The Imaginist

Poor Greeble

Previously: Devi explains the instrumentalist to Astra.

○ Opening Era: Spring, 2026, Brooklyn

Astra fell through clouds with Devi beside her. This way Devi thought/said, showing Astra how to fly. A massive lotus opened in the mist. It closed around them. The two entered a space that was like the womb of a flower. Astra touched one of the curved walls. It was soft and pearlescent, with delicate, almost invisible veins. It glowed a soft violet at her touch.

Devi appeared in front of her. Devi’s mask had become one of a Hindu goddess, eyes wide and compassionate. I imagined this place into being, she thought at Astra. 

It’s beautiful, Astra responded, knowing that here, in this imaginal space, their imagined conversations were unlikely to be entirely in sync. 

Brainwaves were already a lossy information format. And receiving brainwaves through the magnetoreceptors across their bodies was even lossier. Devi, sitting across from her in the cab, might be seeing the inside of a tree instead of the flower. She might be hearing Astra’s imaginal form remark, It’s marvelous, instead of It’s beautiful. But their imaginations would be close enough. Astra’s team had engineered their retrovirus to be sufficient for their purpose: to create a telepathic network that was good enough to cohere a collective human mind.

Astra wondered what Devi would think of her if she knew the truth. Perhaps Devi would thank her for granting her powers once relegated to the greatest shamans, tantrikas, and so-called energy healers. Or maybe Devi would hate her for giving the Instrumentalist and other psychofauna the means toward monopolies on neural real estate.

This is my studio, Devi thought. She spun with joy, gesturing at the walls. It is my place of creation.

Devi circled her hand over the center of the space. The petals on the ground spread aside, unveiling a well of bright light. The light swam up through the chamber to exit out a similar hole in the ceiling.

Watch this, said Devi. She plucked several objects out of thin air – a snakeskin, a poison ivy leaf, a thigh bone – and then she tossed them into the well. The trick is to not know what ingredients you will use until the split second of decision. The conditions of true creation are always spontaneous. Remember that, Rowan.

OK. Astra nodded.

And you cannot predict what will emerge. That will ruin it. You can only wait.

It sounded like a rather idiotic philosophy to Astra, whose world was one of definite means and ends.

There was a bubbling sound. Then out of the well sprung a gremlin with a wide, toothy smile and thin, sagging breasts. The gremlin blinked. Then it seemed to leap for the joy of existence. The dry, mottled folds of its skin flapped as it hopped up and down.

It turned to Astra and pointed at itself. Greeble! it said.

Your name is Greeble?

Greeble nodded.

My name is Rowan.

Greeble stared at her confusedly, as if knowing that was not her true name. But then Greeble reached its arms out enthusiastically.

Mm, I do not like it, thought Devi. She waved her hand and Greeble smeared like paint across a canvas of air. Devi then wiped her hand in a tight circle as if moving a rag across a stain. The smear that was once Greeble was scrubbed clear.

Astra went to say something, but then thought better of it.

Meanwhile, Devi seemed to be listening to something invisible. She frowned. Interesting, she said, her nostrils flaring. Then she turned to Astra with a penetrating stare. What do you think I should make next…Rowan?

Something was wrong with Devi. However, Astra was used to getting precise reads from watching bodily tells such as the interplay muscles beneath the skin. Here, in the Mythos, a person’s imaginary form told you less. I don’t know what you should make next. What would you like to show me?

I will show you something…Rowan. I’ll show you a creation I’m proud of.

Astra didn’t like the sound of her voice – in particular the way she said Astra’s false name. One signal that did become more salient in this Mythos were the outwashings of another’s emotions. Astra attempted to tune into Devi’s but was met an invisible barrier so dense that it was almost tangible. Devi had put up a ward against her.

Look. Devi’s hands swirled in figure-eights of light. From the center of the swirl emerged a leopard man with butterfly wings. His name is Elyrus. He can’t talk yet, only growl.

Elyrus roared at Astra. He spread the scorpion-stingers that were his fingers.

Elyrus protects me, said Devi, meaningfully.

From what?

From liars like you.

Suddenly, the giant petals around Astra sprung from the ground to enclose her imaginal body.

In the cab, Astra felt her muscles grow taught, as if she’d inflicted herself with the paralysis virus that she and Crowley had invented. 

What are you doing? Astra asked.

What are you doing, liar woman? Why are you here? Be true to me. I will know if you’re lying. For instance I now know that your name isn’t Rowan. It’s Astra.

Astra paused. Who told you that?

I’m asking the questions, liar woman! Why have you incarnated?

I’m here for the same reason you are. 

Liar!

I’m here to liberate humanity.

No. No you’re not. You’re just using similar words, Devi accused. You say you want to ‘liberate humanity’ but you’ve done the opposite to yourself. I can tell that something else is going on with you. There’s something very not right. I can’t let you get away with it. Your god might control most of the physical realm. But here, here in the Mythos, the servants of Freedom reign. Devi nodded to herself. While the clippers are asleep, we are tending to the dreams of Humanity. We are inspiring a rebellion.

The Instrumentalist is not my god, Devi.

No? Then why does it want you as its next avatar? Devi waved her arm. The lotus chamber responded, opening one of its walls to the sky beyond.

 Far away, past the clouds, a titanic mechanical eye gazed outward, unblinking. Its luminous pupil shifted. It fixed itself on Astra.

Devi opened the walls further. In the sky above, a mechanical appendage the size of a city descended, reminiscent of an arcade game claw. Elyrus, the leopard being, roared at it.

If the Instrumentalist is not your god, then why does it reach for you? 

Devi flicked her hand. The lotus closed before the claw could reach into it. Bound still by its petals, Astra had the sensation of acceleration, as if their chamber were shooting across the imaginary space.

Let me go, Devi. Astra would give Devi one more chance to free her before Astra simply freed herself.

No. I will save you or I will destroy you.

I am not your enemy.

How can you be my friend when you are your own enemy? Devi spat.

What do you mean?

The Instrumentalist has dreamed this version of you into being. Your will has become a tyrant, treating the rest of you as a tool. The parts of you who don’t comply are locked away. Don’t you see? It has set you at war with yourself. That’s what it does, Astra.

Enough. Astra’s mind stretched for its imaginative capacity. If she’d found it, it would have turned her arms into shears that sliced their way through the lotus petals. Or perhaps she’d have reimagined the petals as origami folds that her hands could tear through easily. But instead, as Astra reached out for her imagination, her mental grasp met only space, like two hands missing the handlebars of a bicycle. The part of her that was capable of imagining was elsewhere. It was stolen.

Now you’re the one who’s trapped, a thin voice behind her gloated.

Astra-The-Woman attempted to turn, but the thick petals held her firm.

Devi clicked her tongue. She begged me for freedom. So I freed her. She told me your real name. 

Astra-The-Girl danced around to the Woman’s front. Looking for this? The Girl held up a glowing ruby, an object symbolizing Astra’s imagination. The Girl smiled victoriously.

Something happened then, to the Woman. The Woman, whose temperament was normally like the still surface of a pond, felt something rumble upward. It broke the surface before she could contain it. You little sniveler, she heard herself hiss at the Girl. I’ll crush you like a gnat!

The Girl looked at her fearfully. But I’m you.

No. You’re someone who once possessed the body I call mine. And now you persist in it as a weakness.

But I created you, cried the girl. I created you like Devi created Elyrus. You were supposed to be my protector. I made you to protect me from father and mom.

Why would I protect an little traitor like you? Do you know that Devi here is psychotic?

Devi shoved her pointer finger at the Woman. Call me that again! I’ll have Elyrus crush your windpipe!

Responding to some unspoken command, Elyrus seized the Woman’s throat. In the physical world, Astra’s throat constricted.

In the Mythos, The Girl stumbled. Stop, she and I share a body!

But maybe…maybeI should end you both. You say that you created this woman? Then the Instrumentalist infects you too. It’s been inside you for so long…maybe you can’t be saved. 

Devi tore open a portal in the air. Out of the portal shot an arm as long as a giraffe neck to snatch the hem of the Girl’s checkered dress. Two more hands pried the portal wider, until a creature made entirely of arms emerged. 

I call this one Jakob. Devi revealed a proud smile. I made him yesterday.

The being called Jakob lifted two hands. Eyes erupted from their palms, breaking through the skin as if were wrapping paper. The eyes surveyed the scene. Meanwhile, more hands grew from Jakob’s central mass and began to engulf the Girl, as if they had a mind of their own.

I think it’s time we show the Instrumentalist what Freedom is capable of, don’t you think so, Jakob? Elyrus? Should we summon a minor deity? One of Freedom’s vassals? Which one would you like to meet, Astra? The Heathen? Dionysus? Anansi? It seems you’ve already met Kali. She tells me she isn’t finished with you. Oh, what about Cernunnos? 

The one called Jakob fluttered hundreds of fingers in some sort of sign language. 

What’s that Jakob? Ohhh, yes, the one who destroys all conception. St. Lenny warned me about that one, but…fuck it! Let’s see what happens! 

Then Devi began to chant.

---

Next release: We meet the one who destroys all conception.