Oracle and the Digital Eternities

It was spring, and the earth was already bursting with new life. I lay on my back in a field of clover, arms outstretched, head tilted back and eyes closed. I could feel the sun on my face, warming my skin, and I could hear the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees above. I could smell flowers and grass, and all around me I could hear the buzzing of insects and of birds. It was the only time of year when I could truly relax - when it was still cool enough to be outside, but not cold enough to need a fire.

I heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the underbrush as someone approached. I didn't care what it was - I was enjoying my moment too much to move. I heard the grass rustle as whoever it was sat down next to me. I kept my eyes closed, pretending I didn't know they were there. I heard them take off their shoes and slide their feet into the grass, making a soft sloshing sound that caused me to giggle.

I opened my eyes to see my friend and neighbor, Olaf, grinning at me. He was wearing his typical home-spun tunic, which made him look more like a farmer than a warrior. The tunic and trousers he wore underneath it were both a deep brown - his mother had dyed them with some sort of root that made the cloth lighten as she worked it into the wool, and then darken again as it dried. To him, these clothes were beautiful. To me, they were plain and boring.

Olaf had cut his hair short, probably because his mother told him to. His mother had never been very tolerant of long hair, for some reason. When I had first met him, he had long blonde locks that spilled down past his shoulders. Now he had short hair, shorn close to his head. His haircut had grown out just enough to make his head look like a giant mushroom.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm trying to decide whether or not you're ugly enough to let die," I said.

"That's mean," he said. "You should say nice things."

"You're a boy. Boys don't get nice things."

"My mother says I'm very handsome."

"She would say that. Mothers think all their children are beautiful."

He frowned. "If I'm so ugly, make me look better."

"You want me to heal your back?"

He blushed. "Of course not!"

"Then what do you want? You know I can't really change how you look."

"I want you to show me something."

"What is it?"

"I want you to show me something. Something no one else has ever seen."

"I can't do that, silly boy."

He scowled. "Can too! You're a witch, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I can't do what you want."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not right."

He sighed and stood up, dusting off the back of his pants. "Fine. Be a baby. I thought you were supposed to be brave."

"I am brave."

"You're scared of everything. You won't even talk to the dead people."

I sat up, my heart beating faster. "Don't talk about them!"

"You're afraid of ghosts. You're afraid of death."

"Shut up!"

"I bet you're even afraid of dying!"

I jumped to my feet, my face flushed with anger. "I'm not! And I'm not scared of ghosts!"

"Then why won't you talk to them? If you're so brave, why don't you ask them about the afterlife?"

"I don't want to talk to them!"

"Why not?"

"Because...because..."

"Because why?"

I was trembling. "Because they might tell me something terrible! They might tell me something I don't want to know. They might tell me I have to die."

"You're so stupid."

"Leave me alone."

I turned, ready to walk away.

"They're all dead, you know. All the ghosts. They're all gone. Even your mom."

I stopped.

"They're all gone."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I glanced over my shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"They're not ghosts anymore. They're gone."

I took another step forward. "What do you mean, Olaf?"

"I mean they're not ghosts anymore. They're gone."

"What does that mean?"

"Ask the Oracle. She knows."

"I can't! She won't talk to me."

"Ask her."

"I don't want to."

"She can't hurt you. She's just an old lady. She's nothing special."

"She's scary."

"She's just a librarian. She doesn't even have any magic."

"I know she doesn't. That's why she's scary!"

"Just ask her. She'll tell you everything you want to know."

"I don't want to know."

"Then why did you ask? You said you want to know everything. If you don't want to know this, why bother asking?"

I looked up at Olaf, wringing my hands in frustration. I knew I had to talk to the Oracle. He was right. I couldn't keep wondering about the afterlife.

"Fine," I said. "I'll ask her."

"Good."

"But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anyone to know. Promise, Olaf."

"All right, fine. I promise."

"And you have to go now."

"Why?"

"Because I need to be alone."

He snorted. "You're a big baby. That's why everyone thinks you're a witch. You just hide behind the trees, being silly. You're too afraid to come out and play."