The Oracle

Ilrica flipped Gerald with the tip of her tail. "You ever done this before, Dyson?"

"Well, in my order the Stolleckian High Priests can do it. It's normally not done until the Oathstone Ritual when you take your vows, though."

Zurra jumped in line before anyone else. "Well, let's get that done early. Maybe we'll find out why Gerald has such bad luck all the time."

Ilrica got in as well and paid the fee. "Yeah, maybe he was like a dirty old man, peeking at schoolgirls or something."

"Or one of those pretty boys that marries really old women for their money!"

"Why do you guys always assume the worst about me?"

Madam Ne'Flav slowly came out, her aged hands looking so dry the skin was cracking at every joint. She took Zurra's hand in a motherly way. "Which incarnation would you like to see?"

"The first before this one, I've already seen the second and third."

"Very well, open your soul to me."

They closed their eyes and the two of them glowed in resonance for a moment. The old woman looked up and smiled, then waved her hand. A mist appeared in the air, and within that mist was the image of a Zurinite professor speaking before a large lecture hall full of students. Whatever she was lecturing about, Gerald could tell two things: First, that it was incredibly advanced, and second, that she refused to slow down for her overwhelmed students.

"Oh, look at me, I'm so cool!" Zurra gushed.

Ilrica opened a window and ran a search. "According to Central, that is Professor Urabin, third daughter of Senator Tau'sin..."

Zurra's eyes went wide. "I met a Tau'sin back on Sloi. Oh my goodness, she could be my granddaughter! I'm gonna call her and say hi when we get back to the ship."

"...she taught advanced botany at Tauis Mandarii from 44-504 until 49-011 C.E. Won three Torbel Acheivement awards for her scholarly papers and research. According to Central everyone called her the pink terror. She was notorious for being completely humorless and inflexible with her students and colleagues."

Gerald leaned over. "This is real, right? This isn't some sort of scam?"

"Of course it is real, don't be disrespectful," answered Cha'Rolette.

Gerald stood back up. "Okay, sorry."

They both stood there for a moment in silence, refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

"Although I see what you mean. I simply cannot wrap my head around the idea of her being a scholar," said Cha'Rolette.

"I CAN HEAR BOTH OF YOU, YOU KNOW?" Zurra said sulking.

Ilrica was next. "Show me the fourth one, that one is my favorite."

Madam Ne'Flav took her hand, and then displayed a fine and strong Bertulf huntress, standing atop a dead dinosaur- looking thing thirty times her size.

Ilrica was ecstatic. "Oh wow, look at me! I'm so tall, and look at the size of those fangs! Awesome! And look at that spear. I bet she carved that out of a mannota rib! I never get tired of looking at this one."

Gerald smiled. "Well, she seems happy, although I'm kind of surprised that she was also a hunter in her last few lives."

"That is fairly common, actually," said Cha'Rolette.

"Really?"

"Yes, why?" asked Cha'Rolette.

"I dunno, I guess I figured you'd spend a couple lifetimes here and there as a bird or a goat or something."

"Only if you really screw up."

"Oh."

Cha'Rolette was next. The raven-haired woman in the mist had kind eyes, and a gentle presence.

"Is that really the Duchess?" Ilrica wondered.

The woman flicked her hair over her shoulder and raised her scepter. All around her soldiers rose up and charged forward into battle, singing her praises.

"Forward my mindless minions!" She shouted. "Die for your Countess!"

"Oh, that's the Duchess all right," Zurra chuckled.

"Hmph."

"According to Central, that was Countessa De'Lacourd. She ruled over the entire Alisian sub-sector from 39-992 until 46-075 C.E."

Cha'Rolette looked a little miffed. "So, I was an Alisian in my last life. Now I feel bad for closing down their tarnoc factories last year. I suppose I should send them a gift basket."

"Wow, you were an aristocrat in your last life too! That is pretty lucky," Gerald said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Luck? Luck has nothing to do with it."

"It doesn't?"

"Well, of course not. I've been an aristocrat for at least the last hundred lifetimes. Everyone in my family has."

"They have?"

"Yeah, mine too," Zurra confirmed.

The purple people behind them were getting impatient, so Cha'Rolette pulled him out of the line. "Look, Gerald, I know you humans are still new to all of this, but the laws of Kharma have been known to the rest of us for tens of thousands of cycles."

"I don't get it."

"I can explain!" Zurra offered, raising her hand.

"Absolutely not. You go over there and study that purple bush or something," said Cha'Rolette.

"Hey!"

Cha'Rolette sat him down. "Think of it this way. There are only a few children born into affluent families each year. That means all of the souls from previous generations are competing for those choice spots. Elite families, like mine, make sure that gobs of money are donated to charity in their names. Basically, they ensure their position for their next life."

"You can't be serious."

"I would not lie about something this important."

Gerald was incensed. "But... no, that just can't be. Surely other things count for good, not just money."

"Well, sure, all kind deeds count for Kharma. We elite simply make sure that we donate so much money that no one from a lower class could ever compete. A commoner could spend their entire life doing nothing but good deeds and won't even come close to generating as much positive Kharma as an elite can. The Ssykes family has already donated several trillion credits in my name over the years, and I'm not even a full adult yet."

Gerald couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So, all that stuff we've done together; all the new orphanages. All that good work. That was just you gaming the system so that you get to be reborn as an aristocrat again?"

Cha'Rolette gasped. "No... I mean at first, yes, but... then things started to change."

The disappointment in his eyes cut her to the core.

"It's not her fault, Gerald," Ilrica added. "This is the way it's always been. I've been a huntress for as far back as I've cared to check."

Zurra sat next to Gerald and grabbed his arm. "No, it's okay, go ahead and blame the Duchess. I'm on your side, Geri."

Gerald put his hands up on his head. "I don't like this. This has to be a lie. It just can't be true. It can't. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT!"

He stood up and tripped, falling sideways and crashing into Madam Nef'Flav. Her eyes flashed and she began screaming, holding the sides of her head, and collapsing to the ground.

"Crap Gerald, what did you do to her?"

"I... I didn't do anything. I'm sorry!"

All of the gypsies ran in to attend to their matriarch. As the woman convulsed, they carried her lovingly back into the inner sanctum.

"I'm very sorry, but Madam Nef'Flav needs her rest. She will not be able to do any more readings today."

The crowd booed at Gerald. From somewhere, a purple rock was thrown and hit him in the head.