Reaching Higher
Every eternal soul in the nether is born a voddi. These are small, disgusting creatures who live so close to the planet’s core they are constantly subjected to intense heat and pressure. Their rubbery black skin swells, expands, and sags. Often it is seen dragging on the ground behind them. Their eyes are beady and red, almost the size of pinpricks on their bulbous heads; an unnecessary deformity considering the size of their pea brains. Their entire existence, their entire state of being, can be summed up with one word: hopeless.
Each morning with the rumbling of the core the voddi rise, crawling out of their holes with no mouths to complain about their situation. With tired souls they must ascend a long flight of worn out stairs, catching glimpses of the lava below through the occasional missing step. At the top is the reaching field, a raised platform of bedrock that is smooth and level. Hanging from the caverns above are ropes, equal in length and measured perfectly to be just out of the voddi’s reach. Beneath each rope is a white X, designating where the voddi have to stand. They take their spots, stretch their flabby bodies, and then extend their arms out to the ropes above.
Most never become more than a voddi. They spend their eternal life reaching in vain, struggling to attain something that is just out of reach. Their entire existence, their entire state of being, can be summed up with one word: hopeless.
Once in a rare while a voddi will get lucky and grasp the rope. This is always followed by a surprised gasp and fingers tightening. They must be quick to pull themselves up, otherwise the other voddi will rush over and try to drag them down. Whether they think they can climb past that voddi to use the rope for themselves or they just don’t want to see their brethren succeed is anyone’s guess. Each is motivated by their own, private desires, but they always equate to equal suffering.
Once a voddi has lifted itself up and away from the wretches below they must climb for days to reach the next level. There is no place to rest; they must persevere through willpower alone. Those fortunate enough to grab the rope are often motivated enough to continue their journey to the top without succumbing to failure. No one seizes the impossible and decides to stay probable.
Their climb ends at a trap door. With weary hands the voddi must unlatch it, lift it, and climb through. A single mistake and they will plummet down the cavern they tried so hard to escape. If they can pull themselves through the steel frame and into the green light, they will no longer be a voddi. Then they will be an effo.
This is the next stage of life following natural progression in the nether. Underneath the green crystals that illuminate the caves the effo live in, the voddi skin contracts and becomes a pale gray. Their eyes expand and become green orbs. A slit opens on their faces, forming a mouth with teeth designed for consuming leaves and fruit. This is the greatest benefit of being an effo – the ability to eat. As a voddi there is no food, only constant torture in the suffocating heat.
The trap doors, hundreds of them in all, open into a large cavern with countless green crystals sticking out of the bedrock overhead. The floor is covered in moss, which feels soft against the rough feet of the new effo. Against one wall of the cavern is a steel door. There are windows framed in steel on either side where the effo can look to see if anyone new has come up. Rarely does anyone new come up.
On the other side of the steel door is the living quarters of the effo. It is not all that luxurious, but compared to the holes the voddi live in it is heaven incarnate. Each effo is given its own room to sleep in complete with essential amenities. The rooms are carved into the bedrock and are connected by a system of tunnels. Food is delivered each morning to a basket outside of their rooms by small, scampering creatures most only ever get a glimpse of. The quality of life is high, which explains why most who become an effo remain an effo.
For those who are so inclined there are opportunities for advancement to the next level. This is done through a steel door on the side of the caves opposite the one the new effo come in through. On the other side is a large cavern with a shaft running many miles high. Black spheres drift from side to side lazily with ropes dangling from them, tempting any would-be climber into action. To ascend the effo must climb to the top of the rope, wait for the next higher sphere to pass, then jump to that rope and continue up, all the way up, until they reach the next level. A single miss timed jump and they plummet back to the bottom, a painful experience but not life ending. There are no demotions in the nether.
It is a straightforward task that is completable with enough courage and drive. Higher up the difficulty becomes excruciating and this deters many from continued attempts. Rather than facing repeated failure most simply give up. Existence for the effo is comfortable but mundane; why strive for something more when what they have is good enough? Such is the philosophy many of the effo have.
If one were to be so fortunate as to reach the top they will be filled with a level of pride most in the nether never get to feel. Once they open the trap door and pull themselves up into the blinding yellow light, the realization of how vast reality is will dawn upon them. Finally free from the caverns of birth their eternal soul will take its first steps on the surface of the planet. At last they will be able to gaze upon the blue sky and bright sun and know their journey held worth. They will leave the trap door behind and be free to live as they see fit.
Once the sunlight hits their features they are no longer an effo; instead they become a netta. Their skin gains a pinkish hue and their heads shrink. Patches of hair sprout on their bodies and they grow taller and leaner. A handful of teeth in their mouths grow sharper, allowing them to add meat to their diets. Their eyes change color into a random shade, often each eye coming out differently. For the first time in their lives they are identifiable as individuals.
During their travels they will come across other creatures that share the surface with them. Some, called humels, have built villages of their own. If a netta chooses to live among them all they must do is get a job and they are welcome with open arms. All of the creatures on the surface live finite lives, causing some to revere the eternal netta as gods. Most shun this title, feeling humbled after their journey that began so long ago as tortured voddi. They prefer to be viewed as any other creature; they know that in a long enough life everything is lost.
If a netta wanted there are opportunities to move onto the next level. There is one rope that hangs down from one cloud on one mountaintop that leads into the sky. For the few netta there are, even fewer know where the mountain is. To most it is a whispered tale, told around fire pits and often with disbelief. The rare few that are meant to continue their journey will find the mountain, stand beneath the rope, and reach out to their farthest length. Once they grasp the rope and their feet leave the surface, they will know there are no limits.
The climb up the rope takes days, reminiscent of the climb they did as young voddi, and leads through clouds and atmosphere. The air gets crisp and frigid, causing strain on the lungs of the netta. Once they reach the plateau waiting at the top of the clouds – a gold platform with crystal arches – they will have ascended the planet and become more than a netta. They will then become a rezzo.
The rezzo live life in a state of perpetual understanding. They live in cities made of gold and reflective crystal, everything always glistening because the sun is always shining. Their skin lightens up into a translucent white and they gain a glowing quality about them. With all the world below them and all of space above them they are free to view existence with unfiltered eyes. Only the few become rezzo; most don’t even know there is a life that can be lived in the clouds.
If one had the desire to, there is opportunity for advancement to the next level. To do so requires the coordination of all the rezzo. At the very highest peak of the tallest golden tower there is a rope hanging down from the black depth of space. It is far out of reach, but by forming a rezzo pyramid one can grasp it and lift themselves up. After this is done they must wait for another to join their ranks for the cycle to continue.
Once a rezzo asked, “Do we ever stop reaching?”
And once a rezzo answered, “Do you want to?”
-Written by Adam Crate
