Improvised Destiny

I was born of the earth. I was born of science and thaumaturgy. Flesh blood infused into soil and water. Sentience, purpose, and free will granted. I was alive. I was without a soul. Master said I was truly free. I was bound to no master. No god guiding me to a preordained end. Heaven, Hell, Nirvana, no state of being existed outside of this molded design that is my body. I am truly what you see. Incapable of lying. Incapable of deceit. I was without everything the living prized and dreaded. I was nothing more than what I was. I was told I was truly blessed. Master and his pupils said my essence was perfect, for I knew the emptiness that was Oblivion from my very birth. Is this truly a blessing? I now rest here, in the emptiness of space, with nothing but my thoughts and future before me. I ponder. I question. Was I blessed with this emptiness? Is this feeling of freedom what I truly want. I know nothing else. It must be what I desire...

---------- As the sax player went into his solo, Rez quietly typed away at his laptop. Cigarette smoke from other patrons gathered around Rez, half-obscuring him from casual sight. An untouched glass of water sat at the end of Rez's table, the ice totally melted, a ring of condensation forming on the table below.

Some time ago, a friend of his told him that the mood of the bar evoked inspiration-- that of all of the places in Khazan, he felt the most alive sitting at this table, wasting away the night with an untouched drink and real music wavering in the background.

Rez heard notes. Improvised notes. The texture of their pattern fascinated him. He heard every note right before it was sounded from the sax player's horn. Yes, the notes are improvised, but one note leads to another.

Just like words.

Spontaneous conversation was little different than a jazz musician improvising. It may sound different every time, but the same patterns and expectations are present. You may play this note differently or phrase this sentence differently each time, but with a trained ear, anticipating the apparent surprise becomes second nature.

The smoke about Rez parted.

"Yes, you can take a seat, Ravenna." Rez said without raising his head from his computer screen.

A figure dressed in purple and black sat down across from Rez, her dying white hair barely peeking from under the hood that adorned her head.

"I will have nothing, Madame." Ravenna gazed from the corner of her eye at the waitress whom, in her mind, was preparing to walk over to their table. The waitress thought nothing more of approaching the table.

"Yes, it has been a long time, Ravenna. Ten years since the fall."

"You know, Little Paradox, that I am not doing well. We may not have known one another on friendly terms, but you know of my ailment."

"And I do know that pleasantries are only reserved for those that have the time to behave like the rest of insignificant humanity."

Silence, as the band finishes its song. Shuffling of feet. Rez remains attuned to his computer screen. Ravenna remains staring at him in cold admiration.

"You seek The Named." Rez says, lifting his eyes as the piano player hits the first note of the next song.

"You know where to find Him."

"I have no requests or payments in store."

"You only do this out of the possibility my plan will harm those seeking you."

"You disapprove of this selfishness."

Ravenna smiled. "He was abandoned by the Majestics on a small asteroid in Khazan's orbit."

"A dismal, solitary fate."

Ravenna nodded. "His arrival on Khazan will indeed signal our full reunion, Little Paradox. Every living disciple of Mystra herself."

"And with that..."

Ravenna put her index finger to her mouth, hushing Rez.

"This duet ends prematurely. Every pattern is broken, sometime."

The smoke parted way. Ravenna rose from her seat. As the smoke enveloped around Rez again, so did Ravenna disappear.

The final note chimed on the piano.