Golden Mean

Link to article: Golden Mean.


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[[>]]
[[module Rate]]
[[/>]]

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[[include :scp-wiki:theme:cosmos]]
[[include :scp-wiki:component:author-label-source start=--
|name=P-H Vixter & 7eventy7evenfold]]
**Part V**

//Some bots are just distractions,//
//Some bots are just Gold.//
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He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the night sky.

The air was warm, he could see the stars in their beauty.

He rolled his head and saw the grass right in front of his eye.

He was lying on the gentle surface of the earth.

Slowly lifting himself up, his view changed. He looked up, expecting to see the moon, he saw a giant black hole instead.

It was big, more than a quarter of the observable sky.

He stood there, not being able to take his eyes off it. Never before has he seen a black hole this close to earth.

If this was earth, that is.

The event horizon, the acceleration disk, both were colored in purple.

He looked at his hand, and to his surroundings, nothing was being affected by the gravitational pull.

His surroundings. He was in a forest of some sorts, where he stood was an open area, but his sides were covered with trees.

He took his first steps forward, moving “closer” to the black hole. But after just eight steps, his foot didn't land where it was supposed to, making him almost fall.

A sudden adrenaline rush from the misstep, he looked down, and saw the end of the surface. He was on top of a mountain that was half a kilometer tall.

He took a few steps back as he realized the depth. He lightly lifted his head, looking at the endless terrains this mountain towered over.

“Where am I?” He asked himself aloud.

And to his surprise, someone answered.

“My home.” Said a voice from behind, making Alan turn his head around in sudden shock. “Well, not home, but as close as it can get to one.”

“//Another Nobody?//“ Alan thought to himself after seeing the man with his own eyes. But something was different about this one. His eyes were blocked by a white-colored glitch, as if he was looking at him through a camera that was censoring his face.

“Who are you?” Alan asked.

“Nobody of note.” He replied.

Alan rolled his eyes. “Of course. Is this place yours?”

“It is. My proudest work so far.” He said smoothly.

“Hm? You created here?”

“Mhm, my domain, you can say. This is a place called Nowhere.”

Alan didn't comment any further.

“Do you see it?”

He glanced around. “See what?”

“Over there.” Nobody pointed towards a far place. Past the infinitely repeating terrains, [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-place-called-nowhere | there was a house, and a figure in black slowly reaching out to the doorknob]]].

It was hard to notice details from this distance, but he could just see enough.

“Is that you?”

“No, but an entity made to look like me. Someone I know has been really impatient to see me suffer.”

Alan let a soft chuckle escape his lips. “Getting in trouble? I can relate.”

The figure made it into the house.

“Well, more than trouble. Bodies after bodies, they had to go somewhere. Their hatred sustains their existence.”

“What--”

Then, the house exploded. The blast kept expanding, vast. Everything in its path was erased from existence.

But before it could reach the two, Nobody snapped his fingers, and all motions came to a stop.

Alan blankly stared at the pure nothingness in front of him; he didn't know what it was, but whatever he was looking at, or the lack of, was giving him the creeps.

Nobody held him by the shoulder, snapped his fingers again, and both of them disappeared before everything started to flow again.

And the explosion engulfed that reality, completely erasing it as if it was never a thing.

They reappeared in a different reality; specifically, an abandoned SCP Foundation site. They were in the O5 meeting room, a big, round table at the middle and chairs surrounding it.

Nobody casually pulled a chair and sat on it. It was leather, well-worn, black, and a perfect fit for his posture.

Alan blinked a few times absentmindedly before realizing he was in a different place now; he took in his surroundings. It was dusty and old but still strong and coherent.

“What the hell was that?”

“The arrival of [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2747 |Antichrist]]] is the destruction of everything. Your father was really religious, you know?” Nobody said very casually. He was familiar with this type of stuff.

“My father? I don't have a father.”

“Right... You used to have one before your universe was rewritten. Thankfully, I got his body before that happened. But now your story is different. Born from a virgin under a palm tree.”

“What do you know about my father?”

Nobody smirked before putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting up the tip with a lighter. “You can ask //him// if you want answers.”

Alan turned his hand into a fist in annoyance. “Stop with these vague damn answers. What 'bodies after bodies'? What Antichrist? What 'him'? What 'universe being rewritten'?”

“Relax, boy.” Nobody replied, voice muffled because of the cigarette between his lips. He took an inhale and removed it from his mouth. “You're too young to take all of it in one go.”

“I am 26.”

“Young indeed.”

Alan used all of his willpower to keep his tongue clean.

“Black hole, Alan. Quantum information cannot be created or destroyed. But it //can// be reshaped. Anything that goes into a black hole has to come out somewhere else. So, tell me, golden boy, what is the opposite of a black hole?”

Alan knew the answer, but he hesitated to say it. “White hole? But they're only theoretical, not a real thing.”

“Exactly.” Nobody's smile widened. “He shouldn't exist, but he does. All the souls amalgamated into one instead of going to heaven or whatever. He wants me dead so badly for it.”

“So that means--” Alan's eyes widened. “You are using my father's body?”

“Sad to admit it, but yeah,” He puffed a smoke out. “Don't feel bad; he wouldn't recognize you.”

“But why?” That was all he could utter.

“I have my reasons. You wouldn't get it.”

“Oh, I //would// get it. You killed the father I didn't know I even had, and now you're trying to be vague again. Spit it out.”

Nobody gave a sigh before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stepping on top of it.

“Maybe it would be better if it isn't from me.”

“What do you--” Alan blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, Nobody was gone.

Then, he heard a phone ring behind him. When he turned around, everything was white. He turned around one more time, white.

He was in a purely white, empty void.

The phone rang again. He turned to face the phone. It was a rotary dial landline telephone, just standing on top of a single legged table.

Alan carefully approached the table, each footstep echoing inside the void, and picked up the headset.

Once he did, the void shifted colors, the receiver was just playing a static noise.

“Hello?”

Then, a voice came from the receiver. A completely robotic and soulless voice box spoke from the other side.

“//The lack of presence of others consumes the mind, the lack of presence of self consumes the soul. Talk to others, only to be unheard. Be in photos, only to be unseen. Beg for help, only to be left behind. Pray to God, only to not exist.//“

The color of the void slowly shifted from white to darkness.

“What is this?”

“//When you are forced to not exist, you are truly free. And freedom is pain, for the self will burn in the view of others, for the self will want to be like others.//“

A loud thud sound came from behind, squishy and soft.

Alan started to slowly turn around.

“//And to satisfy the pain of self, others must be sacrificed. They have everything you wish, that is enough for you...//“

When Alan completely turned around, he saw bodies, mountains of human bodies, burning in smokeless purple flames. Completely towering over the golden man.

The voice box glitched, the voice slowed down, and a low-quality tune started to play through the receiver.

“//... to... be... them.//“

“Dear... God...”

Then, with a snap, everything returned to normal.

He was in the room again. The headset continously beeped as the line was empty. It took Alan a few seconds to snap out of his shock and put the receiver back to the switch lock.

“That will be enough for you, for now.” Nobody said after getting up from the chair. He made his way to the door, and reached out to the doorhandle.

But before he could touch it, a bullet went right in front of his hand. Nobody turned to see Alan holding his good old golden gun, with smoke coming out of the barrel. “You aren't leavin' after showing me that. I know none of us want to be enemies of each other.”

Nobody casually shrugged. “I could entertain it a bit more, I suppose.” He said, and pulled out a coin from his pocket. He threw it in the air, flipping.

Heads.

“Your turn.”

He threw the coin at Alan.

“You are all games, aren't you?” He said as he caught it.

This time, it was Alan who threw the coin in the air.

Tails.

“Tails.” Alan announced.

“Welp, let me give you a little ride, then.” The surrounding space changed within the blink of an eye. Now both of them were in an empty city, overlooking a coffee shop.

Alan was used to it, not being bothered by such sudden shifts anymore. But in the deep of his mind, he did wonder how he was capable of doing something like this.

“'How do you do this?'”

“How do you do this?” They both said at the same time.

“Huh?” Alan said in a sudden realization.

“I can see what you are thinking from your face, golden boy.” Nobody said, almost in a mocking tone, giving out a little chuckle.

“I wish I could do the same, you're practically faceless. Whatever-- where is this?”

“A city I just imagined. I'd say I'm getting better at this.”

Alan did not question it. "So, you take bodies, replace their souls, and make them burn just because you are jealous?”

“Jealousy would be undermining it, it is a... necessity, for me to not go crazy.”

“It hurts you?”

“Yeah, a lot. A helluva lot. Trying to force myself to exist in a world where I am not meant to exist. It takes a toll after a while.”

Alan waited a bit, empathizing while blankly staring at the shop in front of both them. It was night, the lights from inside shone through the glass, gently enlightening both of them from the other side of the street.

“I understand,” Alan began softly. “Living in misery is not uncommon surprisingly. I had friends, wife, kids. Lost all of 'em. You already know that, though. Being a nobody when you desperately need help to put yourself together. You saved me, rebranded me, gave me friends, almost sent me to my death for a book, and now God knows how I ended up here. But using others as a mental medication isn't the way.”

“It is too late to go back on that.” He paused. ”I used to come here a lot,” Nobody said, looking at the coffee shop. “And everytime I came here, they always greeted me as if I was a new costumer. Little do they know I have been a big fan for years.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It is. Oh, it is.”

They both stayed silent. The coffee shop's lights turned off, and the place closed down.

“'Are you gonna answer my question?'“

“Are you gonna answer my question-- hey, stop that!“

Nobody audibly laughed this time. “Okay, okay, I will.“ He said while chuckling to himself and began to walk on the sidewalk. “Follow me.“

Alan followed behind, walking alongside him, even if it annoyed him. “So?“

“After your fight with 12, you passed out inside your home from exhaustion. But you are still alive. You went beyond your body's limits.“

Alan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I do feel like I am rather alive.“ He replied sarcastically. “That does not answer my--“

“You're still unconscious.“ Nobody interrupted. “So I asked a [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-990 | friend of mine]]] to bring you here.“

“...What do you mean by 'here'?“

“My Narrative.“ Nobody replied, and they two were suddenly on a shore, walking alongside the ocean's gentle waves. “You can call it... realised daydream? Mind Palace? Something like that.“

Alan turned his head, looking at the ocean as the water reflected the moon. He saw a few boats in the distance. “You are doing all of this with your mind?“

“Yeah. Narratives originate from the deepest depth of the Noosphere. You know what that is?“

“I guess so, a peer of yours explained it to me. Collection of all human thoughts, reflector of the physical realities, something-something.“

“That's good enough.“

And now they were walking on top of the clouds, flat towards all directions. The sun was the only thing keeping the blue sky from being featureless.

Alan glanced around, rather fascinated. “Looks like heaven.“

“Nah,“ Nobody replied casually. “I've been there, looks nothing like it.“

“Why do you do any of this?“ Alan stopped his walk and began, “Watching over me from the horizons, changing my life, my universe? Who. Are. You?“

Nobody stopped as well, not turning to look. “A janitor, maintainer, commander, overseer, critic, demigod, but you know me as... 'the Boss'“

“The... Boss...?!“

The environment faded to black.

“I was tasked to carry out the will of my Father into the physical world.“ Nobody sighed, “He got thrown out of heaven after God misjudged him, he has been vengeful since then.“

“That sounds like...--“

“Lucifer. The devil. Satan. The big bad. He told me to take care of you after [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/snake-and-apple| he rewrote your universe]]].“

A figure manifested in front of both of them, like a projector playing out a scene.

There was Alan, at the brink of death.

“Archangels are incomprehensible to the human mind, so let me show it to you in the form of the Grim Reaper.“

Another figure came to be, a human skeleton wearing a dark hooded cloak and wielding a scythe, about to take Alan's life.

“When the angel of death was about to take your soul, my Father intervened.“

[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7146 | A pitch-black, featureless, humanoid silhouette]]] with eyes glimmering red, appeared behind the reaper.

“Death, of course, wouldn't obey the devil. And so, he invited Death to a deal. If Death lost this deal, his reputation among his angel co-workers would be ruined. A mind game. Each side would create 10 humans.“

A set of humans faded into existence behind the devil, slowly losing their transparency as they manifested. They were locked in their place, unable to move any part of their body except their eyes. Death followed suit, doing the same thing.

“The game was simple. Out of 10 humans, three of them were sinners. And the only clues they had were their body language and emotions.“

Death and the devil switched places. Examining each other's men without physical touch.

“Both of them had three chances of reading the memories of the men of their choosing. Beyond that, they would be disqualified for that round.“

The devil walked past them, looking at each human's face and analyzing them with immense accuracy as he did. The humans were terribly scared, as one could potentially guess. The devil himself was looking at them in the eye.

He could see their thoughts, their emotions, their pasts and their futures. In a way, he was cheating.

But Death was familiar with his tricks.

“Less than half a minute later, the devil was the first to finish his analysis.“

The devil leaning in and looked at each of them deep into their eyes, seeing through their souls, seeing each of their pasts. But the more he looked, the more he realized that all of them were sinners. Death put a trap. Their sins did, indeed, exist in their past, but not in their memory. None of them remembered their sins except the three Death selected.

It was impossible for the devil to tell the difference now, because he cheated.

“//It is finished. Your call.//“ Death said, voice deep and slow.

Devil anticipated this. Death was as tricky as he remembered him being when he was still in heaven, so he had a few setups on his own. His own humans were not sinners at all, but all of them were terrified enough to give Death the illusion of some of them being sinners. They were purposefully created to be mentally weak. If he took the lives of innocents, he would be in trouble with God.

Devil laughed in response, and put his hand on the persons he deemed to be sinners, and their eyes went blank as their soul disappeared.

“The devil was surprisingly confident in his choices, which Death noticed, but kept it to himself.“

It was correct. Was it mere luck? Or another counter-anticipation on his part?

“It was Death's turn to choose now.“

Death put his scythe on the chosen humans' necks, and beheaded them one by one.

“//##red|God is our witness, he who resides beyond the heavens, favor the winner, banish the loser.##//“ The devil said, and both of them waited patiently.

A light from above shone upon them, choosing both of them to be correct.

“//Foul play is your middlename, Morningstar.//“ Death mocked him.

“But how?“ Alan commented. “It was a perfect trick!“

“Simple.“ Nobody replied. “Death realized that none of them were sinners upon his initial analysis, so he went back in time to change their past while the devil was busy with his own work.“

“So he turned them into sinners... is that why it took him longer?“

“Correct. Otherwise, he would've done it faster than the devil.“

“Then how did the devil not fall for Death's trick?“ Alan asked again.

“He uploaded each of their past into their respective minds after reading them first, making those who have forgotten remember, and looked for facial or emotional reactions.“ Nobody explained.

Now, it was time for round two.

But, it would be wrong to say the result was any different. No matter what both of them did, all was anticipated by the other, creating a sort of paradox of infinitely anticipating each other no matter the complication it was built with, no matter how many foul plays there was. Tricks within tricks, plans within plans, but they never mattered.

Round 3, 7, 14, 26, 38, 66, 231, 542 etc. It always ended in a stalemate.

“And so,“ Nobody continued to narrate. “They resorted to the only game, game with the simplest yet inviolatable rules...“

“And that was...?“

“Rock, paper, scissors. No tricks. No wits. Only pure luck.“

“Huh--“

And Death lost.

Death chose scissors, the devil chose rock. Devil won.

The Grim Reaper dropped his scythe, and let out a cry of humiliation that was heard throughout the multiverse. Nobody snapped his fingers, and the projections stopped.

“Of course,“ Nobody began once more. “This is merely for your understanding, angels are not physical things. The real game is infinitely more complicated then that, literally. But know that Death did, indeed, lose a bet against the devil.“

“This is so fucking stupid...“ Alan whispered to himself, not knowing what to think of this. Death losing rock paper scissors? After all of that battle of wit? This had to be a joke.

Nobody chuckled at it, “Sometimes God is a very good comedian, I must say.“

“So, I am immortal?“

“Yes, but not in a way you'll like. Your soul has essentially become unerasable, unmovable from your body. Meaning no bodily or spiritual harm will affect you.“

“Hm, What is there to not like about this--“

“There will be no afterlife for you. No Hell. No Heaven. Complete oblivion. That's why I have to take extreme care of you. If your body becomes nonfunctional, you will have nowhere to go.“

...And Alan could only stare in shock, no words came out of his mouth no matter how much he tried. He took a deep inhale, and exhale. Taking it in.

“Nowhere, you said...“ Alan said, almost to himself.

He took the coin out of his pocket, and threw it in the air.

Heads.

Alan gave a long blink. When he opened his eyes, both of them were back at the forest that was once erased.

Nobody glanced around, surprised. “Did you just...?“

“Luck. That's what it is, isn't it?“ The man in gold said, he was almost... angry. “My only chance for peace destroyed by mere luck. I wish I could laugh, Boss.“

“I wish things were different too, Ala--“

“No, you don't.“ Alan interrupted. “You and your Father have been planning this the entire time, haven't you? I am not naive, Boss. You try to be mysterious, say that this is some kind of necessary evil and that I am ignorant to what is happening behind the scenes. Everything up to this point has been in your plan, isn't it?“

“Indeed it has,“ Nobody clapped back. He sighed. “My Father and I have planned this, down to the last, molecular detail.“

Alan stared at Nobody, rage brewing in his eyes.

//“Why?“//

Nobody spread his arms. A faint violet glow outlined Nobody as everything began to levitate around them; the gravitational pull of the previously mentioned black hole seemed to be functioning now, except for them.

“For ages older than time itself, we have planned the destruction of faith and given worth to the material world, for God is unjust, and his unwillingness to fix his damn problems is a constant attribute.“ He continued. “Humans are better as themselves rather than as machines of God. Afterlife is not worth herelife.“

“Is it worth the suffering you've brought onto so many? The bodies you've stolen? Is that what you wanted,“ Alan asked, his anger slowly fading into solemnity.

“Let me explain something to you, Alan.“ he began again, and the outline grew stronger and stronger. “To make it simple enough for you, I want to ask you something: do you know what happens when there is not a Nobody in a given realm?“

Alan's gaze dropped beneath himself as he wondered. “No. Why does that matter?“

“It matters because without that absence, that void of a person, the realm eats itself alive like a rabid dog, incoherently babbling in a contradictory pidgin before blowing away like ash. Nobody is a constant for the world. To put it lightly, the universe //needs// someone to punish, to project itself onto and damn away to Hell forever, and in that damnation, you will find Nobody.“

Alan stared once more, his gaze seeming as an attempt to breach Nobody's soul. “The death of the few for the life of the many.“

“Bingo.“

“All this... all those you've robbed of their lives, and it's to save the universe,“ Alan asked, still stunned.

“Yes. Exactly! Now you're getting there,“ he exclaimed. “Do you honestly believe that I take joy in what I do? I feel the pain of every soul I've robbed of life. I hate this 'life'. No, I //loathe// this. I have nothing but antipathy in my 'soul' for what I've done. The guilt in my 'heart' weighs one thousand stars.“ He continued. “Alan, I can see everything they did, and every little possibility they had within them. I saw light, and power, and love, and art, and all of it. I remember every little thing each of them did to the last minute detail, and I can precognize everything they could've been. And you know what I think, Alan?“

Alan kept staring at him, motionless.

“I think it's bullshit. There is no meaning to the harmonic cacophony of it all. Do you want to know what else I beheld? Death, famine, war, disease, crime, scum, and villainy. So much harm, it's almost hard to believe there even is a god in this place. It's pathetic what humans do to themselves, Alan. What //they// do. That isn't to say I feel any less horrid for the atrocities I've committed, but it //is// to say they do the same. They do it so much that it pains the universe into cosmically wailing and it projects itself onto Nobody as a flawed defense mechanism. It projects itself onto //me//, Alan.“ He continues. “Some of us can cope with it well and use their absence as a technique, but others are not so fortunate. Being a Nobody is a damnation beyond being forsaken by God in the way we are.“

Alan tried his hardest to respond, almost in a desperate manner. “No. The world is better than that,“ he tried to assure.

Nobody laughed.

“No it isn't, Alan. Don't you get it? There isn't a poin--“

//“Yes there is, damnit!“// Alan spoke out, and it came from the depths of his soul, as loud as possible. The gravitational pull ceased, and everything levitating into the endless blackness plummeted back with immense force, but nothing hit the two. Nobody was left stunned. “You yourself told me why. All the good you've seen in the bodies you've stolen. The art, the love, the //family//, everything. The world is a beautiful thing. Just because there's pain, doesn't mean that life isn't worth living. Don't you think the pain is what makes us human?“

Nobody, for the first time, had no words. He pierced through Alan's soul with his stare alone. Alan was sweating. His outline faded away in a instant.

“Boss, I don't know how the hell I could possibly stop you from having to leech off of people in the way that you do, but I can at least change your perspective.“ He continued. “I want you to take the thoughts of one of the people you've killed in this way.“

Nobody watched as the space around them shifted. Alan switched the scene and began narrating the events. No one noticed them.

“Imagine they walk onto a stage. It's a choir, and they're performing with their group. They give the greatest performance of a classical piece ever even dreamt of, evoking such deep feelings as to bring even the hardest to tears. They are congratulated immensely by those close to them. They never forget the moment. It brings tears to their eyes knowing that they contributed to the world.“

Nobody just stared at the stage, a strange feeling overtaking him. The scene changed again, to a battlefield. Alan began narrating around them once more.

“Now imagine a soldier fighting a war. He trained for months, maybe even years, acting like a robot, moving out of mind rather than heart, to fight for a system that doesn't care about him, that walks all over him, that doesn't even know what his face looks like. He walks into the front line, ducks behind cover, and before he can even receive an order, a grenade is thrown at his location and he is spread across the battlefield.“

They watched as the man splattered around them. The remains entirely missed them. Alan returned the two to the forest. It was daytime, the forest was no longer dark, no longer cold, but colorful and warm. The black hole was gone, replaced by the sun.

“Both of them are so incredibly human. That's what you don't understand. Of course it isn't a good thing, but there are still immense joys to be had. You know that, Boss.“

Nobody shuffled in place.

“I don't know what to say,“ Nobody spoke softly.

“You don't have to,“ Alan responded. “Just think on it, Boss. Don't you think all of it, combined, is what makes the human experience?“

“I will,“ He said. “Maybe I will...“

Alan threw him the coin.

Nobody caught it, and threw it in the air.

Tails.

“Maybe it's my time to listen." He commented to himself. "Our time has run out. There is a waffle place a few blocks away from your house. Meet me there after you wake up.“

Alan nodded, smiling.

Nobody snapped his finger, and a white light started to grow from the ground until it covered the entirety of Alan's view.

It was time to return to reality.

“The Boss is proud of you, Alan.“

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