This is by way of being a self-indulgence – a relaxation from the labour of the big novel and a casual glance at what an Epilogue might look like. The usual disclaimers apply and I wish to tip my metaphorical hat to The Jack of Spades who has investigated much more thoroughly than I the relationship I touch only in passing, as it were.
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AfterHe had always considered place shifting one of those rosy myths that furnished the fantasies of novelists and poets. Still, how to explain what had just happened? He had been standing in a low cave about to engage with a mysterious being which was posing a major danger to the populace when a cloud of dust had blown into his eyes. He had automatically thrown up his arm as a shield and squeezed his lids tightly shut. When he opened his eyes seconds later, he was in another place. Here. There had been no sense of movement, just this sudden relocation to another place as though the scenery had been abruptly changed on the stage he occupied. What else could it be but the shifting of place?
With an increasing air of curiosity, he looked about him. He was in the very antithesis of the dim fetid cave he remembered entering. He found himself standing under an limitless sky in a meadow of turquoise grass with pastel blooms glimmering into the distance. The soothing susurration of water falling over stones supplied the background music for whatever he was experiencing. Searching for the source of the sound, he slowly spun on his good leg and saw little to differentiate one horizon from another. Far in the distance to his left, he could just make out what seemed to be a curtain, swaying slightly in an unfelt breeze, suspended from nothing visible and apparently concealing something he could not distinguish.
A faint tickle in the back of his mind made him think he knew this place. Surely he had been here before, at least in a dream. He forced himself to stop and consider carefully. What had happened to him this time? There didn't seem to be any physical change, his left arm and leg were still the machina creations they had been before he was transported; he still needed spectacles to see and a cane to walk, but there was a difference. He was limping less as though the heavy prosthetic leg had grown lighter or his muscles stronger and the pain that had been his companion since his fatal encounter with Sin was absent. It was a mystery which had no obvious solution and he found himself bewildered and disoriented.
In a small way, it was like the feeling he had experienced when he first struggled with the aftereffects of his death and resurrection. The same void in the memory, the inability to make the necessary connections. With a subliminal sigh, he started walking toward the distant curtain since it was the only objective he could fix on in this hazy world.
He had walked for what seemed to be a long time – he could not tell how long for there were no markers to help him judge the duration – when he saw the hint of a dark presence to his left. Squinting to bring the object into focus, he thought it looked like a vast construction of dish-like platforms forming a sort of organic staircase up to some shadowy height. Then, slowly floating up from the oceanic depths of his consciousness came the recognition of what he was seeing. It was the place he and the others had fought and defeated Vegnagun. It was there that he had planned his own destruction in order to overcome the un-sent creature that had roused the great weapon and from there that the forces of the light had emerged triumphant. So this must be the FarPlane! Sheer astonishment brought his process to a halt.
So, he had finally made it! He had finally finished the pilgrimage that had occupied his entire adult life. He had finally and irrevocably died. An overwhelming sense of relief and satisfaction swept through him at the realization. Had he been physically capable of such movement, he would have danced a quick jig of transcendent joy. Finally! With a wry twist of a smile, he considered his current situation. He would have thought that a merciful providence might have provided him with his own limbs back once he crossed the barrier between life and death for the last time. And given him back his raptor vision. However, that apparently was not the way things worked here and he must content himself with what he had. At least he was done with living. He did wonder when he could merge into the great mass of non-existence and quit his awareness as a distinct individual. All the teachings of his elders had suggested strongly that death led to a quiet, unconscious absorption into the whole of what had been and to freedom from the burden of discrete thought and responsibility. It seemed they were wrong or such release was not instantaneous with extinction. This entire line of thought was exceeding strange to him since he had lost faith in the very concept of the FarPlane many years ago.
What if the destruction of Sin and Vegnagun had radically changed the structure of the universe? What if eternity was just a dreary continuation of the old world in somewhat more pleasant surroundings? He was torn; should he revisit the stairway to the last battleground or continue on toward the the mysterious curtain which was now perceptibly closer? After some pondering, he chose to pursue the curtain only because it was an object new to him, one of which he had no experience. If this was truly eternity, he would have all the time he needed or wanted to visit everything that was to be found here so the choice really didn't matter. As he continued on, he noticed that he was feeling no hunger, thirst or fatigue. That, more than anything else convinced him he was indeed dead this time and in some sort of other world whether it was what Spirans knew as the FarPlane or not.
After another timeless interval, he perceived that he was within arm's length of the curtain, now seen to be an insubstantial yet impenetrable wall of subtly shifting light, like that which sometimes graced the skies in the northern reaches of Spira. He reached a hand to touch the moving pattern and felt his wrist seized in what seemed to be a human grasp. At the same time a voice spoke, hurting his ears.
"What is your name? Don't you know the procedure here?"
He stood astonished for a moment before collecting himself and answering. "I'm called Nooj and I have just arrived here so I know none of the procedures."
"Ah, I see. Well, you can't go through this barrier unless you are Called by someone on the other side and then you must make yourself known to one of us – the Doorkeepers – and we will show you where to go to meet your visitor."
"I don't understand any of this. How can I know if I've been called and what is this calling about?"
"You will be powerfully drawn to this place when you are Called and the Calling ... Well, that's hard to explain. This..." the invisible being made an expansive gesture which Nooj felt as a wind brushing his face, "is where eternity touches time. Where the immortals may speak to the mortal and farewells may be said, explanations made and apologies offered. This is where you settle your final account with the living."
"I don't understand. I thought I'd be freed from all this human preoccupation with setting things straight once I got here. I'm looking for the Nothingness I was promised."
"Are you now? You won't find it here. You're in the basic Spiran FarPlane and it's totally concerned with reconciliation and making everyone feel good about themselves. I don't know why you weren't told about this while you were alive."
"Never mind. It would take a major part of eternity to explain. Have I been Called by anyone?"
Nooj heard the sound of pages being turned. "No, I don't see your name on the list. It is spelled En Oh Oh Jay, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Did you leave any friends behind when you made the crossing?"
"That's a hard one. I had some companions-at-arms, a mentor or two and a pregnant mistress. I was never a very friendly mortal."
"And so now you're a friendless Immortal," the Doorkeeper laughed cruelly. "No, no Callings so you can just wander off and amuse yourself."
"What's to be done here? Are there any other Immortals to talk to?"
"Not unless you're a member of a recognized grouping. You know, like a Yevonite or an Al Bhed or a Hypello – that sort of social club."
Nooj cast through his memories, "I founded the Youth League. Are any of that group here yet?"
"Let me see," again the sound of rustling paper. "No, I don't see any group using that name. There's a small contingent called the Elite Guard which is always mooning about somebody called the Undying which seems to have a bit of your aura about it. They're over near the foot of the staircase you must have seen on your way here."
"Elite Guard? Oh god – it's that flock of females who decided to worship me back at the Mushroom Rock Headquarters. Is that the best you can do?"
"For the moment, check back in an eon or so; things do change here if slowly."
"Thank you." Nooj had turned to leave when he remembered, "How does one summon a Doorkeeper if one is Called?"
"Don't worry about it. If you're Called, a Doorkeeper will be expecting you. Just avoid this area until you receive a Calling."
Nooj spun slowly around, surveying the unvarying meadow. He had not expected any afterworld at all – much less one that promised to be an eternity of boredom. A man who had always avoided other people whenever possible, he thought that this should be his Paradise indeed, this enclosed garden of solitude. Somehow it didn't feel that way. There appeared to be nothing to do, no tasks demanding his attention, no refining his skills at battle – even if he had his weapons which seem to have vanished along with the world which had produced them. Why had the machina implanted in his body remained – and his cane – when so much else had disappeared? He started to ask the Doorkeeper what the rules were for that only to discover that the disembodied presence of that being had dissipated as well. He was alone again.
The music of water falling over stones was still detectable even though attenuated. If he could find that place which he remembered vaguely from his first visit to this Plane, he would sit down on the feathery grass and think about what to do next. He started walking toward the white sound of the falls.
After a considerable trek, he was able to see something on a horizon that had gradually made itself known. There was a delicate shift in the color surrounding him, more green was becoming noticeable and the flowers were deeper in hue. There was, indeed, a shape emerging from the meadow. He hurried as quickly as he could toward the phenomenon. Yes, suddenly rising before him was a wall of silver-grey stone polished by a flashing veil of water. And sitting on the grass and looking at the sight was a male figure with his arms resting on his knees.
The man was dressed like a Warrior, in a scarlet uniform identical to that sported by Nooj. The man was unusually tall and broad in proportion, even sitting as he was with his legs drawn up and his head thrown back.
"Olefer! Father!" Nooj cried out as he recognized the stranger.
"I am Olefer and who are you?" The man's deep voice seemed to shatter the quiet of the scene and fragment the placidity, making Nooj's senses reel so that he stumbled to the ground near the older man.
Pausing for a moment to recover and collect himself for this unexpected encounter, Nooj replied, "I'm Nooj – your son, your only child, your only son." He stretched out his hand toward the figure.
"Don't touch! Can't tell what might happen. So you're dead, are you? I thought you'd be along sooner rather than later. You were always a reckless one. Lost a good part of yourself, I see. I suppose our blood-line's extinct now. Never thought I could rely on you to preserve it." Olefer turned his eyes back to the towering mossy falls with implicit dismissal.
"I never meant to leave you on that field – it's just that there was a coven of Mages and I had to..." Nooj began his oft-rehearsed justification to his parent.
"It doesn't matter; you did what you had to do. I was long overdue for death anyway. I shouldn't have called you a coward; you weren't. On my way here I saw what you had done and regretted what I said but you never sought me out so I couldn't tell you."
"I lost my belief in this place and it didn't seem right to come begging when I didn't believe in any of it. And, about the birth-line ... it's safe. I left my mistress pregnant with twin boys."
"Twins? What have you been up to? Our people don't produce twins." Olefer turned his full attention to his son.
Nooj had begun to explain to his father the conditions surrounding the conception of the two boys when an irresistible summons tugged at him. This must be what the Doorkeeper had meant. He struggled to his feet and prepared for the long walk back to the curtain when he saw that his destination was no more that a dozen feet away. He looked back at Olefer who waved his hand and said, "Go see who your visitor is; we'll have time after you finish with your mortal. It's probably that mistress of yours."
The Doorkeeper was waiting; Nooj sensed the unseen presence as he neared the curtain and then felt his right hand taken by the being. "Come this way; I'll take you to your visitor."
He passed easily through the wall of light and into a vast circular area with mist obscuring the surface beneath his feet. Before him was a broad column of spinning color which, like the main curtain, parted at his touch. Inside he found himself facing LeBlanc across a nacreous table. Her abdomen was noticeably swollen and her manner dejected.
"LeBlanc! How long have I been gone?" He had thought it to be less than a day.
"It has been six months, my love, and I have been Calling for you every day. I miss you so much. Life without you isn't worth bearing. If it weren't for the ..."
"Six months! It can't be that long; I just got here and there have been no Calls. How are you? Is your health well?"
Anger flared in her eyes, "Your sons are still thriving, if that's what you mean. As for me, I am alone and lost. Why did you have to take that Final Mission? Why couldn't you stay with me and be content?" She sank into the chair on her side of the table and, dropping her head into her hands, began to weep convulsively.
He reached across to her and was dismayed to see his hands pass though her substance like a projected image through a fog. "Please don't cry. I can't touch you to comfort you but please ... believe that I care about you, not just as the mother of my sons but as the supportive companion you always were to me in every way. Our life together may have been short but it was a good life and the pleasure we shared made much of my existence on Spira tolerable. Those memories are never to be lost, not even here. Is there any way I can help you now?"
"Let me come and look at you when I need to and stay here until our sons are old enough to learn who you are." She had control of herself again and was stroking his insubstantial face as though they could both feel the caress.
"I didn't know I could leave but, of course, I'll be here until you give birth and as long afterwards as you need me. How much longer do you have?"
"Only three and a half months, if the calculations are right. The Healers are telling me it will be an easy time. I'm not sure I believe them but I'll not flinch. Nooj, I so much want to show you your children. I wish you could hold them." Tears formed in her eyes again.
"Be strong like you were at our parting. Men of my race don't hold their children much in any event. We are content to admire them and the women who bear them. I know the boys will be worthy because they have your blood as well as mine." He had always been uncomfortable around emotions and awkwardly sought to deflect another spasm of tears.
"I see you still have the machina limbs – do you still have the phantom pains? Does nothing change when we pass over?"
"No pain anymore and I'm not certain myself about the implants. There are changes, but ..."
The Gatekeeper's voice interrupted, "Time, gentleman."
He was being pulled away from the meeting by some unknowable force and watched her disappear like beam of light obscured by a passing cloud with nothing save the sound of a plaintive wail to mark her passing. Then he was once again at the place of waterfalls with the aurora curtain nowhere in sight.
Olefer raised a brow. "Let me guess – I was right? That was the miracle woman, the one carrying two sons for you?"
"Yes, it was LeBlanc and about the twins ..."
"Never mind. I trust you are correct about the number and are sure that they're really yours. I hope so because that's all of our family that's left. We were always too quick to die and too slow to mate. Well, I must be going now."
"Where are you going? Are there any others of our tribe here and, if so, where are they?"
"I'm going into the Nothingness. I only stayed to talk to you. You're bound to this place until you've cleared your slate with those you wronged, after that you can go on wherever you like. The only decent thing about all this is that you can choose your own eternity. Nothing makes you go on until you're ready but you can't go until you've paid off your moral debts. I don't know if there are any others like us and don't have any idea where to go to seek them. I'm relieved to have seen you and made my apologies and now – goodbye."
"Stop! Tell me – how does this place operate?"
The older man paused and turned to face his son, "I thought I just told you; this is the Spiran FarPlane. Many Spirans stay here because this is what they expected and they don't know any better. There is an infinite number of Planes beyond this and after you've cleaned up the messes you left behind, you can choose which you prefer. Only one choice though; you can't try one out and later change your mind. When you are ready to move on, be sure you know what you want. As I said, I'm on my way to the Plane Of Nothingness. Well, good luck." With that Olefer walked into a crimson rectangle that materialized before him and was gone.
Nooj stood indecisively for a time, wondering how he was expected to learn how to function in the peculiar universe in which he found himself with neither a guide nor a guidebook when a movement caught his eye. Striding toward him from across the meadow was a slim figure in black. With a resigned groan, he waited for her to come within reach of his voice.
"Hello, Paine. When did you die?" For some unexplained reason he was not surprised to see the woman here, clad in her usual outfit, looking somehow smaller without her omni-present sword.
She stood, legs apart, arms akimbo, skewering him with her dried blood eyes. "I put a knife in my heart when I heard you were dead. It seemed the proper thing to do. I didn't want to keep on marking time without even the hope that you would leave that stupid slut and come back where you belonged."
He didn't answer. The relationship between them had been complex, dating from the time they were fellow aspirants to the Crimson Squad. He had still been recovering from his mortal injuries and had found in her another laconic, somewhat cynical soul which reflected his own. They had become lovers until he, in a state of mania, had attempted to kill her and several others and had later commenced a prolonged liaison with LeBlanc. Since he himself was not completely sure what had propelled his choosing the Syndicate leader over the swordswoman to be the mother of his children, he knew he had no hope of explaining it to Paine. He thought he might have been exhausted with running from the blonde seductress for so long but that didn't fit his concept of himself as heroic and decisive and was certainly no rationale for so major a decision. So, like the sensible man he was at his core, he held his tongue.
"Why did you take that last mission when you didn't need to? And why did you live with that idiot when you could have had me? I can't make any sense out of all of this, not even this totally unsatisfactory place we're stuck in. What are we supposed to do here? Vegetate and pray?" She had never been one to suffer foolishness fondly.
Nooj sat down on the ground and gestured for her to join him. "You weren't given any instructions either? Maybe you have to be religious to quality for explanations. As well as I can understand, this is where we have to stay until we have settled all our accounts with both the living we left behind and the dead who have preceded us. I agree it's not what I was hoping for when I spent all those years as a Deathseeker. As for the rest, I have absolutely no logical justification why I made the choices I did." He belatedly realized that silence was no longer an option since he could not leave the FarPlane until he had effected some kind of reconciliation with the pewter-haired woman.
Paine threw herself down beside him and crossed her legs, scowling with irritation. "So now what? This isn't what I expected either. I thought I would go to some sort of place where I could try my skills against other Warriors and spend the time rehashing some of my better battles. By the way, why are you still using those implants? Some sort of affectation? Didn't they offer to restore the real things? I thought things were run more efficiently on this side." He was the only person who had ever been able to provoke her into torrents of words. It was not an unmixed blessing.
Nooj sighed, "I'm getting tired of having to explain that I don't know why I'm not intact again. It's just the way it is. Do you think I like limping and squinting?"
"Sorry, I'm not the most tactful woman in the world ... in either world, I guess."
"You never were; that's why we got along so well." He unthinkingly reached for her with his right arm and, to his surprised delight, was able to grasp her and draw her into his embrace. "You're the first person I've been able to actually touch in this place. For god's sake, stay put."
Paine laughed and nuzzled her head against his chest. "Just like the old days, huh? Us together again and Blondie stuck at home with a big belly. I ought to beat you up for what you've done to me. Trying to kill me..."
"That wasn't me."
"It was you who moved in with that tramp and knocked her up; you can't deny that." With a sudden move, she rammed her body into his, throwing him on his back and straddling his waist with her hands pinning his shoulders.
He didn't try to dislodge her, just lay there looking up into her theatrically snarling face and grinning. "Just like the old days. You never could keep your body off mine. Please, Madame Paine, I'll do what you say, anything you say." He managed a creditable falsetto, pretending to cringe in fear.
"Will you, now?" She rolled off him and lay relaxed, her short hair tickling his nose as she butted gently against his chin. "I don't suppose we can resume our ... er ... friendship on this level."
"Why not? Nobody seems willing to tell us what the standards are here and so far as I can tell, everything about me that worked before I died still works. How about you?"
"Everything reporting for duty, captain. But what about your wife?"
"We never formally married. She is the preserver of my genetic heritage and I honor her for that but she's alive and I'm not – that does seem to make a difference. ... Why are you trying to spoil the mood?" He gent;u squeezed her right nipple with his machina fingers.
Paine drew a deep albeit shaky breath and deliberately draped her body over his, matching limb for limb. "I'll bet I can get my leather off before you can get out of that uniform."
"Impetuous woman," he stroked down the length of her back, sliding his right hand under her shorts. "Let me help you out of yours and then you can return the favor. More fun for us both and, you forget, we have all the time in the world. In any world."
She snuggled contentedly into his arms, "I knew there was a reason we made you our captain. You always did have the most brilliant ideas. Those things that look like ties are really snaps. Ready when you are."
He reached for the first buckle.
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