Jump #959: In which Nyarlathotep forces Anon to play chess

[Jump #959, A Study in Emerald]

Lucky Star: Elder Sign

Rook, age 36

Pickpocket (Free)
Gone to Ground (900)
Messrs Street and Walker (700)
Fixitives and Formulations (400)
Pipe (Free)
Flimsy Crucifix (0)

(In a dark roomed gilded with royal and sable, there is a chessboard. The players are almost men. Outside, there is the sound of a ballroom and the laughter of courtiers but it fades to almost nothing within the drapes)

It's like biking in the summer, then tripping, falling into a stagnant bog. Biting into a candy battle and tasting razorblade. That's what coming to a reality where THEY hold dominion is like for me.

"Well, that's a bit harsh. Why don't we take a few steps back? A dandy who's /no better than he should be/ arrives unannounced to the most exclusive function of the year. He mingles with the guests, avoids the Queen's counsel, and turns out to have been a plum tree. He does not, however, fool an Egyptian dignitary with whom he has unfinished business"

(Somewhere else, a colonel and an erudite are closing in on the mystery that will unravel the Golden Witch's ploy)

This isn't a game.

"On the contrary. We're playing one right now, dear boy"

Are we? How was Hell?

(Yet somwhere else, a vigilante and a doctor follow the Witch of Futurism's instructions carefully, tending to an engine that smiths laws)

"You test my patience. A bold move, but that's what I've always liked about you. You want to know how it was, being humiliated and condemned by a stupid old man's dream? Perhaps I'll SHOW you once I win"

(The game hasn't started. One of the players keeps kicking over the board. The other keeps replacing it just as quickly)

"You may as well play along, you know. I know all the moves in the book. Could we discard all propriety and tear into each other like thunder and ocean? Yes! But don't you think it would be boring? Look at the world, really LOOK at this world we've created from all the couldhavebeens and the neverweres and maybes between the lines of literature! It's a paradise for the kind of woman you love!"

(Cont'd)


(The other player refuses to dignify that with a response)

"Fine. Be that way. I may as well get comfortable while we're here. I should warn you, this mask of mine is the very incarnation of all that this era fears!"

(Something changes)

"Ta-da! An oriental woman, wearing a journeyman's pants while flaunting discretion, with the eyes of a demon and the education of a scholar! Feel free to cower, any upstanding Victorian gentleman would!"

(The other player doesn't respond. Very pointedly. His opponent gleefully considers this a point as the other tries to hide his panic and horror and shame as the implications of that mask's existence sink in)

...as opposed to what, play your rigged game? Endure your lies?

(For the first time, the player who affects an Egyptian countenance seems genuinely angered)

"All this time together, and you haven't-look. Listen up: I. Don't. Lie. I just carry messages. It's OTHER people who can't handle the truth, or miss the fine print, or curl up and want to die when you try to expand their horizons. You of all people should understand this!"

(There is silence again. And then, very slowly, a white pawn is moved)

(The player in lilac seems reckless in the extreme. The Apocalypse Opening transitions into castling, while his opponent plays sloppily. Almost childishly, moving pieces at random, aping the movements of his opponent at times. Then out of nowhere, using a knight or a bishop to lure a pawn into a succesion of crossfires. Which themselves, leave the king wide open)

(Somewhere, Princess Serenity is leading the world's last genuine practitioners of Islam in a final holy war against the savage gods of the caves)
(Somewhere, Fenris hunts Ithaqua in the wastes of the Antarctic)
(Somewhere, Ajimu Najimi is waving at you)
(Somewhere, Secret the Abyssal is praying fervently. Not to the Neverborn, but with them)

(Somewhere else, Colonel Sebation Moran takes a shot and smiles, sipping Victor's "Vitae")
(Somewhere else, the Queen holds a chalice to her lips and wonders what happened to her favorite silverwear)
(Somewhere else, John-or perhaps, James-Watson gently carves a symbol into his finest scalpels)
(Somewhere else, Holmes and Moriarty are racing towards a stargate facing what might be two asteroids)

(Cont'd)

(From above, the board multiplies beyond infinity. Moves not taken, are. Even so, there is a sense that a conclusion is nearing)

"I've discomforted you.
Your move.
"Oh, don't you fret. It's only natural to feel broken inside, having firsthand knowledge that everything you've achieved pales in comparison to what's out there!"
Your. Fucking. Move.
"I'm sure you'll figure something out! And it's not like you've sacrificed anything important to get here, is it? No seriously, is it?"

(The almost-woman contrives to act serious for a moment)

"You have no idea how hard it's been, trying to set you back on the right track. You haven't been to the Faction Paradox, ahaha, 'jump' already, have you?"

(She says nothing, as if expecting a response. Her opponent gives none. It's her move)

"I suppose you've had countless milennia to hone that poker face. Still, this is nice. Isn't this nice? So much more civilised than smiting each other like trigger happy barbarians. Nice job with the Two Knights defence by the way, a pity I've already got an Elephant Gambit in the wings ready and waiting to strike. Oh, speaking of elephants! Have I ever told you about what this delightfully rustic little dark carnival down in old Innsmouth that just arrived in town and..."

(The woman prattles on in this vein for a while, as her opponent grips the pieces enough to break them if they weren't abstract higher order metaphors for the world being subject to divine machinations. Carelessly, she raises a leg and moves a queen with the tip of her high heel)

And the other player says: Check.

"What do you hope to achieve here, may I ask? All your friends are kept in check by all the puppets who think themselves my employers"

If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me. Check.

"Ah, then someone else? I'll hold the dimensional boundaries fast from outside aid, you know that"

Just end this facade. Check.

"Oh come on! Spoil me, you aren't the type for a doomed last stand and we both know it!"

It's like you said. I'm out of options. My whole existence has been an exercise in futility. Even the godhead has failed to cage you, and my friends are in unimagineable danger all for the sake of a battle that could have been avoided. Truly, I was wrong to have even indulged your incomperehensible and tasteless game of pretend instead of expending my vast divine powers on breaking out of it. It must be crystal clear to you, that I truly couldn't have thought of any other possible way out of this situation than smashing things.

(The players stare at each other. Nothing is said for a moment, and for eternity. Outisde, someone shouts: Fire, and cinders drift into the room. Then finally, the player who is still mostly in the shape of a man snaps the cruxifix around his neck)

Nevertheless...check.

(The other player takes in a deep breath. Somewhere, black holes shiver)

"And mate at D10. I see it now. Well done, of course I wouldn't think to look at what a pawn was doing when kings are on the line"

(The woman stands up, and up, and twists as if stretching only to skew like oil and bloody ink in fine brandy, the room searing to ash from the holy light emerging through a dozen cracks. The board drifts up slowly, as if underwater)

"But this isn't the true checkmate! We're down to two kings and a whole lot of pieces sneaking off the board-right at the junction of negative-A1 here, look. And yes, I do know your lucky numbers. So you found a way to hold two openings to Oblivion in orbit, and propelled them into the past with star-language and a brave detective's pluck. Sent that nucleus of annihilation to THE EXACT MOMENT when our herald Cthulhu would make landfall, throwing the history of the Great Old Ones into disarray right as your friends gave you standing in the past as God of Rome. Well, bully for you"

"However, you will NEVER be rid of us! On my honor as the Crawling Chaos I WILL make our presence known. Every time you turn over a rock, every time you look at a forgotten myth the paradigm shift you've built WILL tremble for an attosecond-and in that attosecond we will show you the truth of the world!"

"It will be a miracle if a single human wants to live, when we're done"

(The spear materialises in her opponent's hand at the exact instant it is already striking the crawling chaos. There is only laughter)

"Yes! I see it all now. Watson and Moran gutting each other with their own knives. Moriarity falling forever into a gap in space-time, screaming helplessly at watching the world in which he is a hero fall away just as fast. And dear, brave Sherlock Holmes betting his life on the dynamics of a non-asteroid. It's all so very...creative" For a moment, the writhing horror pauses, as if wistful. "Ah, here's a good reward! I'm going to tell you a secret"

"And that secret is? That even though you did the impossible, and shattered through the limits of our other little game. Even though you've changed your past and future without even realising it, and defied my attempts at changing it back. Even though I truly can't predict what you'll do next"

"That you wouldn't be standing here today if I'd ever truly become bored with you"

(The other player finally screams his frustration into the uncaring night, as the last of his opponent abandons what he had moulded in chance to play)
(Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Lament, and you lament alone)

>FIN