Chapter 1

”I’m sorry!” Jim shouted toward the white sky, arms raised toward the sun. He swung a leg up on the square marble altar bearing the black runes, dragged up there generations ago, and crawled to the middle of it. ”God, I blasphemed, and I’m here to receive your judgement, your retribution!” He bowed toward the white stone and rested his head on the marking, just as the scripture told him to. He pushed back the beige hood with a quick hand and listened for a sound, but there was nothing.

A sudden gust hit Jim’s bald scalp, and he looked up, wide-eyed.

A giant hand reached down between the edge of the world and the sun, and God spread his fingers over the top of the mountain. They cast a shadow over the whole area, and the next moment, two fingertips pinched Jim’s torso. A booming voice sounded across the sky, but the words made little sense to him. His body swung and landed in God’s palm, and the fingers closed around him. Now the almighty would take his life. As was His right.

Jim swallowed hard, biting his lip so hard blood sprang forth. He was only an acolyte. All he’d wanted was to impress the elders, wanted them to take him seriously. He shut his eyes, accepting his fate. A swirling sensation filled his body as The Hand moved him, and the breath squeezed out of his lungs. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, and he struggled to inhale one more time.

A moment later, hard rock pressed into Jim’s back and shoulder blades, and he could breathe. He opened one eye, then the next, looking into the sky. The Hand drew back, disappeared behind the sun, and the same booming voice sounded again. Then… silence.

Jim scrambled up on his feet, brushing over his beige acolyte robes and the three white stripes on his arms. Unharmed. Had God… forgiven him? Jim’s legs shook, and he fell onto the stone path at the foot of the mountain, staring up into the sky. He swallowed a few times and tried to rise again, but failed.

Shaking his head, he punched his folded legs. ”Stop shaking, damn it!” He sucked in a breath through his nose. ”He forgave you. Jim, you’re not a child. Get. Up.”

Still, it took him some time to get control over his body, and when he did, he mostly staggered through the pine forest. As he reached the clearing, he dared to look up into the sky, shielding his eyes with a hand. It had darkened, making the sun shine even brighter. Night. He’d taken three marks to get back? No, impossible.

”Jim.”

Jim’s head snapped down, and he looked at the elderly monk in a beige robe in front of him. His sleeves had lost its stripes after a generation of learning, but the last stripe had left a bleached ring behind.

”Don. You’re still here.” Jim swallowed. ”I did it. And I survived.”

The man’s wrinkled face split in a smile, and his brown eyes shone as he patted Jim’s shoulder. ”You did more than that. You got touched by God. A thing only the dead have had the honor to experience.” The man peered into the sky. ”But… I wonder. The night has fallen early. Two marks early. That isn’t going to make the timemaker happy.”

”No, probably not.” Jim followed the man’s gaze. ”Do you think it’s because of me? What I did?”

Don smacked the back of his student’s head. ”Stupid! As if any of us have enough influence to make God change the course of time! Do you want to blaspheme and ask forgiveness again?”

Jim swallowed and scraped his shoe on the ground. ”Sorry, Don. I didn’t think…”

”Yes, not thinking things through is one of your talents.”

Jim looked up, and the older one blinked at him. Relief flooded his body. Then he quickly straightened his back. Not a child. He was an adult. Had been for some time. He’d repented for his sin, and they would welcome him back.

”Now…” The old man coughed and nodded in the other direction. ”I’ll head back with the result. You can return to your community house and enjoy the Birthing festivities, and I’ll see you back at the monastery in seven marks.” Don sighed. ”If the timemaker can keep track, now that it’s night. It’s bound to cause speculations about miscalculations.”

”I’ll do my best.”

They started following the stone trail through the forest that would lead them to the city. The Birthing festival would coincide with the 4,400th marking, and he’d heard the city council prepared something special for the occasion. Jim had looked forward to see what, and had pushed the journey up to God’s mountain to the back of his mind. That was before actual God decided that Jim, of all the acolytes, monks, and high monks, was worth his attention. Why? Even though he knew he shouldn’t think about it, it was impossible not to. Why him? He’d never heard of something like that happening before.

”And I’ll take it up with the square,” Don said.

”Huh? I mean, yeah, great.” Jim nodded.

Don kneaded his eyebrows. ”I said that your experience will be noted down in our books and that you probably need to leave a statement. After I bring it up to the square, they will want to talk with you, too.”

”Oh.”

Don clenched his lips tight and patted Jim’s back. ”It’s okay. I’d be amazed if you were fully coherent after an experience like that. Take care of yourself, now, and I’ll see you in seven marks.”

Jim looked up. Somehow, they’d trekked the whole way back to the city without him noticing. ”You too. Take care.”

As his teacher took off between the wooden community buildings to the right, Jim continued forward. Even though God had left these buildings for the First Ones, they were in almost perfect condition. They were smaller than the newer additions, but not by much.

He walked down the stony road between the rows of houses. As he got closer to the center of the city, the preparations for the coming celebrations got more evident. Beige clothes and tapestries hung on the walls of the buildings, and some people had pinned their heirlooms to their roofs. Red and black marbles glinted in the sunlight. Priceless artifacts, handed down from the First Ones, put on display for all to enjoy.

People bustled down the street, carrying bundles of beige fabric, and one or two even carried pieces of wood that they’d carved into the Almighty Hand. The whole city seemed alive, and as he walked, he heard gossip spread about God, reaching down to touch the mountain. Seeing God’s Hand wasn’t uncommon, but since the last two generations, The Hand only hovered over the city itself, leaving the mountain be.

Jim held his head down. If the monastery wanted to make his God touch known, they’d do so at the time they thought was right. Jim tapped his forehead. Think, as Don always told him, think before you act. He’d caused enough trouble through imitating the Almighty, and if he did something more, it wasn’t certain God would be as forgiving.

Jim entered the center plaza, where bigger, flatter tiles overtook the stony road, and he looked at the tricklers up on the dais, just as the timemaker turned the crank. The empty part of the dome sunk slowly toward the ground, and the filled part rose to the top, ten times taller than the man in charge, and five lengths as wide. When it had reached an upright position, the timemaker bolted it in place, and the dust started trickling down, glinting in the sun’s sharp light. Then the timemaker did the same procedure with the smaller one beside it, walked to the base of the dais and increased the length of the last line with an engraving tool.

Maybe Don gave the timemaker too little credit, because his movements were steady.

With a quick count of how many turns remained until the council would start the celebration, Jim decided to head back to the community house. With all the games and whatever the geezers had planned, he would probably need all the time he could get. Especially if the other geezers, the ones at the monastery, needed him to come in to tell his part of what happened up there. Jim’s stomach rumbled. He’d need some food first, though.

He stopped and leaned his head toward the sky. Scraping? Ticking? A mix, barely audible. Then he snorted. No, likely, his mind was all pent up from his encounter with the Almighty. He hit the side of his head with his palm. Yeah, festivities or not, he needed sleep. A lot of it.

Jim walked down one of the many side streets leading from the plaza and looked at the decorations people put up. One man tried to get a green brick, double as wide as he was tall, to stick to the roof by fastening it with a line. The line snapped, and Jim pulled a boy with him as he pressed his back against the wall. The brick slid off the roof and onto the ground, spraying pebbles toward them. Jim checked that the child was okay before he hurried forward and bent down to inspect the block, stroking a hand over the heirloom.

”It looks okay,” he shouted to the man on the roof. Then he continued down the road, keeping a watchful eye for more potential dangers. It would be ironic to get saved by God and then killed by a falling item, which only purpose was to appease Him and praise his great generosity.

At the end of the road, Jim opened the door to community house forty-three and walked inside. Jim walked past the double rows of beds into the second room. Two of his twenty-five roommates, Ann and Zent, divided an enormous pile of food into woven bags made of inner-bark that hung on the wall.

”Jim! Good to see you.” The elderly woman looked up from the table for a second. ”How did it go?”

Ann’s daughter waved him to come closer and pointed at the pile of round breads on the table. Surprisingly, most didn’t have any holes. ”What do you think of this?” She stroked a strand of brown hair behind an ear.

”Think of what?” Jim raised his eyebrows. ”Is something wrong with it? Has it gone bad?”

”No, no,” Zent said. ”But you have a stronger connection to God than any of us, being an acolyte and all. I thought you might know what it means.”

Jim shook his head. ”Explain, please.”

Ann gestured over the lines of bags on the wall. ”This. We’ve already filled them up, and there’s so much left. We simply can’t fit it anywhere.”

Jim walked past the table, looking from the pile to the full bags, and frowned. ”Have we received another house’s share? God is always generous and provides what we need, but you’re right—this is an insane amount of food.”

”We asked around,” Ann said, staring into his eyes. Hers were full of worry. ”But every house in the city has received more than double the normal share.”

”What’s going on, Jim?” Zent took his hands, her eyes pleading.

He cleared his throat and tugged on the sleeves of his robe. ”I believe God has taken notice of all our efforts to praise him, with our decorations for the celebration and all that. He also knows what a big celebration this Birthing is for us, and since he’s so generous, he wanted to give us more food to feast on. He gives us what we need and gives gifts when he is pleased. That’s all.”

Ann and Zent looked at each other, breathing out, a smile forming on their lips. ”Oh, that’s what it is? Praise God’s grace!”

Jim crossed his arms and nodded, but inside, he wondered. God did see the tributes and celebrations they gave and held in his honor, but this was the first time he’d praised them with more food than they needed. Usually, God’s gifts came in all different shapes and sizes, such as statues, new community buildings, or fabric. Something that would stand the test of time.

Jim shoved the thought to the back of his mind, took a piece of bread from his food bag on the wall, and chewed on it as he walked toward his bed. The food was softer, but somehow firmer than usual. Delicious as always, though. He approached the tenth bed, hung up his beige hooded robe, and laid down under the white, soft sheet. He rested his head on his palm and scratched the top of his scalp. He needed to shave it again, so he could look his best if God looked at the life he’d given back.

*******

Jim rose quietly and dressed, then he sneaked past his sleeping room mates into the kitchen. He didn’t know where the extra food had gone, but was glad it had. The more he thought about the extra gift, the more uneasy he felt about it. He didn’t know why he felt that way now, especially since God had shown nothing but kindness to him yesterday, but…

Jim sighed and took a piece of bread, then he walked to the front of the house and took the stairs to the top floor. Well there, he opened up the hatch and climbed onto the ceiling, where he sat on the wooden planks and looked into the sky. According to the monks, now would be the time for prayer and meditation, but after yesterday’s event, he just wanted to watch the darkened sky and the ever-shining sun. Almost like he expected the giant hand to come down again. That thought made him stop chewing. What if God changed his mind? God was all-knowing. He’d know exactly where to pick him up.

He pressed the remaining piece into his mouth and bounded toward the stairs, where he jogged down. But no matter where he went, God would find him. He’d created everything in the city—from the stone roads they walked on, to the buildings, to the very food that they ate. A crumb stuck in his throat, and he coughed.

”Stop,” he whispered to himself. ”You’re going to go crazy.” Jim took a deep breath and turned the handle. Well, if God came for him, he would have at least made himself presentable. Though, if he was honest with himself, he hoped to never get God's sole attention again.

*******

Jim entered the square as the timemaker released the bolts holding the lesser trickler to the dais, and the almost full lower part of the dome swung slightly back and forth, making the dust glimmer in the sunlight. The man stood at the crank, held out his hands, and put them on the lever. The crowd that filled the whole plaza stomped their feet on the flat stones, starting slowly, but building up a crescendo, echoing through the empty streets beside them. Everyone was there for the occasion—except the monks, who, in accordance with tradition, must have started their pilgrimage up the mountain.

The acolyte turned toward the place where he’d stood not long ago, but he couldn’t see the top over the trees. It was too far off. The sky was still dark, except for the bright sun shining down on them all. It must have been the longest night in history by now.

All people except himself stomped the ground, making it shake.

Jim looked back at the other dias when people joined claps with their stomping feet, and hummed a bright but monotone tune.

The timemaker released the bolt holding the big trickler in place and gestured toward the crank. He bowed toward it, as if asking for a dance, then took the lever in his hand.

All sound stopped, except for the humming, which sank to a lower octave. The timemaster pushed the crank forward, and the crowd gave a single clap and stomp with their feet. He turned it another time, and the crowd responded with two claps and two stomps.

Jim’s breath quickened, and he didn’t know why. Something had bothered him from earlier. From before he slept. What was it? He pinched his eyebrows and listened at the crowd clapping and stomping six times. At twelve, the festival would—

Jim spun around. The sky. He’d heard the sky scraping, ticking. Whatever that meant. But it was louder. Loud enough for anyone to hear if they listened. Following his instinct, he pressed his way through the crowd as the latter clapped and stopped seven times. People looked more interested than annoyed when the acolyte shoved himself forward, and the people in the front divided before him.

”I can’t stop turning,” the timemaker said, sweat beading on his brow. ”The calculations will be wrong.”

Jim didn’t respond, but jumped and grabbed the side of the dais. He heaved himself up, and the people beside him helped lift his feet. He scrambled onto the platform and stood in front of the turner, the only space left.

”Everybody, quiet!” he shouted.

Everyone in the square stilled, and a few mumbles broke out; one especially audible. Something about an acolyte touched by God. The trickler’s dome quivered to a stop above him.

”Listen.” Jim stared toward the sun. He hadn’t been wrong—something scraped and ticked up there. As he focused on the sound, it got louder. Then the sound disappeared. Jim and the rest of the city stared at the sun and the dark sky beyond.

”I—” Jim cleared his throat. People started turning toward him. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

An earsplitting crash sounded from above, and all faces turned to the sky. Cracks formed over the sun’s surface, spreading. A sharp snap sounded through the air, and before he could take another breath, the sun shattered.

Pieces of light hurled toward them, and they all stared at the embers. One hit a building. Then another one.

”The sun has come to us!” a voice shouted. ”God has gifted us with his light!”

Another shard of sun came directly at him. Had God chosen him for this? To be a bearer of his light? Jim spread his arms wide, forcing his eyes to stay open, even as the warmth became almost too much to bear. No, he wasn’t close enough. The shard pierced through the air and hit the dome with a clang. The full part of the trickler shattered, and forced the heavy piece down.

All breath escaped Jim’s lungs at the impact, and he landed on the street, consciousness slipping from him. With half-closed eyelids, he followed the embers as they hurtled into the houses and streets around him. People running toward the broken sun, trying to keep a sacred heirloom. Their God’s finest, rarest gifts. Then his eyes closed, and he sank into darkness.