IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU READ THIS AUTHORS NOTE FOR THE FATE OF THE WORLD IS AT STAKE! =O
Well, maybe not, but still.
This story is based of the philosophy of daemonism. I repeat, a philosophy. Not a religion. The basis of this story is all real. The daemon page is real, many people that appear in later chapters are based off of real people, TDF is real. Also, the introduction on The Daemon Page goes on for a bit longer than in this, which is why I cut it off and edited a bit. I'll tell you more on this at the end.
As for why I'm doing this... I think half of it is that, in my mind, Ben would make a really, really fun daemian when he's older. The other half is shameless advertising. xP Don't worry, though, you can still read this if you don't want to be a daemian yourself. I'm fine with that.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ben 10, The Daemon Page, The Golden Compass, or any of those other books I mentioned. Although I did come up with SCF.
"One person was killed and three people were injured from the armed robbery, and police are still on the case trying to find who it was…"
Ben sighed, feeling extremely guilty. He turned the TV off and hid his head in his arms. He made one selfish decision to be normal again, and innocent people get killed. He wished he could just go hero and fix everything he had done. But he knew that wouldn't work.
He wished someone would come up to him, comfort him. Even just talking to him would be nice. But no one was there. Grandpa was busy driving, and Gwen wasn't on that trip. He never knew he would miss her this much. After all that superhero bonding they went through, saving each other's lives and what-not, they really got close. She was one of his best friends. And having to leave her in Singapore with her parents until the middle of next school year didn't exactly make him feel good.
He thought about Grandpa. He had been a bit… disturbed. Something was going on in the Plumber world, and because he didn't have the Omnitrix anymore, he couldn't tell him. He didn't bug him about it.
All his friends were either gone or whacked up. But, unlike all those times where he was fighting aliens, he knew no one would come to the rescue.
He felt lonelier and more depressed than he ever have in his life.
He sighed again.
He groped around for the laptop at the edge of the table and dragged it in front of him. He needed to sort some problems out. But first, he needed to find out what those problems were. He opened it and went directly to the Sumo Slammer Card Creator Forum, the place where he spent most of my time online. The reason? It's a needy forum.
SSCCF (or mostly SCF) is full to the brim with troll, flamers, idiots, and so on. But newbs are attracted to it like moths to a porch light, and they continuously dive in with no regard for what happens behind the scenes. The older members take a large amount of pride in stomping all over theses poor newbies, calling them "stupid n00bs" and so forth. At first he came because it was the most active place to put the cards he made on the actual card creator, but he stayed because it needed so much help. He struggled though the storm of nasty comments and made it to the elite members, and he worked behind the scenes to prevent flame wars and educate the idiots.
But the saddest part is that it was his only replacement for superheroing.
He went straight to the General section, since that's where almost everything happened. He would just do what he always did- go thread by thread and see if he can find anything starting up. The first one was a nearly-brand-new and sarcastic-looking one titled "daemons? yeah right," by Master K. That looks controversial, he thought, clicking.
--
oh man, this sites a riot. its all about those daemon from the golden compass, and how these people believe they actually have them! xD i mean, how crazy is that?
(Link)
tl;dr: a bunch of crazies talk about little invisible talking animals
--
He rolled his eyes. Belief bashing was always what K specialized in, and he was usually wrong, so he wasn't about to take his word for it. He needed to check it out himself. He clicked on the link and came very dark page with gray writing. On the top was a banner of an old guy making bunny ears to a huge cat-lion thing he was snuggling that read "the dæmon page". There was a small blurb in the middle of the page:
Welcome to The Dæmon Page!
Created in 2003, The Dæmon Page was the first website dedicated completely to the philosophy of dæmons, and the community is still going strong today. Whether you're a veteran to the idea or are just hearing about it for the first time, we hope you'll enjoy your visit. In short, a dæmon is a person's subconscious voice projected in animal form, giving unwavering companionship, and eventually settling into a form that reflects the essence of who you are. To learn more, please visit the Introduction.
"Okay," he muttered, clicking on Introduction. He was brought to a new page with a different banner, this time a surfer boy with a goat-thing next to him. Under that, next to a picture of a cheetah, was "Introduction, In Short." Based on the size of the lettering and the scrollbar, this was not going to be all that short. He took a deep breath, knowing that he couldn't argue K's point if he didn't have any info, and began.
If you chose this page to read first, you're probably wondering: What is a dæmon? Well let me start out by assuring you it has nothing to do with 'demons' and their curved horns, red eyes, and skewers. The dæmon, though pronounced the same way, is something much different. Plainly put, your dæmon is you.
He wasn't sure if that made it crazier or saner.
Everyone has one. The consensus used to be that a dæmon was simply a reflection of a person's soul, but over time the community has come to see them more as a part of the subconscious assigned a gender, name, and a symbolic animal form.
He decided it was saner.
So it might be more accurate to say the part of us that's the dæmon is what makes us capable of having a soul; they aren't our soul in its entirety, but a necessary half. Take away what constitutes the dæmon, and you lose your self-awareness, your rationale, your voice of conscience, and your creativity. It's because we have a soul that we're able to contemplate our dæmon.
Never mind, he thought. Crazier. He kept reading nonetheless, because although he didn't admit it to himself, he was intrigued.
So this makes the dæmon more a useful mental construct: a link to the subconscious, your internal companion, and many things more.
And it's sane again. But in a more "coping with how sucky your life is" way.
The dæmon is part of your consciousness - that part of your psyche that makes you different from the animals. Some would say the dæmon represents our ability to be truly self-aware, which animals cannot do. Everyone knows their dæmon on a subconscious level. You have likely 'heard' your dæmon many times before without thinking anything of it. They're the voice in your head that chides when you do wrong, is rational when you're lost, laughs when you do something silly, or spills out your honest emotions while we stand silent. They're the part of you that'll agree when you're being level-headed and play Devil's advocate when you're too biased. Knowing your dæmon results in getting more in touch with that part of yourself and becoming more aware of that voice. It means getting to know yourself better, appreciate yourself, and accept who you are.
And now it sounded like something straight out of one of his mom's Yoga retreats, but really, really sweet at the same time. Why was it? Maybe I could ask my dæmon, he chuckled inwardly. But he didn't really feel that way. No matter how sarcastic and bashing his thoughts were, he was still taking this seriously. A little too seriously for comfort.
Let me assure the skeptic straight away that knowing your dæmon doesn't require a 'belief' in anything, per se. The dæmon is an aspect of you, and you exist. Your mind exists. The only faith dæmons require is-
"What'cha reading, Ben?"
"Gah!" Ben shouted, closing the window and almost falling out off the seat.
Grandpa rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry 'bout that."
"No, it's fine," he replied. "Where are we?"
"We're still in Wisconsin. And Ben, I know how much you hate bookstores, but I need to stop in one for a second."
"Whatever," he grunted, closing the laptop. "But let's make it quick."
As they exited the Rustbucket and crossed the street, Ben's mind raced. He wanted to go back, finish the article. This wasn't something he should've been in to. Weird psyche-paranormal stuff was Gwen's territory. But was it really paranormal?
Maybe the reason he liked it was because it wasn't.
When he was reading it, there had been one phrase the stuck out like a sore thumb- "Everyone has one." It was so bizarre, so seemingly magical, but everyone can do it. It was special, but not.
The thing he had loved about the Omnitrix was that it made him special. He could do what others couldn't. But the drawbacks were too much. Every time he went hero, he became less and less human. He was too different.
But everyone had a dæmon. It was special to know yours on a conscious level, but not to have one. He could be atypical and extraordinary, but still normal. Still human.
Suddenly, the whole concept didn't seem all that crazy.
He became aware of his surroundings again and found himself walking aimlessly alongside a young adult bookshelf, randomly looking at covers. Twilight, no. Maximum Ride, no. The Hunger Games, no. Nothing was catching his attention, and he didn't expect anything to. But his life is pretty much built on the unexpected, so something caught his eye.
The Golden Compass, by Phillip Pullman. Wasn't that the book that Master K had been talking about? He picked it up and skeptically opened up to the first page. He noticed one thing before anything else- the word dæmon.
It was all over it. He started at the top and scanned the page down. Then the next page. And the next. He was in a trance almost. It was about a girl named Lyra doing something he wasn't paying much attention to. All of his attention was on Pantalimon. He was a dæmon, sticking by her side the entire time, switching forms once or twice, and trying to talk her out of doing something stupid. Well, now he knew where the idea came from, and it sounded like a ton of fun.
He went back to the beginning, reading it over again. He kept reading and reading and reading longer than he had ever read before in one sitting. He read until he didn't know he was reading. That is, until he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
He looked up, blinking a few times. Grandpa was standing in front of him, smiling. "Found a good book?" he asked.
"Heck yeah." He studied the page number so he wouldn't loose his page and closed it delicately.
"You have some money left," he pointed out. "You could buy it."
Ben meditated on that for a moment. He had been saving that money to buy a Sumo Slammers figurine at the small convention they would be going to next week. Did he really want to miss out on that? Sure, the book was good- really good- but…
He hesitated, "I-"
"I say buy the book."
The voice came out of nowhere. It was the soft, sweet voice of a lady that Ben had never met but kind of wished he had. He looked to the right, in search of the noise. Nothing. He looked to the left and gawked.
Right next to him he saw a small, yellow antelope, an exact replica of the one on The Dæmon Page. Well, he didn't really see it as much as a perfect copy was put in his mind's eye, but he didn't notice. Her notched, slightly spiraling horns protruded back and up out of her head like corkscrews. Her multicolored head was pointed at him, and she stared right at him with her chocolate colored eyes.
"Go on, hero," she said. "Get caught reading."
He felt his grandpa's bemused stare burning into him, and he looked forward again. But, rather than looking like nothing happened, he broke into a huge smile. "I'll take it."
Ben and Grandpa walked along the sidewalk on their way to the Rustbucket, a book each in hand. While Grandpa was focused on getting to the RV, Ben was following blindly, more focused on the antelope next to him.
"So, you're my dæmon?" he thought, hoping he didn't need to talk out loud. He didn't.
"Yep," she replied.
"What's you're name?"
"Dunno."
"So, you're me."
"Yes."
"And you're a girl."
"Yes."
"Is that normal?"
"How should I know? I haven't read the whole thing."
He sat down on the chair-couch thing, and his dæmon hopped onto the table in front of him. Now that the initial "OMG" moment was over, she didn't look nearly as clear. The horns had lost their color and the patterns were fading into each other a bit. Ben didn't care. No matter how clear she was projected, she was still his dæmon.
And, although he didn't know it, she would be for the rest of his life.
If you are interested in becoming part of the awesometasity that is daemons, google The Daemon Page and click on the first thing on the page. It's long, but trust me, it's worth it. (Also, a daemon being the opposite gender is much more common than it being the same. Just for the record.)
I hoped you enjoyed it!