Prologue
"You're not much of a hero are you?" I was asked. It was queer to hear a question that we both already knew the answer to. For a second I thought about simply being silent and allowing it to answer for me. But the anger that raged within refused to remain bottled inside me.
"Why ask? You already know." I spat without looking at him. I refused to. Whether he met this retort with anger or a sly grin, I wasn't sure. Instead, I looked at the white walls. The square room offered nothing else. No doors, no windows, not even a light. But somehow this lightless, white room was illuminated. I sat in a cushioned white seat in front of a plain white table.
"It is true; I know all." he said. The cool voice sent a chill down my spine. I looked over met his eyes with anger and wild fear. He was grinning. I could feel cold sweat began to bead on my forehead. At that moment, I couldn't tell if it was due to fear or anger.
"Why me?" I asked him, looking him in his eyes. They were dark violet. His face was pale and his lips were paler. He was cloaked in a black robe that screamed against the snow white walls. He decided to humor me.
"Allow me to repeat myself, Jack. And we've only known each other five minutes, so no need to be upset. Well, that's not entirely true is it? I've known you for quite some time now." he said in a sly tone. He grinned. Some festering thought in the back of my mind ached with fear: has this person been watching me my entire life?
"What the fuck are you?" I asked in a frighteningly calm voice. That cold sweat intensified.
"Humans never did have the best memory." he muttered to himself. "Like I just said, I am one of the Pantheon. The best way to describe me in your Human English tongue is God. Although we were once, just like you, in the post-industrial era. We too were creations of nature. But we have transcended all that, as you could probably guess." he told me simply, never looking away from my face. I found it extremely unnerving. At the same time I found it unfathomably fascinating. I didn't turn away from his gaze but I didn't believe him. I couldn't. I tried to rationalize: it was what I was good at.
"You're a creation of my own mind. I'm either in a lucid dream, stuck in a coma; or I'm schizophrenic and my mind has failed me." I said. My voice shook when those words came from my mouth. It was a terrifying thought, but it was more comforting than thinking that this thing in front of me was not human.
"Now, now, you know none of that is true. I do find it, however, quite impressing that you don't believe it. That's the kind of rationalizing mind you need to advance in a civilization. But enough of that; it's time you hear the reason you are here." Anticipation suddenly bloomed; a lump in my throat made it difficult to breath.
"Us of the Pantheon are quite fond of stories. You, yourself, are quite fond of them as well from what I understand. However, we possess a unique ability to do what you can only dream of; to alter the stories. Allow me to expand. Imagine, if you will, a brick building. It has a set number of bricks to make it stable, yes? Now imagine inserting a brick, forcefully, into the stable structure. Does the structure collapse, or is it stronger than before? The sheer unknowing of what the unnatural brick will do to the natural structure is exhilarating to us of the Pantheon. I believe you humans refer to it as 'Chaos Theory'?" I stood there, trying to soak it all in.
"So, wait, you're saying that you physically manipulate stories for your entertainment?" I asked wondrously but incredulously. It was true that I had often wondered what would happen if I could tap the web of a story so that it might resonate in a different way than it did on paper. But those were only dreams, just as he had said. An eerie chill coursed through my arms and legs; how did he know this? Did he truly posses this ability?
"I see that has captured your attention! In a universe where all is known, we can only do so much. The different paths this manipulation can force the story to take...the unknown is exhilarating! This is something that provides us with a reason to live until the next day. In our shoes, you would do the same, I should think. Humans parallel ourselves in so many ways, but are also extremely distinct. I think that is why the race of humans is so intriguing to read about; and I daresay the author that founded you might be the greatest writer in our history." I broke his gaze only because that was a characteristic of mine during thoughtful introspection. It reminded me of when I read Plato's Republic; I would read lines and then stop and think about what they meant because the words were so heavy. I took a minute to grasp his words and connect them, for they were extremely heavy words indeed.
"So Humans are...characters...in a story...from your universe? So what in the hell does that make me? Some name mentioned in a collection sitting on a bookshelf? I'm a man behind the scenes of a novel?" I shouted. I stood up, and suddenly realized that the chair was on the ground. I hadn't even heard it crash to the floor when I knocked it over just now. I was confused, hurt, and angry. But it was all only exacerbated by the resulting grin of the cloaked...thing.
"Don't be so fretful! You're about to become a main character, don't you see? And why do you question your existence? Did not the Human philosopher Descartes term 'Cogito ergo sum', 'I think therefore I am'? If you believe you exist, then that should be good enough for you." he said matter-of-factly. My knees gave way as the cold sweat peaked in intensity. My head swam. What am I?
"You're a human in a room that is disconnected from all universes. From space and time. Us of a Pantheon have created these. You happen to be a character from a story from which I will pull and insert into another story." I looked up at him. From my perspective, I could barely see his violet eyes above the white table. They dominated the entire room.
"What story?" I asked with a shaking voice. I had never felt so fragile in my life. I was ink on paper; I am nothing but a story. My thoughts were interrupted by a giggle. It belonged to him.
"An exciting prospect, I think, because it's a story you are aware of. We call it 'The Reaper and the Sheppard', you refer to it as...'Mass Effect'?" The name caught my ear and my eyes immediately widened.
"I'm going into Mass Effect?" I asked, relaying my thoughts. I raised myself, standing on wobbling legs. I used the table to support myself.
"Well," he admitted, "not just you. Other characters shall make an appearance, I should think. There have been a couple standing right where you were standing, and, I think, you shall see them in time. But you, you are the center piece, I'm afraid. There's something about regular folks that are more exciting to read about than heroes. And you're not much of a hero are you?"
But we both already knew the answer to that.
