Chương 54: The lightened path

“Do you believe in Gods?”

I pause for a few moments, letting the weight of the question settle over me.

Do I believe in Gods? It’s a question I’ve never truly pinned down an answer to.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘Gods’?” I finally query, seeking clarity.

“Hmm, I suppose there are two primary definitions. Either the omnipotent kind or the animistic kind… I’m curious if you believe in any form of supernatural beings that govern the universe.”

Reflecting on it, I confess, “In that light, no, I don’t. Though I have often wished for their existence…”

“Good to know. That simplifies things,” she says with a hint of relief. “I don’t believe in Gods either. It’s actually quite rare around here not to harbour some belief in the supernatural. But tell me, Gini, why do you think people lean on the idea of Gods?”

I ponder for a bit. “Isn’t it a way to simplify life? It’s easier to have a deity to blame when things spiral out of control…”

“While that is a valid point, it doesn’t encompass the whole picture,” she explains. “You see, the essence of all Gods can be traced back to anthropomorphism. Humans have this inherent need to ascribe meaning to the inexplicable or illogical elements of daily life. Haven’t you ever cursed the sun on an unbearably hot day, as though your words might sway its merciless rays? That’s anthropomorphism. It’s our tendency to bestow human-like emotions or intentions onto animals or even inanimate objects. ‘The sun WANTS to torment me, hence its relentless shine.’ Could this behaviour be the foundation for our belief in the supernatural and Gods?”

The logic resonates with me.

“Are you implying that it’s impossible for humans to be true atheists?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. However, there’s an innate psychological inclination to believe in the supernatural, until we develop the capacity to rationalize or logically counter such instincts. In many ways, it’s an evolutionary mechanism. Our ability to project beliefs and intentions onto others played a pivotal role in our evolution as a social species. This skill of mentalization lets us understand and resonate with someone else’s emotions and needs without needing any spoken words. We often refer to it as empathy.”

“But why do we extend this anthropomorphism to animals or lifeless entities like the sun?”

She ponders for a second before elucidating, “Imagine facing a crocodile. Wouldn’t it be beneficial to gauge if it intends to make you its next meal? This discernment aids survival. As for inanimate objects, perhaps our ancient ancestors didn’t draw much distinction between animate and inanimate threats. To an early human, if you’re near a water body and there’s movement underneath, does it really matter if it’s the water or the crocodile beneath that wants to harm you? Any change in our environment can trigger this response mechanism. It’s not every day you catch yourself chatting with walls. Perceiving an environment’s shifts as potential threats is an instinctual extension of our anthropomorphic tendencies.”

“Okay, I think I get it now…” I muse, connecting the dots in my mind. “But why did you bring all this up?”

“Oops, sorry. I’ll get back on track. But understanding this is vital for the context. Suppose there are no Gods in the universe. Imagine they’re just figments of our minds, desperate to discern patterns and seek clarity in a boundlessly intricate cosmos. Without the concepts of heaven, hell, or reincarnation, what’s the ultimate purpose of life?”

“Nothing…” The word lingers in the air, an echo of emptiness.

“Exactly! Life, in essence, is pointless. But we’re inherently afraid of death, aren’t we? Even when you’re certain that there’s no more meaning to extract from your existence, the mere thought of ending it is daunting. That’s because every cell, every atom within you recoils at the prospect of death. When trapped in a dire situation, your brain fires desperate alarms. ‘ACT NOW, DO SOMETHING,’ they scream incessantly. Such distress signals won’t let you find solace even in death’s embrace.”

The stark description dredges up memories. I recall that ‘brain alarm’ she mentions all too vividly. The last instance was when I was on the brink of death in that sun-scorched desert… That’s when Rohini appeared…

“Even something as seemingly straightforward as shooting oneself is an uphill battle. I tried, convinced that the pain would be fleeting, yet I couldn’t summon the strength to pull the trigger.”

A heavy sigh escapes her lips. “I’m truly sorry you went through that… But my main point stands: life is void of inherent meaning! Grasping that is crucial.”

“Okay… But I’m not sure I needed a discourse from you to grasp that stark reality…”

“Patience! Don’t jump to conclusions just yet. Here’s the second tenet: if nothing inherently matters, then I become the most significant entity in my universe. The raw, unfiltered truth is that I am GOD!”

A sharp pang of headache makes me question if I’m hearing things right.

“Are you out of your mind?!” My voice rises, a mixture of incredulity and frustration.

“Ah, perhaps my phrasing was off… What I intend to say is that everyone can be the god of their personal universe. Have you heard the adage that posits you’re the protagonist of your life’s story? It’s akin to that sentiment, albeit more nuanced.”

I can’t help but smirk, “More self-indulgent, you mean…”

She tsks, amusement dancing in her tone. “Tut-tut-tut, dear child. The logic is sound. As you now comprehend, life lacks inherent purpose. The universe, in its vast indifference, doesn’t assign meaning to our existence. Given this existential dread, I’ve concluded that one’s world is inherently solipsistic. Our yearning for the supernatural springs from the fact that we ourselves are, in a way, supernatural. When you cease to exist, your world ends too. Haven’t you ever pondered such a thought?”

“Isn’t that sheer egotism in its rawest form?”

“Absolutely! But don’t misconstrue my words, Gini. Every soul is inherently self-centred. Our actions, even those cloaked in altruism, are ultimately self-serving. Even acts of kindness to strangers or loved ones are subconsciously geared towards reciprocal benefits. Human interactions are fundamentally transactional. People often grow resentful when they perceive that their gestures aren’t adequately reciprocated.”

I mull over her words, realizing I might be an outlier. I can’t recall ever feeling slighted on such grounds, perhaps because I seldom give to begin with…

“But you can’t do anything supernatural, can you? That doesn’t really qualify you as a god…”

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“Oh, I can! I possess the uncanny ability to make you fall head over heels for me. Beware of my irresistible allure, fufufu!” Her laughter rings out, playful yet confident.

The oppressive heat surrounding me makes it impossible for me to even entertain the thought of blushing.

“Are you certain you’re not delusional?” I challenge, eyebrows raised in scepticism.

She feigns shock, her eyes wide, “Uwah! How cruel of you! But, to answer your earlier question, yes, I do have superpowers! I wield the phenomenal ability to perceive the world authentically and act upon it. This power resides within you too, Gini!”

“Doesn’t literally everyone possess this ‘superpower’? Doesn’t sound all that ‘super’ to me.”

She laughs mischievously, “That’s where you err. I view the world and interact with it as it truly is. And now, so can you, Gini. Not everyone manages to grasp the profound realization that life is devoid of inherent meaning, yet continues to engage with it. That brings us to the third pillar of my doctrine: since life is void of inherent purpose, embrace egoism with gusto! Cast away hypocrisy! There’s no looming judgment, no afterlife to dread. Forge your own moral compass, define your ethics! If you believe some deserve life while others merit death, act on it! No one should have the audacity to dictate the trajectory of your life. Having acknowledged the first principle, you’re faced with a choice: ascend to divinity or wallow in despair. Display courage, Gini! In our reality, we are the sole deities, and thus, our realm is paradise!”

She pauses, gauging my reaction, her words an intoxicating blend of zeal and conviction. I grapple to string my thoughts together, “This is convoluted. How can I be a god if I don’t see myself as one? Have I not failed your second test? How does not deeming myself a god equate to cowardice?”

She responds seriously, “Still befuddled, Gini? Recognizing an injustice yet choosing inaction is peak cowardice. Only an arbitrary moral compass restrains your divine ascent. Why the compulsion for modesty? Haven’t you endured enough? There’s no need to handicap yourself with redundant sentiments. You might not see your own divinity, but I can bestow it upon you! Remember, I am a GOD! Omnipotent! With my unparalleled prowess, I elevate you to my level. Embrace your godhood, Gini. Nothing bars us from reigning supreme, shaping the cosmos as we see fit!”

A sense of warmth envelops me, realizing that someone holds me in such high regard, even if their assertions border on the absurd.

I hesitantly inquire, “But, why me? Why not extend this offer to your close friends, or … your fiancé?”

Her tone softens, voice lowering to a tender whisper, “There’s no underlying reason. My fondness for you is genuine, and I won’t curb my desires. The fourth tenet, Gini: As God, I determine the fate of every soul. At times, the inevitable takes time, and occasionally, unforeseen tragedies occur. I might’ve exaggerated; I’m not all-powerful. Yet, if even a god like me isn’t omnipotent, it’s evidence that no omnipotence exists. Naturally, I don’t wish for Nila and Nala to perish either, but their plight isn’t as dire as yours. I don’t feel compelled to remind them of their worthiness of life. Hence, Gini, it’s you I’ve chosen. Gods, in many cultures, aren’t benevolent saviours but capricious tricksters. By such metrics, I’m rather mainstream! Herein lies my justification, Gini: I believe you ought to thrive, and your demise would shatter me. It wouldn’t be wise to dishearten a god, would it?”

The cogs of comprehension slowly turn in my mind as I grapple with Rohini’s philosophy, but genuine acceptance remains elusive. The air around me cools perceptibly; either night has draped its cloak over the world, or perhaps I’ve simply grown accustomed to the earlier scorching heat. Fatigue settles heavily on my eyelids, and I can’t help but wonder how much longer I’ll remain ensconced in this secluded turret.

“Why do you insinuate that no entity surpasses your might in this realm?” My voice grows sluggish, sleep tugging at its edges.

“Simple. I am God, and the world I perceive is the only truth. My very existence testifies to my unparalleled strength. Were there any force mightier than me, I would’ve been vanquished by now.”

Her argument, either muddled by my drowsiness or inherently perplexing, fails to resonate clearly in my fatigued mind.

“Rohini…” My voice wavers, thick with emotion and exhaustion. “I won’t die, so don’t die either…”

A gentle, comforting note enters her voice. “I’m heartened by your words, Gini. Rest easy; Gods can’t die.”

Under the balm of her assurance, sleep envelops me, pulling me into its serene depths.

…

The jarring noise of something shifting overhead rouses me from my brief state of unconsciousness. I squint against a sudden intrusion of light piercing the darkness overhead.

“Ah, here you are, Snakey.”

The rich timbre of 2nd Lieutenant Crowsclaws resonates within the confines of the turret. Noticing my discomfort, he adjusts the angle of the flashlight, alleviating my blindness, and extends a hand in my direction. “Come. Can you stand?”

I observe the vacant space Rohini previously occupied, relieved by her absence. Accepting his hand, I muster the strength to haul myself out of the turret’s shadowy interior.

“These scums utilized a warhead box. They’ve risked igniting a catastrophe in the entire camp.” Crowsclaws articulates, his voice thick with fury before he spits disdainfully. “Who’s behind this, Snakey?”

A web of conflicting emotions envelop me as I deliberate on a response. My instincts urge me to withhold, to protect Robin despite her actions, yet anger and betrayal boil beneath my surface, reinforced by the unjust end met by Ishqam—a person worthy of life, deserving of more than her tragic fate. Robin, the puppeteer behind Ishqam’s demise, strikes me as the embodiment of cruelty and disdain. My heart hardens; resolve crystallizes with a chilling clarity.

“It was Robin and two privates,” I declare, my voice bereft of warmth.

He releases a weary sigh, laced with a resignation that hinted at an expectation of this revelation. “Of course. Though, I must admit, I hadn’t anticipated you’d be the one to divulge it.”

My gaze locks with his, a bridge of understanding stretching between us. His face bears a scar, a raw testament to the pain I inflicted upon him. Yet here he stands, my saviour in this crucial moment. The motivations behind his actions no longer hold significance; gratitude takes precedence.

“Thank you for aiding me,” I murmur, the words emerging frail yet sincere.

Crowsclaws’s expression shifts to one of astonishment. As he guides the way to the dormitories, his flashlight casts elongated shadows that dance along the path. A chuckle escapes him, breaking the tense atmosphere. “I never anticipated gratitude from you, Snakey. Don’t tell me you saw God in that turret?”

“Yes, I did.” I answer and walk silently on the lightened path.

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