(~1,500 words)
Content warnings: Insects

I, myself being Agar II Pharaoh of Egypt, rise. The sun is shining. It is awe inspiring. It is blinding. I stroke the stone Ibis which I keep by my bed and exhale. A fusion flows through me. I feel my chest loosen. I pick up the Ibis and walk to the window. I inhale and close my eyes for only a few seconds. A laugh escapes my lips. Not a full expression of joy but, at most, an acknowledgement of it. An indulgence. The flow of air through my lungs reminds me of my connection. My connection to the Ibis; my connection to this land; my connection to every other person in existence and the gods which watch me. The responsibility to which I hold my work.

In the distance I see the base of my pyramid and I feel the fusion again. I stroke the Ibis and I think about how every brick of this great structure belongs to me, is made of me and will one day become me. I exhale and let another laugh escape. I make a mental note not to indulge in that again today. Not when there is work to be done.

I float downstairs, Ibis in hand, and approach the base of my pyramid. I feel a sensation shoot across my left hand. It feels like ripples across my skin. In an idle moment I look down even though I know there is nothing there. I crane my neck upwards. My pyramid is a great achievement already but when it is finished it will be a marvel. A wonder. I think about how one day my essence will be imbued in this pyramid for the rest of eternity. The immortal soul of Agar II will be forever tied to his immortal structure. I almost feel another laugh creeping out but I avert my mind and begin.

I find an empty spot on the ground, nothing but flat sand a few dozen meters away from the pyramid’s base. I plant my feet into the ground and focus on the space. I hold the Ibis with both hands, resting one hand on its head. I think about my pyramid. I think about all the people who will one day worship it. I think about my spirit resting inside of it. I think about the infinite passage of time. I think about becoming part of the infinite passage of time. I think about the universe which loves me. My eyes refocus and a brick made of sand has appeared.

The brick is twice my height. It takes me a full minute to walk around it. I take it in from every angle. I take in every unique scratch and mark. Every bump and ripple. Every glint of light reflecting off its surface.

A single brick is normally overlooked. It is considered merely one piece in a grand whole. To me, every brick is essential. Every brick is vital because every brick is a part of me. Therefore, every brick must be understood and appreciated. Only then will my pyramid be truly worshipped as my masterpiece. Only then will my spirit follow time infinitum. Even if people do not see the detail, they will feel it. They will feel my essence.

I grip the Ibis. I feel its power flow through me. I feel a rippling sensation shoot up my left arm but I ignore it. I exhale. I focus on the giant brick of sand in front of me. I feel the power of the Ibis flow through my hands. I feel it flow through my arms, through my torso, through my heart through my skull through my brain through my eyes and out, towards the brick. The brick rises. I guide the brick upwards, allowing myself to float in front of it.

I return to the base of my pyramid. I take the entire structure in and I exhale. I look for the place where this brick belongs. Slowly, I circle around the pyramid. I examine the shell of my eternal home from every angle before I find the place.

I feel the tips of my fingers quiver as I stroke the Ibis’ stone beak. A sudden vibration rockets through the veins in my hands. The Ibis feels white hot. It is burning hot. Blisteringly hot. I look at the brick floating in front of me. I push myself through the pain and focus solely on the brick. I think of how breathtaking my pyramid will be when it is finished. I think about all of the people across time who will look at my pyramid in awe and commune with my spirit as I guide the world to greatness. I think about how the pain is the cost of that greatness and that it is the sacrifice I am making for the future of the world. I think about how much my head is hurting. For one idle moment I think about the searing pain that is currently scuttling across my face and ripping my skull apart and the brick drops. It drops in line with the thousands of other bricks, exactly in the place I intended it. I exhale.

I carry myself through the air and return to my quarters. I look out the window one more time and see the base of my pyramid, now one piece closer to realisation. I let myself drift onto my bed and let my eyes close. I think about tomorrow’s brick. I think about the hundreds of thousands of other bricks that will need to be created, pushed and positioned in their perfect place. I think about how much longer I have to do this. I think about how I shouldn’t think about that right now. I close my eyes.

—

I, myself being Ken Agar Jr. of the Agar Corporation, rise. I reach behind my head. I remove the brainwave scanner from my head. I remove the VR headset from my face. The room is pitch black. I wave a hand and the lights turn on. It is blinding. For a few minutes all I can see is a series of shapes vibrating in front of my eyes.

When my sight is restored I wander to the table and chair on the other side of the room and remove the steel cover from my breakfast. A beetle falls out from under my pyjamas. It scuttles up my body; across my arm, across the steel cover and then drops on top of my breakfast. I recoil. I stare at it. I focus on the beetle and think about the Ibis. I think about the power that I will one day hold over the world. That I will one day hold over nature itself.

The beetle gesticulates vulgarly on my food. I slam the metal cover over the plate. I remind myself to get the exterminator called back in. I put on the clothes laid out on the ottoman. I wander to the door.

I walk downstairs. I look out to the massive room of computers. On each one a person is furiously typing, fixated on their screen. I step onto the floor and wander between the computers. On some of them are graphs and blinking charts, on some of them are lines of computer code, on some of them are giant sandstone bricks and wireframe facsimiles of my pyramid.

I see that a few of the desks are empty. I look around. A group of people are huddled around a manager’s desk. Some of them have their heads in their hands, others have their hands on other people’s shoulders. I turn to the person behind the manager’s desk.

“What is going on?” I ask the person behind the manager’s desk.
“It’s Penelope. One of our modellers,” the person behind the manager’s desk says. “She passed away over the weekend. We heard from her sister this morning.”
“I see.” I look out to the vast desert of computers. “You should get a job listing up before lunch,” I tell the person behind the manager’s desk and walk onwards. I walk through the massive room of computers and leave.

I arrive at my desk and sit down. I hold a 3D printed model of an ibis which some of the managers had made for me last December. I stroke its beak as I look at a computer screen. On the computer screen is my pyramid. Unfinished but already a marvel. I think about how much more marvellous it will be when it is finished. I think about my brainwaves encoded into every brick. I think about my essence encoded into every crease. I think about how, once my body fails me, and my brain emits its final electrical breath, the final brick will be placed over the pyramid’s entrance and I will join the rest of the gods for eternity. I think about how I will look down on the world and smile. A laugh escapes my lips.