A lot of conversation. Someone brought coffee. “Though I’d be the social one for once.” Don’t remember much else after that. Deeper, good, restful sleep.
Then being yanked into something. “It worked! The vessel moves!” I’m in an automaton body. The man responsible is thrilled. He gives me a command. I flip his desk instead.
“I understand you might be upset and disoriented! Just wait a bit and hear me out! It was supposed to be a servitor in that body! Not a divinity!” Did he just call me a god? Wut?
There is a civil/religious war. One side preaches the use of non-religious magic is evil and must be wiped out. The other side preaches individual responsibility and independent personal paths. The man wanted a servitor to animate the automaton to help the restoration of a historic site important to both sides. It was dangerous work and a flesh body could be crushed.
But he keeps calling me a god, and saying my very presence could end the war. A divinity possessing a secularly enchanted automaton? I am the proof his side needs!
“No. I’m not. To them, I am the proof your side is godless and heretical and so full of hubris that the gods will have no choice but to destroy man. And the fanatics will take it on themselves to begin the purging. You are assuming the fanatics think like you and accept your posits. They are human. With human blinders and human prejudices and human barbarity. If I go out there, and claim to be a god in a secular vehicle, you would not live another hour. Find a different way.”
I searched the automaton for what pulled me into it and found nothing of note. I realize he didn’t pull me into the automaton, I was pushed. Who could push me and give me an air of divinity? Another god.
“Has anyone from your side contacted their gods without them frothing in between?” He shook his head. “I’m going to leave this clusterfuck, but I’m leaving the automaton intact. Mostly. Sometimes humans do things in the name of their god, and those things are completely counter to what their god actually wants. If you want divine help, contact the divine. Use this automaton, but no public shit right away! Believe me, religious authority figures have an advantage to working publicity.”
“But you’re a god! Can’t you help?”
“Even if I was, not my sphere. What do you think I’m a god of, anyway?”
“Chaos.”
My rejection of his assumption was so fierce, the internal talisman that served as the binding device shattered, releasing me from the automaton and his world. I broke the automaton’s heart.