was left with a somber solitude.

The people here will not accept me.

But that wasn't just it.

They are afraid of me. Even I am afraid of me.