Not long after the cauldron, the bosun went around the ship telling the Ascendant that they’d reached deep water and the viewing would start soon. He said they should head to the poopdeck and sit so they could see the mizzen sail hanging from the Sea Star’s sternmost mast.

The prisoner and Rosalie sat next to each other. “Here we go,” he said. He offered his hand, he was wrapped in cloth like a mummy then, and she took it.

After all the Ascendant were situated, the captain addressed them. He congratulated them on making it so far and said, “In my experience, this first viewing is when yer most apt to nod off and fade away. Try and stay awake. Don’t forget.” He told them that when the person whose life they were watching goes to sleep every night, they might be tempted to think of that as their own sleep and drift into a slumber themselves. “So be attentive. Be vigilant.” He had an aside with Leftenant Commander Mancuso and then said, “Oh, aye. And be compassionate. Other people’s lives’re all different than yer own.”

Altogether, about a hundred Ascendant sat on the poopdeck waiting for the viewing to start. After about five minutes, two men in black body suits appeared looking not at all unlike like Dr. Twelve. Their skin and hair shined with an oily but clean looking sheen. They hauled a big oaken chest shackled in iron.

Rosalie asked the prisoner, “Who are they?”

“No idea.”

Someone in front of them turned and said, “They’re from IT.”

Another of the Ascendant asked, “What’s IT?”

“You know, they handle the computers and stuff.”

The two black men opened the chest and passed out crowns. One said, “Take one and pass it back.”

The other said, “Just hold it. Don’t put them on yet.”

The prisoner and Rosalie passed them back as they came to them. The crown was very thin like a tiara but with a large square jewel set in the forehead. When everyone behind them had one, the prisoner and Rosalie took their own. The prisoner offered his to Rosalie and said, “Will you marry me?”

Rosalie laughed and told him to be quiet.

The black men finished handing out the crowns. They pulled a heavy satchel from the chest and held it high in the air. “We will choose by lottery whose life to watch first.”

Rosalie whispered, “Oh, it’s like Harry Potter.”

Bosun Bicklesworth patted the bottom of the satchel as if to mix up the contents. Then he drew a name. “Soon-Jang?”

Soon-Jang said, “That’s me.”

One of the black men pulled a big ruby from the chest and told them the pass it to Soon-Jang. The oddly black clad technician said, “Do you see how it goes on there?”

The ruby was set in gold and there was a stud that fit a slot above the jewel on his crown. Soon-Jang said, “Yes, it fits.”

The technician said, “Ok, now just you—”

The other black man interrupted the first. He said, “Just Soon-Jang now, the rest of you wait.”

The first one continued, “Yes, only him.” Then he said, “Only you. Please put the crown on your head.”

Soon-Jang did, and the two men and the bosun looked at the mizzen sail. “Excellent,” one of them said. They took some more jewels from the chest and began to arrange them around the base of the mizzen mast and they kept glancing toward the sail.

“Fantastic,” the other one said.

The lead technician took a jug from the chest and spilled the contents on the jewels around the base of the mizzen mast. The empty sail began to glow. He said, “Ok, now the rest of you can put your crowns on.”

Way down deep—the Sea Star was in the deep water by then—a big octopus felt the energy of those jewels pressed to the Ascendant’s foreheads so it began swimming from the depths toward the Sea Star.

The viewing started. Baby Soon-Jang opened his eyes for the first time and what he saw was on the sail. Soon-Jang died when he was thirty-four, killed by his own brother. He took his last breath and the glowing image on the sail faded away. Five Ascendant had nodded off while they watched and were gone. The bosun said it was an average attrition rate and reported it to the captain. The Ascendant were hungry for the first time since candle light first fell on baby Soon-Jang’s newborn eyes more than thirty years ago. The two IT guys collected the jewels from around the mast. They collected the crowns and told the Ascendant to head to the galley. Most of them hadn’t seen the galley and were surprised to be sent belowdecks.

In the galley, they sat eight to a table. Bicklesworth told them to discuss what they’d seen. Soon-Jang sat with his head in his hands. Viewing his life in the way it was projected onto the sail showed much context of which he had been unaware during his tenure on Earth. It seemed like a dream. His brother was working for the Chinese governor the whole time. It was almost incomprehensible. He thought, For such a small amount of money!

They went back to the poopdeck and watched another one. Ishikawa lived to be sixty. He died in a sword fight. Then they watched another one. They watched some more, every one a tale of betrayal and murder. Then they watched Sfethen’s life which was fantastic and amazing. He had been a king and after his viewing the other Ascendant called him King Sfethen. They went to the galley to eat and discuss what they’d seen.

Rosalie and the prisoner sat together as they always did. Rosalie said to him, “I don’t know what I’m going to do after you all watch my life, love.”

The prisoner said, “You’ll be fine.”

She looked around at a dozen eight man tables, mostly full. “I mean... we’re about a tenth over and...” She put her hands over her face.

“It’s ok, baby,” the prisoner said to her.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m so different than them, than you.” Rosalie shook her fists and bemoaned her chagrin, “Oh, what to do?!”

“How do you know you’re different than me? My life could be just like yours.” In all his years on the Sea Star, the prisoner never remembered his life.

She began to sob softly. “No. Just no.”

The prisoner consoled her. Ben-Khan was sitting at their table and he told Rosalie to cheer up. “Was Sfethen’s life the same?”

Rosalie admitted it was not.

Ben-Khan said, “No, it wasn’t. And how about when King Sfethen sunk that dagger into Archerole’s heart? Was that the greatest feeling you ever felt or what?”

Daria, who was also seated with them, said, “Oh my God! Yes! I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone so much in my life. That was one evil bastard.” She halfway meant it. She wasn’t thinking about her own murderer and, even considering him, her superlative would change over the next few viewings. There were greater evils than the evil in Archerole’s heart. Greater evils by far.

Rosalie had taken no pleasure in seeing that man die.

The prisoner said, somehow vocalizing though his vocal chords were long gone, “I know! When I saw the blood start to bubble at his lips I knew he was done for. Man, I hated that guy.”

A man sitting at King Sfethen’s table stood and proposed a toast. They toasted him and everyone cheered. They asked Sfethen questions and they were all glad to have a nice story. Usually the galley was a grim place for the Ascendant on the Sea Star. The viewing was a dark time.

They went abovedecks and sat behind the mizzen mast again. Bicklesworth pulled a name from the satchel held by the two black men: Three Seven DD, who liked to be called Thirtyseven Double D, and JRR Zero, who liked to be called Jarrow.

The bosun called out, “Richard.”

Richard was born in Nebraska in 1941. He moved to Chicago for college and lived there the rest of his days. He didn’t know it but the loft he rented in his freshman year was near the building where H.H. Holmes had run his torture hotel. Nineteenth century aristocrats and other perverts from around the world visited Chicago where they paid to torture in the torture chambers hidden in Holmes’ building. The historical record of the crimes showed that Holmes himself was behind it all but, in truth, he was only the henchman for a cult that had set up a lodge in Chicago. By the time Richard moved to Chicago, the torture hotel had moved to New Orleans but the lodge was still in Chicago and it had grown. The hotel in New Orleans was the inspiration for The Animals’ song The House of the Rising Sun. The wailing in that song wasn’t the singer’s voice, it was a recording of a man being cooked to death. It was what Hank McCoy called a pain song in a song of his own.

Walking to class in the spring semester of his freshman year, Richard was spotted on the street by Malcor. Malcor was his name at the lodge, Paul Feral was his legal name with regards to the United States of America Corporation. Malcor saw the glow of the energy that would eventually lead to Richard’s ascendancy and he reported it to his superiors at the lodge. The lodge watched Richard from afar all through that year and the next.

When they were satisfied that he was just some man alone filled with an energy no one had ever noticed, they conspired to take it from him. At the lodge one night, Malcor proposed to kidnap Richard. Malcor said, “He walks home the same way every night. We should snatch him!”

Malcor’s father, Bron Feral, whose name in the lodge was Sphinctor, and whose parents were ignorant and had never heard the word sphincter in their miserable lives, had another idea. Money had been tight. The Feral family were very well to do when the hotel was in Chicago but the finances had been steadily drained over the decades. By the time Malcor spotted Richard, all the reasonably sellable assets had been sold. They were still nearly millionaires but the Ferals were millionaires no longer. Their income and the lodge’s income wasn’t where they wanted it to be, and Sphinctor sought to improve that. He said, “You say this feller’s real smart?”

Malcor said, “Yes, sir. He’s been acing all his classes. His professors think real highly of him.” Richard was studying finance and business management.

Sphinctor said, “How about we milk him?”

Malcor said, “Yes, sir. I can get him tomorrow night.” He thought his father meant to milk that magic energy out of his body on a cutting board like they did with the poor folk who wandered too far from home in south Chicago. There was hardly any energy to milk in most of those paupers but the lodge enjoyed it just the same. Children always had some energy, even if it was meager. Adults not so much, but the sadists at the lodge still liked the torture even when there was no energy to steal.

Sphinctor said, “No, son. How about we milk him slow? For his life and his money.” Sphinctor explained his plan and the lodge voted in favor of it.

A few weeks later, Malcor introduced himself to Richard. He said, “I’m Paul,” and that he was in Richard’s accounting class but had dropped it. “I remember you were a real hotshot. The prof loved you.” Richard was flattered and agreed to tutor Paul for a small fee. So Richard’s relationship with the Ferals began. After he graduated, Bron Feral got Richard a job at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. Richard married two years later and Malcor was the best man at his wedding. Richard became a very successful trader and quite rich. Richard grew to think of Paul as his best and oldest friend.

Richard told Paul about a real estate deal he’d been working on that had finally closed. He’d netted nearly a million dollars. Malcor brought it to the lodge and they decided Richard was ripe. They kidnapped Richard’s daughter and sent a ransom note with her foot. They made sure Malcor was with Richard when he got it. Richard, apoplectic, wailed his agony.

The note said not to call the authorities but Richard said to Malcor, “I have to call the police.”

Malcor said, “Maybe my father can help.”

Richard knew Paul’s father was some kind of mafia figure but had never really developed a relationship with the man. He said, “Do you think so?”

Malcor said, “It couldn’t hurt to try.” Malcor drove Richard to Sphinctor’s home where the daughter was held. Sphinctor assured Richard that he had heard of the kidnap gang and that the best thing to do was to pay.

Richard wept and Malcor consoled him in the living room of Sphinctor’s baroque home. Malcor winked at his father. Sphinctor opened the door to the dining room so that Victoria could see her father from where she was strapped to a cutting board and gagged. She spasmed and shook and thrashed to get her father’s attention, but it was to no avail. Sphinctor pulled out his penis and testicles behind Richard’s back, and shook them at the girl. She was ten years old.

Though the girl was totally silent restrained as she was, Richard felt something and began to turn. Paul grabbed him by the shoulders and stopped him. He said, “You have to be strong now.” Sphinctor put his private parts away and closed the door to the dining room. Malcor said, “We’re going to get through this.”

Richard paid. It more than doubled the Ferals’ coffers. They killed the girl. They skinned her alive, cut off her arms and legs, and sewed her mouth to a sow’s behind. When she finally died, they ate her. Malcor ate her liver and said, “Mmmm, I love fois gras.”

Years later, they did it to Richard again with his other daughter. Sphinctor had died by that time and Malcor was running the Chicago lodge. Then Richard divorced and became a hermit seeing no one except his old friend Paul whose happy life Richard was glad to hear about from time to time. Then Richard died of old age. Malcor never took Richard because he thought his energy had faded but really it was only hidden behind the pain. Then the glowing image on the Sea Star’s broad mizzen sail faded away after seventy years. The Ascendant were in a somber state in the galley after that. No one said anything. Richard never knew it was Paul.

Richard was sick and didn’t eat anything. Bicklesworth told him he should eat and Richard told him he didn’t want to.

The bosun said, “Richard, this cult is known to us. Aye, we fight them. We fight them and likely you will too once we’re to Exland. Garr, hear you me.” Richard left the galley and went abovedecks. The bosun told the others to discuss what they’d seen.

Rosalie said to the prisoner, “I don’t know why I’m even here, love. My life was so... different.” She thought about Ben and the mountains.

The prisoner said, “It’ll be ok, baby. We’re all here for a reason.” She laid her head down on the table and cried.

They watched another and another. The third life after Richard’s was Daria’s. She was burned at the stake as a witch at the age of twenty-nine. Unlike Rosalie, she was not one. The shaman was merely angry that Daria hadn’t taken to his advances. The mizzen sails glowed with flames and they all heard Daria’s cries and screams fade away as she burned to death. Then the glow of fire on the sail faded and the Ascendant began the march back to the galley.

Rosalie and the prisoner stood on the poopdeck waiting for the single file line to descend onto the quarterdeck and then the waist where was the hatch leading to the galley. Two great tentacles came over the Sea Star’s port side and two came over the starboard side. The Ascendant didn’t see, but the same happened on the Sea Star’s second hull. The orgulous octopus twisted the Sea Star so the crossbeams connecting the hulls splintered and broke. Some of the Ascendant and crew were thrown into the sea, but some were not so lucky. They were thrown into the void that the two hulls skirted, lost forever. The callous creature crushed and the keel cracked. Then it smashed the two hulls together and the Sea Star was destroyed.