Sinfire's World

Sinfire’s World

I am an Overseer. We make sure Sinfire’s influence hits the right spots. We reign by magically inspiring terror in the megacity. We glide in airships, refuel on top of skyscrapers. The curse of the Overseers is to never love. We inspire fear and respect. The influence works that way, except with animals. My tarsier pet isn’t affected by this strange aura. That pet is my best friend.

Overseers work solo. No need for a partner when Sinfire’s influence is that strong. We all stay in line, happy to be obedient fools scraping for mana stones.

Back in the countryside they called us damned, altered, part of the rot. But we still choose. Free will remains. From time to time I do one small right thing, like in the world before Sinfire. Sure, the world is colder and has little mercy for pure souls, but an overwhelming majority is happier. Artificially happier, maybe. We Overseers are not looking for redemption. We are both the order and the resistance. That’s how I like to see my job, even though we are merely pawns in a greater game.

We collect credits from everyone so we can afford to be merciful in a few cases. When a lost soul needs emergency sleep, we deliver. We are mutualization and insurance.

On one hand, brain implants make you feel electro-pleasure and happiness. It’s the most expensive service. They are permanent alterations, but they need repair or upgrades sometimes.

On the other hand, there are magical patches. They dispense whatever spectrum of emotions you desire for a limited duration. Electrodes or mana magic have the same side effect. They both destroy your natural sleep. Everyone knows that, but Mineralization solved the issue. Magically turned to stone. Anyone can get some rest for a cheap price.

Mineralization hotels are very secure against murderers and thieves. Once mineralized, you are defenseless for hours. Overseers control the security twice a day for a low fee to keep prices down. Like I said, mutualization and insurance, not just awe and terror.

The system holds itself tight. But I help as much as I can. Of course, that doesn’t change the curse. People still hate us for giving them the creeps. A loveless, friendless life. Not everyone is cut for that. It takes special individuals. We are detected early in this tech-era society. I got the curse at six, but most get it when they are older. I’m used to being alone and feared. I don’t remember anything else. Sometimes I think I was always cast aside.

At least with my job, some people remember they can count on me for an extra hour of cheap patches or more mineral-rest. They hate interacting with me, but they’re glad to do it.

I customized my airship to patrol the sky. We Overseers have wireless access to the tech services used below. We can sense powerful magic as well. Between our screens and our sixth sense, we maintain order easily. It leaves us free time for other things, like playing with our pets or whatever floats your boat.

If we weren’t so feared, we could get the best call-girls. To maintain the rare Overseer karyotype in the population, we are sometimes asked to reproduce the old way. It’s case by case. Sinfire itself controls the process. It can temporarily freeze the terror curse of one Overseer so he can mate with a woman. It’s a rare privilege, earned through strict criteria.

The Overseers don’t use electro-pleasure or emotion patches. We are practical monsters, so we consider the Sinfire mating an overrated gift. Most of the force reproduces in vitro. It’s more efficient.

As powerful as we are, we are not omnipotent or all-knowing. One foggy night, I was gliding over the river when something caught my attention.

It looked like a floating body. I rushed my airship toward it, ready to rescue the drowning thing.

“Hey! Take my hand!” I shouted.

I grabbed it and pulled it onto the platform. It was… a bag of rubbish. I felt foolish. Then I noticed a red Gem stone. It glowed strangely, and for a minute I felt frozen in time, staring at it.

Something immaterial warped around my mind.

“I was expecting you,” said a voice inside my head.

“What the hell? Who’s there?” I asked, scanning the cabin.

“I’m in your head, buddy.”

“Are you real… or am I losing it?”

“Oh, I’m very real. I’m here because of all the metaphysical short-circuits in this part of the world.”

“Metaphysical what?”

“Never mind. I’m Gargash, your personal advisor. And believe me, you’ll need me after bending the flow of reality so often.”

“Overseers just obey Sinfire. It’s a God. I don’t dare do more than it commands.”

“Sinfire is no God. But first, you must purify your body. That curse you carry is filthy, though it cannot be removed.”

“If I purify, will you leave my head?”

“You’ll need a bath I can bless.”

We went to a premium skyscraper bath. Gargash blessed the water. I purified my soul.

He stayed silent afterward. I was relieved.

Later, while patrolling the outskirts, I noticed how beautiful the countryside was. The feeling was unfamiliar. Gargash spoke.

“It would be even more beautiful without the plague your false God engineered.”

“That plague comes from miasma and harsh living conditions,” I replied, repeating the news.

“Sinfire is a false equilibrium. A substitute for the Divine. To a downstream motion like me, it is only temporary.”

“You’re lucky it can’t hear your blasphemy.”

That night I slept deeply. Gargash explained what he was. A Downstream Motion. The embodiment of Karma.

On the Holy Day of the Living Dead, I searched the library’s restricted section. Hard-copy books only. I learned what a Downstream Motion was. There was no exorcism.

“I guess I can’t get rid of you.”

“You already did what I needed. You brought me here.”

“To stay?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

He left my mind. A veil lifted. Sinfire’s grip weakened. The curse remained, but I felt lighter.

From that day on, I blessed my bathwater myself.
Something in me had been unlocked.
Something good.