Her Only Purpose Is To Save

APOCALYPSE CHILD'S DIMENSION

“Is this everyone?” the stark leader commanded with his hands folded behind his back.

Margara held her baby tightly as she waited in line. Her daughter had only been born four days ago. She didn’t even want to bring her out of the house for too long, just in case she became ill. Covering her daughter’s beautiful face, she tried to stay hard as a rock. All Margara wanted was to raise her daughter with all the love and devotion she had to give. If she were the chosen one, that would never happen. However, Margara could not take her newborn out of the area. She would be killed for messing around with the selection process.

Any other day. Any other week. Any other year. The event did not come that often, but nature chose when babies were born. There was no changing that fact, and her daughter was going to be a part of that event.

For that day was decision day. A girl would be taken for the sake of the world. Although her life would not be sacrificed physically, emotionally it would not be a real life. The girl would have no name, only be known as the Apocalypse Child. She would have no friends or family. She would be revered and worshipped daily by everyone in the village, but she would lead a hard life of having to be perfect. Only a perfect person could be the Apocalypse Child. Whips and physical abuse, anything could be used to attain what they wanted out of the child chosen. Even her innocent four day old daughter. She would never see her again, only worship her from the ground.

There were parents there with the same kind of dread Margara faced, while others were bursting with joy. They were in love with the concept of their daughter being worthy of so much attention, having such a role to play in the world. It was far from what Margara felt, but it was not something that could be helped.

There were two people, usually children in their culture, chosen to change fate for the sake of the world. Some dimensions had strong powers that were so strong it was breaking a fabric between it and other dimensions. Some dimensions were so weak that it couldn’t maintain a strong bond with others. A child between a weaker world and a stronger world was needed to restore a bond.

No one could travel through dimensions except certain gods though, and they could not be on the same level of understanding it took to understand these creatures. No, it took a boy and a girl chosen to travel by the gods to deal with the situations.

According to legend, it started at the beginning of time. A boy and girl had always traveled from dimension to dimension, making sure the balance remained equal. For if the balance was thrown off even a little, a dimension would collapse. If too many dimensions collapsed, then all of reality would be sent to hell. In theory. Truly, only the gods would know what would happen.

Margara’s planet in her dimension had always raised the chosen child who would be the Apocalypse Child for centuries. It was an honor to have such a privilege. It was also a curse though. Not just for the hard life, but what she had to do. The one who was the chosen boy would bring couples together to create the weak and strong bond needed. It was a fulfilling role that only strengthened a person’s spirit.

However, the girl. The Apocalypse Child kept a strong bond from becoming stronger. When a child could be conceived that would be too powerful, it was her responsibility to stop it however she could. She destroyed loving connections that had already bloomed. Anyone on the outside looking in would say the Apocalypse Child was the villain. The boy was the savor of love, while the girl doomed a couple throughout eternity.

That could be her daughter. Whipped and beaten to become correct. To be perfect. To become a master at destroying love. The result would leave her . . . “emotionless.”

“Do not speak!” one of the guards said as they shook her arm. “This is a serious matter, do not speak unless you are spoken to.”

Margara straightened up and tried not to think of the possibilities. One baby would be picked that day. Any infant under one year old was a candidate but the younger, the better to the leaders. The younger it was, the less bonding it would have with its mother, which is why her fear consumed her so much. Were there any children younger than four days? Oh, why couldn’t they just pick from the parents who looked excited to have their child chosen? Why did she have to allow her baby girl to go through this?

Please. Anyone else’s. It was a selfish wish, but this was her baby. From the day it was born, the doctors would not even put down an official name. They knew the chances were high that it would be chosen and such nonsense would have to be reversed anyhow. Since she held her baby, she did not have a moment of bliss where she did not fear the outcome.

“Name?” An official came toward her. She had no choice but to let them peek at her daughter. “Newborn?”

“Four days,” Margara had to admit. She wanted to lie but to do so would be treason in such a tradition. She would be killed and her baby taken away. “The doctors would not let me name her.” She watched in horror as he lifted her up and began to take her forward.

Not her.

Not her.

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“I don’t get it, why do we always have to come here?” Almada said as she grabbed some of the red petals out of the basket and sprinkled them to the sacred girl. “I’m hungry and she has enough. More than enough. The whole family could live on a day of her offerings for a month.”

“You do not speak ill of the one who saves us all,” Margara chided her daughter. “She bears a heavy responsibility.” Kneeling down she offered a small prayer like many others were doing.

Almada tried to hide a sigh as she bent down. The Apocalypse Child was her age, but she didn’t ever come out to play. Day and night people brought her flowers, offerings, expensive jewelry, food, and prayers. Almada barely even bothered to make eye contact with the strange sacred girl’s temple. This week though, they were going to be having a big supper with friends and there was little time to prepare because her mother had arranged that day to be their worshipping day to the sacred girl. “Are we done now? She got the flowers.”

“Almada.” Her mother glared at her. “You should be respectful to her. If it was not for her-“

“-we would not be saved from the eventual apocalypse,” Almada finished her sentence.

“Almada.” Her mother paused. “Our family worships her more than any other.”

“So?” Almada groaned. “It’s not a competition. My friends only come twice a week on average, they say, but we are always here.”

“Yes, even during blizzards and the rains,” her mother said softly. “Do you ever wonder why we worship her the most?”

Almada shrugged but watched her mother’s eyes. They were becoming teary. Worshipping often made her mother emotional.

“I weep for her every day, Almada. I am never allowed to see or hear her, yet I cannot waste a single day to be near her. To thank her.” Her mother wiped her eyes. “You are old enough to know now. She took your place as the Apocalypse Child.”

Almada looked back at her mother. “What?”

“You do not have the riches, fame or the destiny of her. You have your father, your little brother, and I though. She has no one. If not for her, you would be there. With no one.” Her mother gestured toward the Apocalypse Child. “See not what the others see. Imagine a life without me, and only of what she has. That could have been you. She may be destined to save us all, but she has already saved you a terrible fate.”

“Well . . .” Almada didn’t know what to say to that. She was supposed to be the Apocalypse Child? “At least she is worshipped and in good hands.”

“Look at her. Not what’s around her. Look at your savior with clear eyes, Almada.”

Almada looked up toward the girl. It was hard to see her at the angle she was kneeling at in the temple. She got up and headed more toward the left. She was still too small to quite see her. Seeing a barrel, she climbed up on it and peered in.

The Apocalypse Child was not even aware of anyone praying toward her. She picked up no gifts or offerings. She wore an outfit of green. Simple and backless. On her back were red marks.

Almada almost lost her grip, she was so surprised. Who dared to lay a hand on the sacred girl? She ran back toward her mother. “How could anyone do that?”

“I know not of what you speak, but I suppose the answer is training,” her mother said, answering her in a way that would not get them into trouble in public. “We do not worship the individual girl, but the position she holds. This is why she has no name. Now, come pay respects for the Apocalypse Child so we can be on our way.”

“But . . .” Almada didn’t really know what to say. “I was really supposed to be stuck there?”

“Before you were taken and announced, mere seconds before your life was changed forever, a witch came. A powerful witch. She practically threw her month old daughter toward the one carrying you. I quickly caught you as he grabbed her.” Her mother gulped. “I will never forget her words. ‘She is useless to me. Use her, or kill her." She closed her eyes. "A mother so cruel. Without her though . . . no. Come, Almada, I won’t risk losing you for the sake of overstaying my welcome.”

“Hm.” Almada looked one more time at the window. “Do you still have my new jumping rope in there, momma?” When her mother reached for it, Almada looked at it. It wasn’t flowers or a prayer, but the girl would get to play with it. Throwing it as high as she could, it reached a ledge. “It caught on the ledge.”

“Come, it’s getting late and we have plans.” Margara grabbed her hand. Almada left, but not before noticing the jump rope she threw had somehow disappeared from the ledge. “Thank you for giving up so much to save us. Hail, Apocalypse Child!” she shouted.

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Apocalypse Child kept her eyes trained on her studies in front of her. She heard the prayers and knew of the donations daily, but she couldn’t go out and say ‘you’re welcome’ each day. She had not even done anything yet. Soon though she would be worthy of the praises. She would defeat the love out there that threatened to send reality into hell.

Today though, her mind did dwell on the side of her abode. A young girl about her age kept looking at her. Getting up to a good level to see inside at her level was a feat. It was not her fault that she took notice and it defeated her studies for a moment.

In her hand she held the offering of the girl. It was a rope of a different color than the usual she knew. It was softer rope, not the kind she had been bound with in the past. The endings were tied up by themselves. Realizing she was holding something that could be considered a toy, she tossed it in a corner and continued with her studies.

She must study.

She must learn.

That girl depended on her. All of their civilization depended on her. Worlds depended upon her. If she failed, it would mean the end. She would not be the cause of the apocalypse. No Apocalypse Child had ever failed, and she would not be the first.

She would be the savior. She would study and learn. She would save everyone. She was superior, the most superior being in any dimension.

She must save.

Had to save everyone.

Study. Learn. Save.

“Apocalypse Child!”

Apocalypse Child seized up as she heard one of her teachers. He grabbed the rope beside her. “It was an offering. Someone threw it beside my window, I felt compelled to examine it and see if it was worthy of me.”

“Is it?” he practically growled at her.

“It’s some synthetic rope, dull and soft with colors for the weak minded that need bright colors to lure them into a false sense of safety.” Apocalypse Child did not lift her head. “No, after studying it, I know it is not worthy of me at all.”

“Then why did you pick it up?” He threw the rope down into the corner. “There are several people offering prayers, flowers, and expensive trinkets to you. That Apocalypse Child is not an appropriate form of respect.”

“Yes, I know.” She kept her eyes trained on her studying papers. “A moment of lapse as I studied it. I am not familiar with child play. That which I am unfamiliar with, I cannot use to help me in the future.”

“Words of wisdom.” He pointed to the corner with the rope. “That is child play. There is nothing to it. They have simple things and make use of it for their own petty desires to waste time. Study it, but do not play with it.”

Apocalypse Child nodded lightly. She did not turn her face away until well after he was gone.

She stared at the jump rope. A child’s toy. Something that the peasants of the village gave their children to play with to occupy their time. If they were not sedated with something, they would cry and whine until death. That is what she had learned.

She did not need sedated. She had things to do. There was no time to play with toys or any frivolities when one was responsible for saving the universe. Every moment that was lost would be something she didn’t learn that could be used for saving.

Avoiding the rope, she continued with her studies.

She had to learn.

Had to study.

Had to save.