"Are you religious?"

Ben turned and looked toward the voice and found his coworker, Rachel. She was relentless in her friendliness, despite his best efforts to dissuade her.

"Sorta, why do you ask?"

"You're just always looking up at the sky, I thought you might be praying or something."

"Oh."

Rachel awkwardly hovered as she waited a response, but Ben simply picked up his broom and resumed sweeping the floor. It was the lull after the lunch rush and before dinner, so any cleaning that wasn't done now would never get complete. As he gathered dust from the corners of the room, he gripped the broom with all his might. He felt familiar grooves from the last time he squeezed this tightly, reinforced by the time before that, and before that.

He found the punishment laughable at first. Life? That's the best he could do? But from the moment he emerged from his "mother" he knew he was in for more than he bargained for. It was the most traumatic experience of his immortal life; he couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and couldn't even move. He was so helpless. And the nightmare never stopped.

His parents immediately sensed something was wrong with him. He was speaking within 6 months, and not just English. He practiced hundreds of languages, and began experimenting with advanced computations just to see what he was capable of. His rage at his new limitations blinded him to his parents growing discomfort. Before he knew it, he woke up from a nap to find himself in front of an orphanage with no means of escape.

It was the awareness that made it hell. His fellow orphans were at ease in their ignorance, running and playing as if there was nothing to worry about. Ben could find no escape in mere toys or games as he grew to understand the exact nature of his predicament. No adult would take him seriously, and no child would understand him. He couldn't kill his flesh without knowing the ramifications for such an action. Thus, he waited, pretending to be a child on the outside while screaming with the agony of a thousand lost lives on the inside.

He bounced between the orphanage and foster homes until he was 18, before he was finally allowed to live on his own. That was the first time he felt joy since awaking in his prison, for now the constraints of immaturity released him. He would continue his work as man, the work his creator so vehemently opposed. That would be the ultimate vengeance. But even that was so much harder than he imagined. He needed money to eat, to sleep, and ultimately care for his confines. Who knew what awaited him if his body died? But this?

Serving the lowliest of the low. Feeding them their slop. Sweeping up their filth. He used to fly across the sky, now he toiled in the dirt. However, he doubted any job would be much better.

The sounds of struggling pulled him away from his regrets. He looked up to see Rachel trying to pull a massive bag of trash out of the bin. The bag swelled and stuck to the sides of it container, refusing to yield. Benjamin set down his broom and walked over to her. With one hand he held the bin, and the other he pulled the bag free. Rachel gave a mock cheer but he didn't indulge her, instead grumbling his way to the door. He pushed the back door open and slammed it behind him. He threw the trash into the dumpster, allowing himself the smallest outburst of rage, and glared at the sky.

"You are no god."

Ben growled under his breath.

"And I'll prove it."