A Child is Born

The air was cold and clear as ice, sending cunning tendrils of wind into every nook and cranny. The traffic lights shifted above empty streets as the town slept beneath pinpoint stars.

From the shadows beyond the buildings a dark man emerged and began to walk with precise steps towards the town centre. His shadow was a yawning gulf of darkness, seeking to devour all. Over his gaunt features played an ironic smile, as eyes darker than the Abyss surveyed the closed shops and trashcans. In the darkness beyond the light unseen things moved.

A few blocks away a woman was walking towards the same destination. Her long black hair and white shirt fluttered in a warm wind that wasn't there, and her eyes sparkled with starlight from unknown constellations. Somewhere a dog began to howl and was answered by something from the forest beyond, making the dog quickly stop.

Across the town a man strode towards the meeting with resolute, measured steps. His suit was impeccably dark and expensive, his glasses coldly reflected reality back on itself. Along him followed the whisper of the fiberoptical cables beneath the street, the quiet murmur of remote highways and the cold stare of orbital defence stations.

The three reached the crossing at the same time from different directions. They warily eyed each other, and then turned to the fourth street.

The man may not have been standing there a moment ago, but now he had been standing there since the town was built. He was surprisingly nondescript, as if all of his features were temporary things he made up as he went along and soon would forget. In one hand he held a bracelet shaped like a stylised Möbius strip, an infinity sign or a snake eating its tail. He smiled broadly at the other three.

For a moment everything was still and in perfect balance. The four watched each other, standing completely still. The cogwheels of reality's hidden machinery meshed and something clicked in place. Tremendous forces balanced each other, held in check by the frailty of the symmetry of the situation, nothing more.

Somewhere nearby chaos was trying to break the balance, prevented only by luck, skill and perhaps destiny. A few shots were heard and a scream from something inhuman. A ripple in reality was sealed with fire and logic. Then silence reigned.

Each of the four considered the possibility of overturning the balance, to strike the first blow and get the advantage of surprise. They all came to the same conclusion at the same time. Neither of them spoke; they all knew what the others would say. The acknowledgement hung in the air: "So it begins/ends". Together they began to walk towards the brightly lit hospital, to the maternity ward.

An ancient figure watched them from across the parking lot with an expression of hateful scorn on his wrinkled face. As the third man entered the hospital he looked back at the figure, who demonstratively turned his back on him.

"I didn't know they could get angry" someone said in a low voice from the shadows. She was a nervous dark girl huddling in a far too thin jacket near a small portable radiator.

"Actually, my dear, they usually can't. They are manifestations of static reality, not personalities. But in this case the causal strain is so great that he (and I assume others) have been forced to take on a more personal reality in order to fulfil their duties. Probably..."

The speaker was a pale man in a bulky coat, with a big bear-skin hat that made him look slightly Russian. He was trying to make the reception on the small radio he held clearer, with no success.

"What Hans says is that Mr. Anybody forced you-know-who to become personal. And he doesn't like it one bit."

The third speaker was a plump lady, wearing sensibly warm clothing and a somewhat incongruous neon-coloured backpack. Her smile hinted at someone used to get her way, preferably in the least amount of multi syllable words.

"Exactly, although I would hesitate to attribute anthropomorphic emotions to a manifestation of reality itself."

"But why? Why can't he just fry Mr. Anybody for whatever he is doing? You know, they say he can make so that big offenders never get born. Never existed. But here reality is taking a beating worse than anything I have ever seen, even that dox storm in Miami. So why is he standing just there?"

"While Mr. Anybody is up there visiting his birth? Yes, I would also wring my hands if I was in those wrinkly clothes. But he has no choice. Mr. Anybody is an Oracle, no doubt about it. And those other three were definitely Oracles too... did you feel how dark and cold it got as that dark one looked this way?"

"It is certainly the Dark Man himself, and I think I have guessed who the lady is. Could the third be The Man those rastas mentioned? Mark my words, we are in a very select company tonight."

The radio scratched, making everybody jump. A static-filled voice said:

"Taurus here, is everything allright?"

. The message was drenched in a susurating distortion. The three quickly looked around, scanning the area for signs of intrusion.

Suddenly everything began to soften. The air lost its cold, and became grainy and somehow translucent. Behind it, behind reality itself, something moved. It was brightly coloured, yet grey, bulging and somehow still thin and sharp as a knife. It scratched against reality, seeking to tear an opening.

They jumped into action. Forming a circle they began to chant against it. It was no usual magick, seeking to change reality. This sought to keep it the same; a billowing chant about cause and effect, orderly time and space, stable matter and moving energy, forces balancing each other in dynamic equilibrium. They sensed the silent support by the ancient figure behind them, strengthening their Will.

The thing threw itself at the thin shell separating it from normal reality sending out shockwaves of itching paradox, but it barely held. It turned itself inside out, revealing a cloud of reflecting planes that hammered against reality while heavy shapes flowed together. The mages threw their Will against it like a searing flame and the planes splintered into snowflakes of light retreating away from the fire. With a triumphant word the air cleared and the cold returned.

The three breathed heavily, slowly relaxing from the attack. The ancient figure had not moved during the whole ordeal.

"Holding off crazies that want to ruin the birthday party, "volunteered" by a certain gentleman... why can't he just decide they were never born? Would save everyone a lot of trouble and paradox."

"They do not play according to the rules. He cannot touch them, and if they manage to sabotage this all the hell will break loose, I assume."

"So we have to take care of his dirty work."

"If Mr. Anybody is not born, then this exciting evening will never have occurred, creating a huge causal paradox. Most probably it would be enough to completely blow apart cause and effect over the span of several decades, involving at least four Oracles and definitely this whole area, perhaps all of reality. And by somehow bringing the other three here by their own free will and without any outside influence he has made sure he will be born."

"Why?"

"Otherwise you-know-who could just remove him. But now their presence will cause something crucial to the child. So they are the real reason Mr. Anybody will be born. And they are too important to the grand scheme of things, I suppose, to be removed."

Hans was far away. "Perhaps their existence even implies the rules... if The Man had never emerged, our "boss" would perhaps never have existed. And the Dark One... maybe they are just reciprocating for the births of each other..."

"It is foolish to speculate on could-have-beens and might-becomes". The voice was chilling, like age itself. Hans paled and whirled around to face the gnarled figure that now stood just behind them. "It has been done. The child is born, and he who you called Mr. Anybody has given it the bracelet. The circle is closed, and the case closed. Go home."

Above the hospital an orbital platform glimmered among the cold stars. A child was born.

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