Nobody told me godhood needed an instruction manual.
The first sensation I felt was a vague sense of falling.
I didn't feel any fear. Curiosity, yes, because my vision still wasn't there. But that dread of falling, that feeling in the pit of your stomach? I didn't feel that.
Come to think of it, I didn't feel a stomach, either.
No panic arose from this realization. I had to think about that, but while I was contemplating my (lack of) navel, the darkness I'd been surrounded by flared with light.
Gently, the sensation of motion slowed and stopped, as my vision cleared and resolved where I'd ended up…
I saw a blue box.
After a few moments, the blue box vanished, revealing where I was.
It was a throne room. I could tell that much. Shining marble pillars inlaid with gold designs stretched up far into the air, meeting a dome of swirling color high above my head. The inset stones of the floor were also smooth marble, the gleaming surface showing not a speck of dirt or dust.
The stone steps at the far end of the room were carpeted in red, leading up to a gleaming, elaborate throne at least twelve feet in height. It was ostentatious and shining with its own inner light, making a bold statement.
Standing right before that throne, looking down at me, was a woman. Tall, angelic, and lovely, by my reckoning. Her sculpted body had just the right proportions, and the sheer, flowing robes left her slender arms free... along with an ample amount of bosom. Her skin was a gentle, light mocha in coloration, though her eyes were a piercing blue, and her hair a cascade of rich violet rather than a humanlike color.
I glanced down, to find myself clad in a boring outfit of simple shorts and a plain white t-shirt. I looked at my hands, revealing youthful and slender hands that did not appear to have worked a single day of hard labor in my life. I had a faint olive complexion, and the chest of a healthy but not robust young man.
It was about now that I realized I had no clue if this was what I was supposed to look like. It felt right, and I had no dysphoria over my body, but no attempt to bring up my own appearance could pull the slightest glimmer of a memory.
"Welcome," the melodic voice of the woman spoke, breaking into my thoughts. She took several steps downward. "No doubt you have questions. This is common. I will explain what I can, in the time we have here."
I couldn't remember what I looked like, or my name, but I did have memories. I knew things. I could even remember books I'd read, and some fleeting memories of reading them. Those came to me now, as all the pieces fell into place.
"I've died, and you are here either to guide me to the afterlife, or reincarnate me." I paused. "Possibly in another world as your champion? Are you the goddess of another world?"
I knew as I spoke the words that some of my ideas came from fiction, but this really did seem to match those thoughts.
"Why can't I remember my name? Did I really die? I don't remember..."
The goddess paused, and then smiled. "Good, you already accept that you are dead. That does make this easier." She folded her hands together, heaving a breath that should have been distracting... but I realized that while I academically knew her to be attractive, I felt no real desire to stare.
Oh right. Dead. No hormones.
"Your soul has been randomly selected to ascend past your world," the goddess explained, maintaining that radiant smile. "As is standard practice in these cases, we have removed many of your memories pertaining to personal name and identity, but preserved your knowledge."
I breathed in. It hit me, then, that I didn't need to. I hadn't realized it, but I had yet to take a breath. Only now did the crisp, clean scent of the air hit me, the hint of a floral perfume tickling my nose. I definitely could breathe, but I had no need to. How strange.
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"Right," I said, recovering my wits somewhat. "I've heard of things like this. You randomly selected me to perform some task. I'd introduce myself, but you erased my name. What do I call you?"
The woman's gown shifted in her grasp, revealing slippers of purplish glass, and took the last step down the stairs. "Names are difficult to truly understand, when we are communicating this way. I will tell you, but know that I do not know how your mind will hear it."
She began striding toward me, every step an elegant, dainty placement of foot. My eyes noticed this, then went directly to her ever-smiling face again. My knowledge bubbled up, warning me not to trust anyone on appearances alone. She looked like a lovely, benevolent goddess. Just human enough to be attractive, with just enough alienness to seem beyond.
That was suspicious.
As soon as I thought that, I realized that something wasn’t quite right with how she appeared. Her figure and face were gorgeous, but they were just a touch too perfect, too symmetrical. The term that bubbled to my mind from the depths of my knowledge was uncanny valley.
"I am the High Administrator of the Orpheus Universe Cluster," she said as she approached. "As such, you may call me Orpheus, or High Administrator, or some combination of these, as you desire. The manner of our communication will let me interpret it properly."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then paused to stare at my finger. Why had I done that? Did my habits carry over even if I had lost the memory of what they were? One more question for the pile.
Instead of dwelling on that, I spoke about the elephant in the room. "Orpheus Universe Cluster. So you're basically the goddess over multiple universes, and plucked me from mine for some reason."
She shook her head. "Not exactly. That is a gross oversimplification of my role."
Orpheus halted just a few feet from me, and opened her right hand, palm up toward the vaulted ceiling but level with my chest. "I oversee many universes, it is true, but each of them are handled by their own Administrator. Your Administrator, Pleiades, tends to keep to themselves. I did not need their permission to retrieve you."
Above her palm, a translucent oblong sphere appeared, a three-dimensional ellipse. It was dark around the edges, but clustered in the center was a white 'web' of light, making a sort of honeycomb-like structure.
Abruptly, I realized what I was seeing. That structure was made up of stars – no, galaxies! Thin, thread-like clusters of galaxies, forming a vague bubble-filled shape within the dark egg-like projection. It was a three-dimensional image of a universe, and I could somehow dive in and 'see' some of the details. I could feel a faint power radiating from the projection, and a subtle feeling of growth that I couldn't put my finger on.
"Is that… my universe?" I asked uncertainly. "I actually thought it was a sphere…"
Orpheus clasped her hands together. "A sphere is a common first choice, but seen as rather conservative. It doesn't have enough entropy to have a good rate of return, even if it is cheap to maintain." She hesitated. "Actually, even an elliptical closed universe like your own is old-fashioned. Your universe has been net negative for some time, but it was an interesting experiment and old Pleiades has enough success to his name that it has been kept around, so long as he pays the difference out of the proceeds of his other projects."
I took another breath. This was getting a little much to process.
"Okay," I started. "So you plucked me from my universe to do something. From what you're saying, it isn't to become the destined hero of another world, like I thought. You're an over-Administrator of people who manage entire universes, so why do you need me?"
Orpheus shook her head, "Oh, no, not a hero! Not at all! That would be a waste!" She opened her hand again, and a tiny glowing point of light shimmered above her palm.
"This is a World Seed," she explained. "Every universe takes energy to maintain, and generates energy in turn. Thinking beings generate the most by their actions. This varies by how significant it is for them and how much they affect their universe, with a heavy bias toward how much it affects other thinking beings. Sometimes, we get enough to make one of these."
I blinked as Orpheus gave me the answer to a fundamental question of existence as a casual conversation piece. "So… the meaning of life is to do things? That's it?"
The woman couldn't help but smile. "Indeed. It is a common question of former mortals to ask what it all means, but in fact the act of living and doing things is the point. The very act of making significant decisions and influencing the lives of those around you generates the energy that makes your universe continue to exist… and eventually birth a new universe."
Of course that led me to immediately ask why the universes had to multiply, but I held that question back. Instead, I asked something more simple. "So we all live and die to keep the great machine going, huh? Is there an afterlife after all? Are we just eaten to feed the universe, in the end?"
Orpheus looked surprised, eyebrows lifting before she chuckled, "Oh… no." She shook her head again. "That is an option, but usually done as an emergency or stopgap measure. Burning souls offers a short term gain, but in the long term it is quite wasteful. They are usually recycled into new beings, possibly split if they have grown enough, or kept in a secondary realm. An afterlife, as you call it."
She paused before continuing, "As you can guess, the existence of strife and conflict prompts greater generation of power, so actual perfect worlds are dead ends. Immaterial souls are much easier to satisfy and cost little to upkeep, so some universes with an ample surplus do keep afterlives, but their actual energy generation is almost negligible."
"We're getting off-topic," I pointed out. "What is it you need me to do?"
I already had a feeling, but had to ask anyway. Unfortunately, I was right.
Orpheus smiled again, still holding that shining point of light.
"Why, we need a new Administrator, of course."