toothycat | (no subject)

Original here

"Why do you keep flitting back and forth?" Mazukta the demiurge grimaced in displeasure. "Have a seat, calm down."
"Hang on, I'll try again."
The demiurge Shambambukli closed his eyes, concentrated and disappeared. Not even thirty years passed before he appeared again - looking confused, a dagger stuck in his chest.
"You're nothing but trouble", Mazukta sighed as he pulled out the dagger and healed the wound. "What's driving you? They've staked you up, stoned you to death... and remember the time they fed you to the piranhas! It took me ages to reassemble all the bits. Can you at least explain what the point of all this is?"
"I've no time to explain! - the things that are going on there...!"
"Your tea will get cold", Mazukta began, but Shambambukli had already disappeared again.
Mazukta shrugged and sipped from his cup. Soon Shambambukli's head appeared, followed by the rest of him, in parts - arms, legs, body. Mazukta sighed, set his cup aside and walked up to his dismembered friend.
"Quartered?"
"Uh-huh. Put me back together...?"
"No", Mazukta cut him off. "First explain to me what the hurry is. Why do you need to keep being born in that stupid world to die more stupid deaths?"
"It is ruled by horror and lawlessness", Shambambukli sobbed; a tear rolled down his cheek, quickly wiped by Mazukta. "They make bonfires out of books, and burn people alive on them, can you imagine?"
"I can", Mazukta nodded. "So?"
"What do you mean, 'so'? Something needs to be done!"
"Perhaps. And what precisely are you doing?"
"I tell people it's wrong. And they... well, you see."
"Which people do you tell this?" Mazukta asked.
"All sorts... The ones that something depends on. The high priests, the leaders, various advisers..."
"And you're getting your just deserts!" Mazukta summarised. "You are approaching the problem from the wrong end."
Mazukta reattached his friend's arms and legs, lifted his head and held it out in front of him.
"If you say 'poor Shambambukli' once more, I will bite your nose!" Shambambukli promised darkly.
"All right, I won't", Mazukta agreed and planted the head back on its shoulders. Shambambukli sat down and gingerly turned his head.
"It hurts", he complained. "So what am I doing wrong, then?"
Mazukta unhurriedly lifted his cup, took a sip and squinted thoughtfully.
"I had this problem too once", he admitted. "Well, almost the same problem. People would gather on hills and... anyway. I was still young back then, I'd go down to them and teach them. My scars still twinge... And then..."
Mazukta took another sip and fell silent, staring at the whirlpool of tea leaves.
"Well?" Shambambukli finally asked. "What did you come up with?"
"Firewood." Mazukta replied laconically.
"What does that have to do with anything?!"
"Everything. I made the pastime expensive. Do you see?"
"No."
"It's easy! If I were to go to a prophet and tell them everything I think - they'd club me over the head and feed me to the pigs there and then. But I did something else - I merely suggested to the chief treasurer a simple idea. Firewood costs money, right?"
"Well..."
"That's right. To burn a child, one needs firewood. And there's not enough to go around. So everyone who wants to sacrifice their firstborn has to pay the state for the firewood."
"I still don't..."
"It's very simple", Mazukta waved a hand. "It's one thing to throw a child in the fire, anyone can do that and be proud of it afterwards - there, they say, you see, I gave willingly! But to give money... that's another thing entirely! Not everyone will be up for that. Especially if they must first put in a request to the treasury, fill out four different questionnaires, wait several months for their turn... within a decade or two that particular pastime had pretty much died out."
Mazukta patted the confused Shambambukli's shoulder and smiled encouragingly.
"Don't worry about it, it happens to everyone! Just don't rely on morality and common sense too much in the future. The world is governed by market forces."

Original here

The demiurge Mazukta sat at the table at his friend, Shambambukli the demiurge's place, drinking coffee with cream. Shambambukli was drinking cocoa.
"A funny thing happened the other day", Mazukta began.
"Oh yeah?"
"I kneaded up some Chaos. And then I had to go somewhere for a while. Well, you remember, we had to go together that time."
"I remember. And then what?"
"I thought that the Chaos would be just about ready when I got back. But it went sour."
"My sympathy." Shambambukli made a sympathetic face as he added some cream to his cocoa. "So what's interesting about that? Happens all the time."
"The chaos went sour", Mazukta continued, "and split into layers. The curds sank down, and the sky came up. And since I wasn't there, they quietly eloped."
"Who?"
"The earth and the sky. They gave birth to a ton of really ugly children. The eldest ate all his brothers and lay with his sisters. And gave birth to a whole load more monsters..."
"Must this tale really be told over food?", Shambambukli enquired pointedly.
"No, listen! His children ganged up together on their dad and dismembered him. His hair they made into trees and grass, his bones into mountains, his blood into sea, his guts into marsh, his nails..."
Shambambukli choked, pushed his cup to one side and wiped his mouth.
"Mazukta! It is a very interesting tale, of course, but..."
"And then they gathered the holy seed of their dead father, mixed it with dirt and made the first human..."
"Mazukta! Is this going to be a very long creation myth? I think I am going to be sick."
Mazukta stared at his friend, hurt.
"Very well, then, I will make it short. There was a long time of dark ages, when the earth was packed full of big and small gods, titans, nature spirits and all sorts. They all fought each other, of course; some were killed, others all disappeared on their own somewhere. The humans would fight for one side or the other, build and destroy temples - well, you can imagine."
"I can."
"In the end the gods had all but wiped each other out. The corpses of their enemies they ate, then spat out into the sky and made the constellations..."
"Mazukta!"
"What? Is it my fault it happened? I wasn't even there! Anyway, the last few gods retreated from the world and went to live in the clouds, separated from it all."
"Is that it?"
"No. People, in their absence, made up all sorts of stupid faiths for themselves and all fought each other. But finally one dogma triumphed that had the strong supporters. Now almost everyone there believes that the world initially, even before the Chaos, was made by a single creator."
"That's all right, then." The demiurge Shambambukli nodded and relaxed. "I am very glad that your story is finally over and I can finish my cocoa in peace. The people came back to their roots and believed in you. My congratulations."
"I wish it was something to congratulate..." Mazukta laughed darkly. "What do you think they call their creator?"

Original here
The demiurge Mazukta unfolded the board, set up the figures and picked up the dice.
"Well, shall we?"
"Let us begin!" the demiurge Shambambukli agreed readily. "Roll."
Mazukta threw the dies and grunted in satisfaction.
"Aha! I'm playing white, you're black."
"Drat", Shambambukli complained. "I wanted to be white, too."
"What are you on about?" Mazukta laughed. "Good should have fists. Here!" He shook a fist. "And yours... you need more exercise. No, a roll is a roll; you're Evil today."
"Well, all right", Shambambukli agreed. "So these are my pieces? These thieves, murderers, rapists..."
"Yup. And mine are here - the priests, judges, teachers, doctors and the executive government. Let's go!"
The demiurges bent over the playing table and began to busily shift their figures.
"Stop!", Mazukta said some time later. "What are you doing?"
"What's wrong?"
"That piece of yours there - what's he doing to that granny?"
"Helping her across the road."
"Have you gone mad? He's a rapist! An evil piece."
"And evil pieces can't help grannies across the road?"
"They can't!"
"Why not?"
Mazukta thought for a minute.
"They just can't. It's a good deed. And you're playing on the side of Evil."
"One moment," Shambambukli raised a hand. "If my pieces do only bad things, no-one will love them!"
"Naturally! They're meant to be feared, not loved."
"No", Shambambukli shook his head decisively. "I'm not going to play like that. If no-one wants anything to do with them, they'll all turn to the white side and I've lost."
"Then how come I never lose when I play Evil?", Mazukta argued.
"Dunno. What am I doing wrong, then?"
"You're doing everything wrong! Your spies prevent wars, your bandits steal from the rich and give to the poor, your rapists only act in love and with mutual consent! The aim does justify the means, of course, but not any old means!"
"Let's swap, then", Shambambukli suggested. "If you know the rules so well, you play black and I'll carry on as white."
"All right, let's do that, then... Here, I'll show you what I've got done so far. This here is the Inquisition, it prevents the pieces swaying towards Evil. This is the brotherhood of holy warriors, its mission is to turn the blacks towards the white faith. This is the education system that destroys at its origin any foreign thought, so that even the concept of switching sides is absent. These are the camps where incorrigible elements may be isolated. I mean, you can't burn them all, right? OK, then, you carry on as white and I'll start fixing the mess you've made here."
"Yeah..." Shambambukli swallowed. "I'm sure there's going to be a lot to fix..."