Tempokai

  This is LockPickingLawyerGod's personal journal. It will be posted on the Internet for all to read, so I am writing it in a way that can't possibly identify me personally or my clients.

  I am a wyer, also a lockpicker, also a Tribunal God, and probably other things besides; this account may not reflect those identities as well as they should. Please bear with any inaccuracies you find here—my memory of events tends toward the selective and often misleading when there are more interesting stories avaible.

  It all started when a god of a peaceful world was killed in his realm... by an intruder who had gotten past his security systems without being detected (by him). This made no sense at first: how could someone get into the god's private chambers undetected?

  This enraged the followers, and they demanded investigation. The god in question refused to cooperate fully until he felt confident that nothing else would happen—and then only after some threats were issued from above. He offered up two possibilities for what happened: either one of his own servants committed murder against their master out of jealousy over the position, or another god did something underhanded while impersonating one of theirs. Both expnations seemed unlikely.

  The investigators turned next to me. My client was a minor goddess who didn't have much power but was very good at maniputing others' emotions and getting people to do her bidding. I, of course, already picked her lock once before she ever approached me about anything like this. She cimed innocence because of these connections. Her fellow gods agreed that she might know where the real murderer was hiding, if anyone knew, which meant that they needed to hire a locksmithing deity instead.

  But I'm a wyer first, lockpicker second, and a god third. So I decided to take both cases simultaneously. First, I'd pick every lock in sight just to see whether it was possible to sneak around them. Second, we would investigate further. If my hypothesis proved correct, our work would end soon enough anyway.

  I, with the help of the Tribunal Gods, set out to find the truth. We found evidence that suggested multiple intrusions through several different doors and windows, none of which could have been done without detection. But there was no sign of forced entry anywhere except inside the room where my client said the killing took pce. Which was strange, as if someone had broken down the door behind the victim himself rather than going in through it. And yet, there was still no trace of the killer among us humans.

  My client continued to insist that she wasn't involved. She found more believable alibi witnesses, including an old friend who swore he saw her elsewhere during the time of death. More importantly, however, she convinced everyone that I should continue working on the case even though I hadn't solved it. It was good, solid advice from a legal perspective.

  So I began investigating again. I went back to the scene of the crime, examined everything thoroughly, and tried to come up with new theories. Then I asked for volunteers to go with me to try breaking in themselves. They were demigods, mostly, with the occasional human thrown in. Most of them failed spectacurly at picking any of the locks I showed them. One managed to break open three in less than ten minutes using brute force alone, although he broke the fourth one almost immediately afterwards trying to pick it with his bare hands. They all failed to replicate the breaking in method used by the actual perpetrator, despite repeated attempts. In fact, no one succeeded in doing anything useful at all.

  In the meantime, my client was becoming increasingly worried that I wouldn't solve the mystery. She sent messages pleading for me to hurry up and stop wasting my time, since she feared that she couldn't hold off the angry mob forever. The followers of now dead god kept threatening violence unless the matter was resolved quickly. Meanwhile, the rest of the gods grew impatient, too, and began making veiled suggestions about my incompetence. Some of them wondered aloud why I hadn't figured out how the intruder got in yet.

  The truth is... I already found the culprit. Or rather, I've known all along who the killer really was. It has taken me far longer to convince myself that I shouldn't turn him over to justice simply because he confessed. There must be more to this story than meets the eye. But as, I almost failed. At least twice, I came close to giving in to temptation, and revealing the guilty party. Thankfully, each time I thought better of it and backed away. Still, the pressure became unbearable, and finally I cracked.

  I showed myself how to do the trick the intruder had performed, then gave instructions on exactly how he should perform it as well. When he followed my directions, the lock clicked open. That's when I realized what had been bothering me all along: the keyhole was slightly offset from the centerline of the door. Not enough to cause problems normally, but it definitely prevented the same sort of opening mechanism from fitting properly. Only a professional locksmith could have noticed such a small detail, especially one whose mind works differently than mine does.

  And the Tribunal was pleased! Finally, they had proof that I could figure out the mystery. The crowd outside cheered wildly upon hearing the news. I told them that I was innocent of any wrongdoing, and promised to reveal the true culprit ter. Which I never did, because the followers have resurrected their fallen god.

  Afterwards, I wrote down this account in order to keep track of my thoughts. I hope that someday someone will read it and learn from my mistakes. For now, however, I feel compelled to tell my tale publicly, lest history repeat itself.

  Morale of the story: don't trust your clients. Ever. Even ones you're supposed to love. Especially those.

  ?

  This is LockPickingLawyerGod's personal journal. It will be posted on the Internet for all to read, so I am writing it in a way that can't possibly identify me personally or my clients.

  I am a wyer, also a lockpicker, also a Tribunal God, and probably other things besides; this account may not reflect those identities as well as they should. Please bear with any inaccuracies you find here—my memory of events tends toward the selective and often misleading when there are more interesting stories avaible.

  It all started... when I tried to lockpick every lock in the universe. From there, it spiraled downward rapidly.

  There are many reasons why I wanted to do this. As a god, I tend to spend most of my time in courtrooms, arguing with various deities and mortals alike; listening their bu-, sorry, arguments. While I enjoy my job immensely, it gets boring after awhile. Sometimes, I wish I had more options for entertainment. And so I decided to explore the possibility of creating my own.

  First, I looked around for inspiration. I was already a lockpicking god, after all, so it seemed reasonable to start there. I created several different types of locks, some of which worked quite nicely. Others, not so much. But I enjoyed the challenge nonetheless and eventually discovered ways to make them all function properly within their constraints.

  My most creative lock was designed to look like a simple wooden box with four metal bars attached across its top edge. Anyone could open it by pulling apart the middle bar, then rotating the remaining three ninety degrees counter-clockwise until they touched the bottom bar. But there's catch: the rotation had to be perfectly timed to match the beat of the music pying nearby, otherwise the mechanism would fail. Once unlocked, the box could be opened again easily by turning the opposite direction.

  All of these creations were fun, but ultimately pointless. So the second option was obvious: lockpick every lock in the universe. With luck, perhaps I could discover something worthwhile. Perhaps I could unlock the secrets of immortality, or create a new form of life entirely. Maybe I would stumble onto something truly amazing.

  Or maybe I would die. Which is unlikely, given the fact I have the backing of the Tribunal, plus I've already survived worse. Besides, I always have my backup pn ready in case of emergency: I'll just steal something worth millions of divine crystals and leave to the parallel universe. No one will miss whatever valuable item I manage to snag, because they remember that I exist solely for their benefit. Why waste time worrying about a petty theft?

  As you can imagine, this idea appealed greatly. I spent months designing mechanisms to pick every lock in existence and put together a team of experts capable of performing the task. My best friend, BosnianGodBIll, would lead our efforts. He's a strong believer in teamwork, and loves coming up with innovative ideas—which makes him perfect for this kind of project. Plus, he knows his stuff, so I expect great things from him.

  We created the most divine lockpicking tool imaginable: an eight foot long stick covered with tiny spikes arranged in rows down its length. Each spike had a hook at one end and a pointy bit at the other. All you had to do was reach out and touch the target lock, then use the hooked side to pry it open. It was a genius of BosnianGodBIll, and I think he deserves credit for inventing it. Although he insisted it was my idea, which I believe is completely unfair considering that he doesn't know how to pick locks.

  Once the tools were complete, we recruited dozens of other gods to join our effort. It was easy, given I had... clients, lets say, who wanted to hire us specifically. After all, my services are extremely expensive and hard to come by. They weren't interested in the money, per se, but rather the chance to prove their superiority over lesser beings. Multiverse is a cruel pce, filled with jealous gods who hate me simply because I am more powerful than they are. This is understandable, but unfortunate nonetheless.

  Our goal was ambitious. We pnned to visit every pnet in the multiverse, searching for locked doors, chests, ancient mechanisms, secret passageways, hidden rooms, and any other potential targets we could find. Our first destination was Earth, the home world of humanity, where we expected to encounter the greatest number of locks.

  Earth turned out to be surprisingly uninteresting. I was from Earth, and left it long ago, so it felt odd to return to a pce where I had nothing to do. Other members of the expedition compined constantly about being bored while waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Eventually, they grew restless and decided to travel farther into space.

  Eventually, we arrived to another world, the Earthling would call it a fantasy world, full of magic creatures and magical items. There were plenty of locks there, too, although they didn't seem particurly special. But there was one mechanism that stood out above all others: a golden box shaped like an hourgss. Inside it was a single white gemstone. It was beautiful, but it was also incredibly heavy, which meant only someone with superhuman strength could lift it. It was connected to a maze, and required solving before anyone could move forward. A few people tried, but nobody succeeded. I was tempted to give it a shot, but the god of this world came and shooed us away, saying that we were interfering with his experiment. Whatever that means.

  Next up was an alien pnet inhabited by giant insects. Their homes were built primarily out of wood and stone, so there were plenty of opportunities for lockpicking. Unfortunately, I'm allergic to bugs, so I stayed behind to watch the proceedings instead. My fellow colleague BosnianGodBill took charge of the mission. His insect friends helped him out, providing information about the local architecture and pointing out possible hiding pces for traps. Together, they picked twenty five thousand locks in under two hours without losing a single person. They were tired, sweaty, and hungry afterward, but they'd done their jobs admirably.

  They moved on next, arriving at the moon of a gas giant orbiting a distant star. Here, they encountered a strange device resembling an upside-down pyramid with a handle sticking out of the base. A sci-fi horror movie pyed inside it, featuring a man dressed in bck carrying a rge sword and fighting monsters. The whole thing ended abruptly when the hero stabbed himself through the heart and died.

  BosnianGodBill said the machine belonged to a race called "the Ancients", who lived on the surface thousands of years ago. Apparently, he managed to communicate with them using a combination of hand gestures and telepathy, and convinced them to share some knowledge with us. What an admirable fellow he is! Anyway, apparently this particur artifact served as a gate to another dimension. The Ancient's leader expined that this wasn't the first time humans used it, and warned them against doing so ever again.

  So we used the shared subspace to store the contents of the pyramid safely in our minds, then returned to normal space. The aliens watched us depart, then went back to work building their cities.

  The following day, we visited yet another pnet full of immortal demons living in underground caverns. These guys were tough as hell, and none of my colleagues managed to crack even one of their locks. Some of the locals attacked us, trying to defend themselves from the intruders, but we defeated them easily. The ultimate lockpick was not ultimate, so we with the demons spent days to make "Ultimate Lockpicker v2" (as BosnianGodBill named it). We improved its design considerably, adding several features that made it easier to use. Then, armed with our new creation, we set off once more for the underworld. This time, no one got hurt.

  Finally, after weeks of traveling through countless worlds, we reached a familiar pce: the city of Asgard. Home of Odin, Thor, Loki, and the rest of the Norse pantheon. I personally lockpicked the lock from the Yygdrassil tree and entered the hallowed halls. Everyone else followed suit, eager to see what wonders awaited them.

  Inside, I saw the throne room of Odin. On the ground sat a rge pile of gold coins, each one representing an entire year's worth of human suffering. Or a minor god's day's worth of income. Either way, it was impressive. In front of it y a golden box containing a small red jewel. I approached it cautiously, aware of the danger of triggering any trap. Thankfully, nothing happened.

  I lifted the lid slowly, revealing the prize within. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I realized my dream was finally fulfilled: I was able to solve the mystery of eternity!

  But wait. Something was wrong. The mystery's answer wasn't right. I had an answer, yes, but it didn't feel correct. Not exactly. More like... incomplete. Like there was more to it, if only I knew how to interpret it correctly. I closed my eyes, hoping to get some insight into this problem. In my mind, countless ws and lockpicking techniques fshed by like lightning bolts. Suddenly, everything became clear. I understood why the puzzle failed to provide an adequate solution. I also figured out how to fix it, and reattached the jewel to the box.

  Then, I locked it again and stepped back.

  Odin raised his eyebrows and asked, "What did you do?"

  I smiled confidently. "Nothing. Just fixed your mistake."

  He frowned skeptically. "That's impossible! 42 is an answer! You must have found the real key!"

  "No," I replied. "42 isn't a valid code anymore."

  His mouth fell agape, unable to process such an unexpected development. I nudged my fellow gods aside and grabbed the box, then pced it carefully on a table before closing the door and returning to normal space.