Topic: Locating Heaven

AnneBonny

Date: 2007-06-30 12:09 EST
Anne was pleased by her secretary's message: construction had already begun at the site of the Bonny Corporation's new pleasure palace (code-named "Hell" until the marketing people could come up with something better.) The work was being done by "undocumented laborers" - well, she knew what that meant. It was distasteful, using the reanimated dead in such a way, but she hated to think of the toll the forced labor would take on living beings. Nicholai was right; it was not only cheap and efficient, but a preferable alternative to abusing human rights (or those of any other sentient person.) At worst, their sin was something along the lines of "desecrating the dead" - possibly illegal, but hey, this was Rhy'din.

The next phase of the great Heaven and Hell endeavor was approaching. She had found the site for the "Heaven" project (a couples resort and family fun-fair.) The land was unbelievably lovely, a bay surrounded by pale sand and trees. A river ran a curving course from the bay, carrying the warm sea-water inland. The fun-fair would be on one side of the river, with the beaches on the other side and the islands in the bay designated for adult use by couples on romantic retreats. Or other groups of loving individuals... polygamy seemed to be pretty common here.

It was really a lucky find, this piece of property. Construction couldn't start just yet... the seller was insisting on more money, now that his property was closer to the ocean. Anne's lawyers were trying to explain to him that he'd signed on the deal before the tidal waves, which had collapsed almost thirty miles of ground standing between him and the sea. Anne was confident of the sale, though she privately expected to have to settle out of court for a bit extra. It was fortunate that the property still stood anyway. When the lake had become a bay, it could easily have been covered in water.

Under the smooth blue waters of the bay, the debris washed in from the shores tumbled in underwater currents. Anne had already strolled about underwater (with the help of some lead boots) assessing damage. The splintered wood would be turned soon enough into lovely driftwood, the broken stonework turned to pretty pebbles. But someone had to clean up the dead cattle and whatnot, before some swimmer got a nasty surprise.

Good thing that zombies had as little need to breathe as she did. She wondered briefly whether zombies naturally sank, or whether she'd have to find a lot of weighted belts in a hurry.

AnneBonny

Date: 2007-07-19 22:48 EST
Anne surveyed the half-finished resort with satisfaction. Construction was proceeding even faster than she'd hoped. The clay men, golems, were as tireless as the zombies, and much more hygienic. They were also surprisingly durable, again an improvement over the undead minions.

Maybe it was for the best, Anne reflected, that Nicholai had - 'left' them - when he did. Necromancy was useful, but it was best not to depend on it too much. You never knew when your necromancer would self-destruct, or be eaten by banshees, or something. And likely as not, your necromancer would start dabbling in demonology, and then there were bleeding walls and lawsuits and other complications. Anne distrusted demons; they were better at contract law than her.

Golems, now - fully trustworthy, as was the scientific genius who had created them for her. They baffled her, as Brandon's accomplishments so often did. The golems she'd heard of were made by holy men, animated by ancient words of power written in their heads. She remembered the story of how a golem is killed - one stroke of a Hebrew character erased, to turn the word on their forehead from "Life" into "Nothing".

These golems had no words in (or on) their heads. When she asked their resident mage (or so she named him) how the things worked, Brandon had blinked and said it was "simple science". He didn't even call them by the old names, but merely described them as "animated dolls". The technique of creating them was quite simple, he assured her, once the physics of it were properly understood.

Anne had given up trying to understand Brandon. With the grateful eyes of someone witnessing a miracle, she sat and sipped a mint julep as the earthen bodies - white ceramic, red mud, pale grey clay - endlessly stooped and carried, built and tiled. Around her amazed eyes the palace of pleasure was coming together, rising skyward.

"Excelsior," murmurred Anne, and drank her drink.