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The Old God and the Time Traveler

Zephir always thought the worst thing he could be was bored. For minutes to stretch like hours and have nothing to do. Then he met Darwin, and perhaps there are worse things then boredom.

By Callum J. ScheiberPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 8 min read
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The Old God and the Time Traveler
Photo by Astrid Greif on Unsplash

It’s not that Zephir actually has to explain himself to anyone, but for all the readers out there, he was not banished from the godly realm. He just got bored and changed to king of heaven’s hair color by accident and- yeah, okay he was totally banished. But at least the mortal realm was fast paced. Interesting. Humans were cute- like little pets that you watch prance and preen.

Part of what made it interesting, of course, was Darwin. Darwin was a mortal he had met while disguised as an old man trying to outlast a desert storm. Zephir had been in his cave, minding his own business, when the man just appeared. A cocky smile, hair that seemed intentionally raggedy and a mess of limbs that were gangly. He had been chewing on something that Zephir learned was a piece of wood called a toothpick.

“Tell me what the world is like, old man.” This strange lanky interloper had said, wrapping an arm rather firmly around Zephir’s shoulders.

“Covered in sand.”

“Come on, Z, you know that’s not what I mean.” Zephir tried to back away from him, from his irksome smile that seemed more fit for greeting an old friend than an old god. “What year is it? Where are we? Recent human events.”

“No.”

“No? Come on, why would it be no?” A dawning realization played across his face. “Is this… do you not know me?”

“I know everyone.”

“I mean, do you know who I am?”

“Annoying.”

“That’s what I am.” He pinched his nose and groaned, giving space between himself and Zephir. “Man, I always thought I’d be cool for our first meeting and I ruined everything!” For a moment, the bravado faded away to show an insecure little human, scared of rejection.

“It’s… okay?”

As if reminded that he wasn’t alone (honestly, how could he forget, it was a small cave), the stranger straightened and Zephir could see the exact moment the mask slipped back on. With the cocky grin back on his face, the man put out his hand. “Name’s Darwin, professional time traveler.”

“Darwin…” He repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. “I’ll stick to annoying.”

Darwin’s laugh was warm and lovely, and melted something cold that had been lodged in Zephir’s chest since his exile. It was a strange feeling, like thinking you’re bathing in an ice-cold stream in winter, only to find it heated. At that moment, Zephir decided he might as well humor the strange man who thought chewing wood was wise.

That was enough of an acceptance for Darwin because he did not leave Zephir alone after that. At the very least, Darwin was never boring. Meeting up with him seemed like reading a long story out of order. Sometimes he was sneaking away from a mentor, his face still pocked and red from acne, and others, he had his mentee, a young child who seemed ever alarmed by the reckless, happy-go-lucky teacher they got saddled with.

But Zephir learned a lot in the out of order story he became a part of. The first of which was that he, himself was the reason he had to deal with Darwin.

“Yeah, my first mission out, you found me and told me that whenever I time travel, I should find you. That you would always be there.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“No, it doesn’t. But that’s what you said, and you seemed so earnest about the whole thing that I did. Now it’s a habit and you’re stuck with me.”

“Note… to… self… Don’t tell the annoying time traveler to annoy you.”

“Love you too, Zephir.” He glanced at the paper Zephir was writing on. “How would you feel if I told you that little note will become a very important historical artifact?”

Zephir looked from Darwin’s smirking face to the piece of papyrus in his hands. And back again. “Are you kidding me?”

He learned that Darwin always smiled. He hadn’t realized how practiced it was until he saw a younger Darwin, one not quite used to his job as a time traveler, beam. And it was soft and sweet, happy in a way not even a god could describe.

Zephir learned that Darwin worked for an organization that was trying to change humanity for the better.

“Humans got a chance. The time I came from, we were on the edge of extinction because we wasted what we had. And I’m here trying to push back from that.”

“Are you successful?”

Darwin smiled at the question, not a beam nor his default “asshole smile”, but something soft and bittersweet. “Yeah, we have been.”

Zephir wanted to ask why Darwin seemed so sad at the idea. It was right at the tip of his tongue. But something about Darwin caught the words before they could trip out. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the man. After a moment, Darwin did the same. He didn’t know how long they sat there. It could have been a moment, it could have been decades.

Zephir learned that at first, Darwin would travel from his headquarters in era-appropriate clothing, but quickly abandoned that.

“I have a friend in costumes,” He had said. “She hates having to create all new clothing for everyone. Her fingers seem like they are constantly on the edge of bleeding. So I figured, I have an old god and slippery fingers. I could always just, steal the clothing.”

“Slippery fingers?” Zephir asked, raising an eyebrow. There was a long pause. It was in the 1750s England, they sat in a tea shop that Darwin claimed was die for.

“We all had to do what was necessary to survive when I was a kid. I got sloppy. Got caught. It was either the firing squad or time travel.” Darwin shrugged, looking around the London Teahouse before staring at his tea. “Time travel at least seemed like it would be fun while it lasted.”

“Those don’t seem equivalent.”

Darwin shrugged again, shrinking into himself. “No one lasts in this job long, and prisons were too hard to manage for them to exist anymore. So we sent to the edges of space and time, and it’s deemed good enough. Firing squad was considered merciful, apparently, but I was a kid and dumb.”

Zephir always made sure to have clothing Darwin’s size in his apartment after that. He had never cared for mortals much, but the idea of Darwin’s death scared him. Not in the way that he was easily bored either, not anymore.

Zephir learned why the firing squad was considered mercy. Because Darwin would go from young and ambitious to tired and worn down in a day. Zephir saw his friend’s life in snapshots, but what he saw was a man carrying a burden that wasn’t supposed to just sit on his shoulders. He saw him afraid and resigned, then happy and ready to fight the world. He saw Darwin chase a thief down the road in his youth, yelling pointers. Then he saw Darwin, ready to die.

Then he saw Darwin die. He didn’t see what killed him. All he knew was there was a storm and Zephir was cozied up in his apartment, then Darwin was there, all cocky smiled and toothpicks. But the smile was forced more than not, and as Darwin asked what the world was like, he stumbled, collapsing on Zephir’s coffee table. That’s when Zephir saw the wound, a horrible gash through his friend’s abdomen, trying its best to make Darwin’s insides his outsides.

“We need to get you a doctor,” Zephir said. But even as he said it, he knew that it wouldn’t be enough. Not for this.

Darwin shook his head. “Naw, I know dead when I see it. I’m just a little feistier than most corpses.” He gripped Zephir’s hand, almost painfully. “Pissed off the wrong people. They didn’t like it as much as you do. And I… I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me die.” His voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes as if the reality of what was happening had just hit Darwin. “I didn’t want to die alone.”

So he had come to Zephir. “Z, can you bury my ashes in Ohio? It’s where… where my family is. Will be, when they die. Please.”

And who was Zephir to deny him?

Darwin taught Zepir there were worst things than boredom in the world. There was a moment your mind would settle, only for precious memories to grow claws and become feral, ripping the threads of sanity to shreds. He stayed in Ohio, chained by the idea that he could see his friend, his only real friend again.

Darwin’s mentee would come by every so often by himself. They were not the same as the man who came into his life out of order, but he would sit and have a drink and reminisce with the old god, and it made it easier to deal with the pain of thousands of years together. The eternity of fast-paced life that sat in front of him became unbearable to think about.

But even when the gods repealed his exile, he could not leave Ohio. His friend needed someone.

It was 30 years after that that he saw Darwin again. He was so young, acne in full force. The man who he was with was stern and intimidating. Darwin tried to emulate him, but it only took the disco ball, or the smell of popcorn, or the group of friends laughing loudly for him to smile in wonder.

“Hey handsome,” he said, sliding next to Darwin when his handler went to the restroom.

“Hey.”

“Take a turn with me.” He held out his hand. Darwin looked between the restrooms and the roller floor before looking back at Zephir. Zephir had forgotten how green his eyes were. How could he have forgotten? But Darwin took his hand, and they went on the floor.

Darwin was terrible. Truly. Zephir held him close, and as the lights turned from blue to green above them, he whispered, as earnestly as anything he had ever said, “Whenever you time travel, come and find me. I will always be there for you.”

The way Darwin smiled broke his heart and fixed it all over again.

Fantasy
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