Omphalos theory fan fiction

The “Omphalos hypothesis” discussed in the previous post is horrifying as theology. The idea that the Creator is also the Great Deceiver suggests some rather appalling aspects of the character of God.

But it does make for fertile ground for some potentially fascinating, or at least amusing, storytelling.

Think again of that 28,000-year-old Australian rock art or of the 30,000-year-old paintings in the Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc cave in France. Now, for the sake of our story, let’s accept the premises of the Omphalos hypothesis, of young-earth creationism, and of the illiteralistic reading of Genesis they both seek to defend.

That would mean that as Adam and Eve and the still-legged serpent walked in Eden, somewhere in antediluvian Mesopotamia, there already existed paintings — human paintings — in Australia and France. And those already-existing paintings already appeared to be many thousands of years old.

Now imagine, a few generations later, after the flood, after the tower of Babel, when the descendants of Japheth — “scattered abroad over the face of the earth” from the plains of Shinar. They head West, arriving in Europe as the first humans ever to set foot in this strange new land. The first humans ever there since the creation of the world. What would it mean to them to find there, waiting for them, human paintings thousands of years old?

There’s some kind of Omphalos-meets-Prometheus story there. Some kind of weird mash-up of Ken Ham and Erich von Däniken.

Or go back further, to Cain and Abel — back when both brothers were still alive and Cain had not yet become a marked man

Plowing in his fields one day, Cain found something. That night, he showed it to his brother.

“I think it’s a knife,” he said. “A knife made of stone. And it seems … it doesn’t make any sense, but it seems like it’s thousands of years old.”

Abel examined it closely. He had never seen anything so old. It seemed even older than their father. But that was impossible, nothing was older than their father.

“It’s Natufian,” Abel heard himself say.

“Natufi-what? What does that mean?”

“I … I don’t know. That word just kind of came to me. …”

“We should go back,” Cain said. “Tomorrow. We’ll go back and dig where I found this. Maybe there’s more.”

OK, your turn.

 

  • Will Hennessy

    (SPOILER ALERT! NO STORY FOLLOWS HERE!)

    First of all, listening to Donovan a lot lately. Particularly the song “Atlantis.” In short, bonus points for use of the word ‘antediluvian.’

    Second, I’m picturing Cain and Abel as the Venture Brothers in your scene there. I don’t know why.

    That is all.

  • http://stealingcommas.blogspot.com/ chris the cynic

    Since I like angels.  An angel walks into a cave, sees another angel, this happens:

    “Eoniel, what are you doing?”
    “I’m painting.”

    “Why?”

    “God said make the place look old.”

    “The rocks!  He said make the rocks look old. ”

    “Yeah, and what makes something look older than some aged graffiti?”

    “That’s not what He meant.”

    “Says who?”

    “Says… listen, what do you think people are going to think when they find these paintings?  They’re going to be confused and jump to all the wrong conclusions and … and you’re ruining everything!”
    “If you don’t like my art you could have  just said so.”

    “IT’S NOT ABOUT THE STUPID ART!”

    (Hurt:) “You think it’s stupid?”

    “Look, I didn’t mean that, I just meant that… don’t look at me like that.  No crying, that’s an order.  Come on, please.” *pause* “They’re very nice animals, really, but we shouldn’t be making it look like other people were here before the real ones.”

    “So you think my art is…”
    (Trying to sound sincere:) “It’s great.  Really nice.  I’m sure God would think so too, but you shouldn’t be doing it here.  We don’t want to make it seem like humans have already been here.”

    “Well you should tell Techniel, he’s been making spear-points and such.”

    “Seriously?”

    *nods*

    *sighs* *facepalms* *composes self* (actually sincere:) “I really do like the horses by the way.”

    “Thanks!”  *pause* “Oh, you probably want to know that I think some of the others are building ruins to resemble the civilizations from their roleplaying groups.”

    “Oh for the love of …”

  • http://newpillowbook.wordpress.com/2012/05/11/friday-fictioneers-lunacy/ esmerelda_ogg

    Plowing in his fields one day, Cain found something. That night, he showed it to his brother.
    “I
    think it’s a knife,” he said. “A knife made of stone. And it seems … it
    doesn’t make any sense, but it seems like it’s thousands of years old.”
    Abel examined it closely. He had never seen anything so old. It seemed even older than their father. But that was impossible, nothing was older than their father.
    “It’s Natufian,” Abel heard himself say.
    “Natufi-what? What does that mean?”
    “I … I don’t know. That word just kind of came to me. …”
    “We should go back,” Cain said. “Tomorrow. We’ll go back and dig where I found this. Maybe there’s more.”

    “No,” Abel said.

    “No? Why not? Don’t you think it’s interesting?”

    “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. But he wouldn’t like it.”

    “He who? Dad? We don’t have to tell him, do we? Not yet, anyway.”

    “Not Dad…him. You know.”

    Cain looked at Abel, frowning. “What? You’re worried about…him? Why should he care what we do?” He thought some more. “Besides, if it’s older than Dad, he must have put it here. Playing games with us or something. I bet he’d get a kick out of watching us try to solve his little puzzle.”

    “No!” Abel was horrified. “You idiot, you’ll get us in trouble. Again.” Abel grabbed the stone knife and lunged at his brother. Cain dodged, yelling for help. But there was no one in the world to help except his mother and father, and at their age they liked to take a long nap after lunch.

    Abel slashed at him again. Cain wrestled with his brother. Somehow he got the knife away from him.

    And Cain slew Abel.

  • Tricksterson

    The painting angel wouldn’t be named Raziel aka The Stupidest Angel would he?

  • http://stealingcommas.blogspot.com/ chris the cynic

    I don’t have time now, and I’m half asleep, but I suddenly want it to the the case that Cain and Abel faked Abel’s death so that Abel could travel the world investigating these anomalies without the watchful eyes of parents, angels, or God upon him.  Where he got Indiana Jones’ hat I don’t know, but he did.

    It was the blood of Abel that cried out to God, so they just had to let some blood out, it was difficult, inventing medicine on the spot to make sure that the blood loss wasn’t fatal, but Cain and Abel were up to the task (barely) and the plan went off without a hitch.  Unless you count Cain getting cursed, but given what Abel went through* Cain figures he got the easier job.

    And the tempting thing is for them to eventually realize that they’re literary characters in an inconsistent work and, in their final triumph, escape the the fiction into the real world.

    -

    *  Medicine in the era of the second generation, especially when improvised by people trying to make it appear that the person receiving the medicine doesn’t exist, was not, on the whole, good.

  • Jessica_R

    He comes to this place every month. The others all know he goes but pretend they do not. He comes with a lamp for light and with food he does not eat. He comes just as the sun is setting. 

    He walks inside the cave holding his lamp before him. He walks and walks until he reaches the chamber. The chamber with the animals on the walls. When he reaches this chamber he sits. He sits and watches. 

    The lamp light casts flickering light on the wall making the animals seem to writhe and dance and jump. He watches the figures hoping to find an answer, but an answer will not come. 

    He thinks of that boat The Voice told him to build. He thinks of all the animals snorting and barking and squawking in their stalls. None of those animals are on this wall. He watches the wall some more. 

    His lamp flickers, almost out. It is time to go. He picks up the lamp and walks out. The first rays of morning are touching the horizon. He walks toward the sun. But his heart is heavy. Ever since finding this place even the noonday sun has carried the cool darkness of that cave. 

  • Loki100

    And on the seventh day, God rested. And by rested, we mean he took up some hobbies. He did a little painting here, a little pottery there, a little architecture somewhere else.

    And when he was finished, he looked at what he had done and realized it would seem very confusing. But it was the day of rest, not the day bragging, so he couldn’t label his art as clearly “God did it.”

    After that he took a long nap and then made a bunch of faces on Mars.

  • http://outshine-the-sun.blogspot.com/ Andrew G.

    “End Nuclear Testing Now”

    (if I may be permitted an obscure Pratchett reference :-)

  • glendanowakowsk

    She ducked into the cave, panting, her long black hair whirling wildly about her head.  “All I want is to live on my own, with peace and dignity.  Is that really too much to ask?”

    Apparently it was, because every place she had tried to settle down, she was inevitably driven out by those smug, holier-than-thou types who called her a demon and worse, not realizing that their insults and pursuits would only serve to drive her into the arms of their Enemy.

    She peeked furtively out of the mouth of the cave.  She didn’t see her tormentors, but decided to wait a bit before going on her way.  While searching the cave for any animals that may have been home, she spotted the drawings on the wall of the cave.  Stick figures of men hunting some kind of beast.

    “There are no hunters here,” she thought, “only herdsmen.”  She looked more closely at the drawings.  They were faded, looked old.  “Someone was here before us?  But we were supposed to be the first!   I wonder what Yahweh is playing at.”

    She didn’t have time to ponder that, though.  Night was falling, and she felt more comfortable traveling in the dark.  She looked again at the stick men, and picked up an ochre stone lying on the cave floor.

    “Eff the patriarchy!” said Lilith as she drew long hair and breasts on two of the stick figures.

  • http://schweinsty.livejournal.com/ schweinsty

    And on the eighth day, God bores of Earth and hitches a ride back to Asgard on his eight-legged son.

    “It’s been such fun,” he says when he regales the hall with stories of the humans’ antics.

    “Did you learn nothing from your sojourn with the dwarves?” Idunn waves vaguely at his lips in between bites of her fourth apple of the night.

    [for once, though, he can't find it in his heart to razz her as to where she keeps her seemingly endless supply; the woman's passion for the crunchy fruit gave him a marvelous idea when he was building the first terrarium - though he'd gone for a pomegranate, in that case]

    Loki grins quietly to himself and runs a hand through his hair as chatter at the table turns elsewhere. Yes, it was fun, but it will only keep the little beings baffled for a time. Next time he’ll have to plant something a little more obvious. Crop circles? Little green men?

    …He’ll think of something.

  • Tom

    In all seriousness though – if god made man in his own image then all this stuff is not only plausable… but inevitable.

    Who here, if given the task of making a world with people on it, wouldn’t mess with them a bit (hehe… wait till they see these giant lizard overlord bones!).

    Parents only have responsibilities for helping form the mind of ONE HUMAN and they still can’t resist messing with us (Santa Claus anyone?)

    Hence me believing in Voleman (yes – he’s half man half vole… he saved me and my sister from an island when the tide came in by blowing his whistle and making a bridge of voles) until a worryingly late age – and the shock me and my sister had as teenagers on seeing a bushbaby on TV (having previously thought they were something my dad had made up)… 

    Ok…  Maybe some parents more than others.

  • Ima Pseudonym

     The Mark was on him, and all of nature was against him.

    Cain walked east through the night.  IN his mind’s eye, he saw the death over and over again, Abel falling to the ground clutching at the impossibly ancient knife buried in his guts.  He could see nothing else, hear nothing else.

    A hungry lion saw him, considered taking him, and then thought better of it.  Something about the two-legs was *wrong* on a level that the great cat did not understand.  It smelled wrong, it sounded wrong, everything about it screamed “WRONG” at every possible level.  Wrong things rarely led anywhere good.  Wrong things often got one killed.  The drought had dragged on for many months now, and prey was hard to come by, but the lion decided to take its chances elsewhere.  The jackals and the wildcats also chose to give him a wide berth, and for the same reason.  

    Presently, the dawn came, and when awareness came, he found himself by the side of a rutted road, an impossible road. He stared at it with dull confusion, the sight slowly sinking through his numb despair.  None of his brothers and sisters had built anything here yet, this far out. He could count them–he knew the names of all the people of the world and knew them all on sight.  None of them had built this.     

    The bleating of goats and the sound of pots banging came to his ears, and he turned to see a group of (impossible) people coming over a hill in the distance down the (impossible) road in his general direction.  He stared at them, numb, as they came closer, and finally, after an eternity, they were next to him.  

    They stared at one another.  

    “We’re headed for Eridu, if you want a ride,” the caravan master finally said, breaking the silence.  “You look stout.  You can help us watch for bandits. We can pay you a few bits and give you some food.”  

    And so Cain joined the impossible caravan. 

  • Indifferentchildren

    Antedeluvian Mesopotamia didn’t just contain human paintings; it contained living humans:

    http://www.theonion.com/articles/sumerians-look-on-in-confusion-as-god-creates-worl,2879/

  • http://mordicai.livejournal.com Mordicai

    David looked at his sheep.  & then at the flock of wild sheep he’d stumbled across.  He thought back to the sheep from previous years, sheep he’d looked after, sheep he’d known.  “Black sheep mates with white sheep…white sheep.  Two white sheep, white sheep.  Two black sheep…black sheep?”  He sat on a stump, holding a rock & his sling lest any lions come upon him as he thought.  “So, the sheep– black or white, curly horns or straight, long snout or short– inherit the traits of their sire & dam, but some types are dominant over the others.  Huh.”  He wondered privately what sheep were like before these sheep, before their parents, before their grand-grand-parents.  Were they even like the sheep he knew?  Maybe they were even like camels, & the ones with shorter neck had mated with shorter necked ones until they became sheep…

  • Tom

    “Right” said God, putting the finishing touches on the last few sets of fossil records, “Everything seems to be in place… An almost perfect collection of fake evidence of evolution (with just enough gaps to make it realistic).  This should be perfect for fooling them into thinking evolution is real – BUT WOE BETIDE THEM IF THEY DO!!  FOR I SHALL CAST THEM DOWN INTO HELL!!!”  He smiled to himself.  He’d just given himself an idea for a ridiculously convoluted ‘stop hitting yourself’ scheme involving fruit and a snake

  • Matri

    “Thanks!”  *pause* “Oh, you probably want to know that I think some
    of the others are building ruins to resemble the civilizations from
    their roleplaying groups.”

    “Oh for the love of …”

    *spittakes* Dagnabbit! Look what you made me do!

  • Matri

    Plowing in his fields one day, Cain found something. That night, he showed it to his brother.

    “I
    think it’s a knife,” he said. “A knife made of stone. And it seems … it
    doesn’t make any sense, but it seems like it’s thousands of years old.”

    Abel examined it closely. He had never seen anything so old. It seemed even older than their father. But that was impossible, nothing was older than their father.

    “It’s Natufian,” Abel heard himself say.

    “Natufi-what? What does that mean?”

    “I … I don’t know. That word just kind of came to me. …”

    “We should go back,” Cain said. “Tomorrow. We’ll go back and dig where I found this. Maybe there’s more.”

    “Are you sure they can’t see us?”

    “Will you stop worrying? They never leave that gorge and besides, at this distance the camouflage will ensure they can’t pick us out even with that loud shirt you insisted on wearing today.”

    “Hey, this happens to be a very comfortable shirt I’ll have you know. I’m still a little incredulous that they can’t hear the interstate over the next hill.”

    “Well why did you have to go down there anyway? You almost blew the whole experiment. You may have just contaminated it anyway. What were you thinking, leaving behind your brand new ceramic knife?”

    “Well, I was hungry. I thought I could grab a fruit or something when he startled me and-”

    HOLY S-! Did you see that??

    “What?! What happened?”

    “One of them just stabbed the other! Forget this man, let’s get out of here!”

    “But our report…”

    “It was your knife, you get to tell the boss.”

  • http://pulse.yahoo.com/_M3G5DR3BA75FV4VGJ23MPNJFHI Andrew

    Not fan fiction, exactly, but starting with thinking about Richard Land’s defense of “God’s Definition of Marriage” (heard on NPR this morning) I accidentally bumped into one of the reasons that Creationism might be important for some Christians.  In brief, since the Bible doesn’t *define* marriage, one way to insist on the M+F marriage as God’s Chosen Way is to argue that marriage existed before the world was created, and that “Adam and Eve” was merely the first instantiation of God’s Chosen Form of Marriage.  Anyway, for the longer, and for most, much less interesting trip to that, among other conclusions, lookie here:  http://lawschoolissoover.wordpress.com/2012/06/21/gods-definition-of-marriage-a-meditation-on-chickens-and-eggs/

  • Dash1

    As they’re out working without supervision at the time of The Conversation According to Fred, Cain and Abel would probably have been in their teens. So Abel’s thought

    But that was impossible, nothing was older than their father.

    . . . yeah, that’s a teenager, all right.

  • Dash1

     Not really chicken/egg. In fact, we’ve got pretty good information on this one.

     As far as I can trace back in the Book of Common Prayer, and I’m sure someone familiar with the liturgies of various older churches can take it further, marriage is referred to as “an honourable estate,
    instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency.” Indeed, as far back as the church has concerned itself with marriage (which is only about 1,000 years, I think–but I yield to anyone better historical info), the Adam/Eve pairing has been considered the prototype of marriage.

    Fundamentalists were objecting to evolution well before gays were a blip on the Christian cultural radar (think Scopes Trial).

    An explanation that better fits the facts is this:

    (a)  fundagelicals are already invested in a particular understanding of how the earth and humanity came to be–in fact, that’s a significant part of how and why the modern Fundamentalist movement developed;
    (b) these are folks who don’t like change, particularly liberalizing change;
    (c) they have a generally authoritarian mindset, with all that that entails;
    (d) they have tended over time to reduce pretty much all sin to some kind of sexual behavior.

    Adam-and-Eve-as-first-married-couple is a convenient bludgeon to hit gays with.

    See (a). I pretty much guarantee that if somehow fundagelicals could be induced to accept marriage equality (not gonna happen, but work with me here), they’d still be insisting on a young earth. Young Earth Creationism was a big deal first.

  • Sagrav

    “And Cain slew Abel.”

    Cain stood there shaking over his brother’s lifeless body.  A tall, domineering figure with flaming red hair appears out of nowhere with a loud *pop*.

    “No! Lord, forgive me!  It… it was an accident!  Please, no more curses!  Wait… who are you?” said Cain.

    “Huh?  Oh.  Call me Ares, mortal.  Say, have you seen a knife around here?  Dionysus threw a party around these parts about, oh, ten or twenty thousand years ago.  I got a little wasted, and dropped one of my knives around here.  It’s kind of a crude one, but its got sentimental value, you know?  Ah!”

    Ares sees the knife lying next to Abel’s mutilated body and scoops it up.

    “Good to see the old girl can still be put to good use!  Say, I don’t recognize you as one of our subjects.  Who’s your master, kid?”

    “Y-Yahweh… sir.”

    “HAHAHAHA!  What?!  Oh, you’re fucked kid!  Well, no matter.  Swing by mount Olympus when you get a chance, I could use a murderous young go-getter like you.  That is, if Yahweh doesn’t give you an eternal magma enema when he catches you.  Oh well, ta ta!”

    And with another loud *pop*, Ares is gone.

  • Magic_Cracker

    Cain had been wandering a long time east of Eden, through the land of Nod, when he saw it — right there on the beach …
    “You maniacs!” he screamed, “You blew it up! Damn you! God damn you all to hell!”

  • LouisDoench

     My dad was like that as well, always populating the world with fanciful creatures like Muggos and Maggots and Grommets… I was floored when i discovered that Grommet was a real world thing.

  • Caravelle

    “I think it’s a knife,” he said. “A knife
    made of stone. And it seems … it doesn’t make any sense, but it seems
    like it’s thousands of years old.”
    Abel examined it closely. He had never seen anything so old. It seemed even older than their father. But that was impossible, nothing was older than their father.

    “You know what this means, don’t you ?” said Abel.
    “Shhhhhh !” said Cain.
    “There has to have been…”
    “Shut up RIGHT NOW !”
    “But why wouldn’t He tell us about it ? And where are they now ? And wouldn’t that mean the world wasn’t -”

    He didn’t continue because Cain had stabbed the knife deep in his chest.

    “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

    Before carrying his brother’s dead body back to his parents Cain threw the knife away as far as he could. He hadn’t meant to kill him, maybe hadn’t quite realized how deadly knives are yet. What he did know was that he couldn’t make his parents’ mistake. He didn’t like humans to know too much.

    And apparently his parents hadn’t been the first to find that out.

  • Tricksterson

    And a very clever dog as well.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=30319652 Tim Lehnerer

    He returns again to the caves, knowing deep in his heart that he’d rather be anywere else. But the pictures…they have a hold on him. He looks at them, stomach twisting with nausea. The paints are faded with age, which is impossible. He knows his father is the oldest man in the world, and the cave drawings look centuries older than Adam. The flickering torchlight makes them seem to move out of the corner of his eye. Squamous and rugose, and obscene. They look *wrong*. They look as if they’re reaching for him. They look as if they’ve already gotten him. They look as if they’re waiting. The pigments are black and a rusty, dark red.

    He raises the sharp chunk of flint and scrapes at the artwork. In the shifting light of the torch the paintings look as if they flinch from the knife. The air is perfectly still and quiet, and he hears the faint noise of surf from the ocean, so far away and yet still present in the cave.

    He returns to his task. The rest of humanity must never know of the elder things that wait in the hidden places. He turns again to the crude drawing and scrapes away another tentacle from its face.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=507398586 Tim Fargus

     

    Plowing in his fields one day, Cain found something. That night, he showed it to his brother.

    “I
    think it’s a knife,” he said. “A knife made of stone. And it seems … it
    doesn’t make any sense, but it seems like it’s thousands of years old.”

    Abel examined it closely. He had never seen anything so old. It seemed even older than their father. But that was impossible, nothing was older than their father.

    “It’s Natufian,” Abel heard himself say.

    “Natufi-what? What does that mean?”

    “I … I don’t know. That word just kind of came to me. …”

    “We should go back,” Cain said. “Tomorrow. We’ll go back and dig where I found this. Maybe there’s more.”

    The next day Cain went alone. He dug near where he had found the knife, and by the end of the day he had found a couple of broken pieces of pottery, an axe head, and, a few pieces of parchment covered with dense writing.

    When Cain went home, he and Abel began to read the parchment together. They went slowly, reading only a little bit every few days.

    “It’s a story!” said Abel. “A story about two brothers, just like us! A farmer and a shepherd, just like you and me.” Cain smiled and nodded, happy to share in his discovery with his brother.

    In the following days, Cain’s fields overflowed with bounty, but many of Abel’s flock sickened and died. Abel bore his ill fortune with a smile, and Cain was happy to share all he had with his brother.

    At home they read the the next part of the parchment’s story.

    “Look,” Abel said, “The shepherd here suffered bad luck, just like me! But he got jealous of his brother because of it, and I’d never be jealous of you, Cain.” Abel smiled, but Cain was suddenly unsure. How could Abel not be resentful of his good fortune? Had it been Cain whose fields had wilted while Abel’s flock prospered, Cain would have been as jealous as the shepherd in the story.

    The next day, Cain stole away to his fields with the parchment and read the rest of the story. When he finished, he put his head in his hands and wept.

    When it came time for Cain and Abel to finish the story, Cain suggested that it would be best to finish it in the place where they found it. Abel agreed. When they got to the field, Cain handed the parchment to Abel.

    “Tell me how it ends, Abel,” said Cain.

    “The shepherd and the farmer went out to the field together,” said Abel. “The shepherd was jealous of the farmer, and very mad about his bad fortune, and–”

    Abel stopped.

    “And what, Abel?” asked Cain, reaching down to his belt.

    “And the shepherd…”

    “And the shepherd did what, Abel?” asked Cain, gripping the stone knife.

    “And the shepherd killed his brother,” said Abel, looking up just in time to see Cain plunging the stone knife into his belly.

    “I won’t let you do that to me, Abel,” said Cain, tears streaming down his face. “How could you even think of doing that to me?”

    Abel slumped to the ground, eyes wide, blood trickling from his mouth. “I…I’m sorry, brother,” he said between shallow breaths. “I loved you.” Abel died.

    Cain wept.

  • histrogeek

    Well it was time for the offering. Cain came to the altar bruised up from the work, not paying attention to the first fruits. Abel, little suck-up that he was, got his dead lamb up there first. Wimpy twerp, Cain thought.
    As God was collecting the offerings, It turned to Abel and said, “Sheep, good plan, pretty easy to domesticate.”
    Abel, always ready with the humility, replied, “I got the idea from those carved sheep bone middens you left out.”
    “Oh right those…,” God said absent-mindedly. Then God said to Cain, “Ummm, maybe the kangaroo isn’t the best draft animal. Just saying…”
    Fuming Cain left,.

  • http://cnoocy.livejournal.com/ cnoocy

    Impossible not to read that in Kevin Smith’s voice. (The actor, not the director.) Makes me a little weepy. Bravo.

  • http://pulse.yahoo.com/_M3G5DR3BA75FV4VGJ23MPNJFHI Andrew

     You may well be right–indeed, even I remember creation “scientists” from the early to mid-’70s (though that was in fact post-Stonewall).  But I think there’s a connection

    One thing that Creationism does do, and it’s by no means unrelated, is to allow the Creationist to say “Look, it’s like this because God made it like this,” with respect to anything they like, and “Look, it’s like this because Satan and humans corrupted creation,” to anything they don’t like.  It’s not the only thing, but it is there…

  • Michael Cule

    The Book of Common Prayer (IIRC and IANAChristian) says that marriage was ‘founded in the time of man’s innocency’ (lovely word which sees few occasions for use) so the Anglicans at least have had the justification for ‘Marriage = 1 Man + 1 Woman’ since their founding. Of course they don’t have the legends about Lillith which would make it ‘one man, one woman and his ex’.

  • http://pulse.yahoo.com/_M3G5DR3BA75FV4VGJ23MPNJFHI Andrew

    “Wait a minute,” said Abel, “what’s that scratching on the other side?”
    “Let me look…I *think*,” Cain said slowly, “I *think*  it says, ‘what do you get if you multiply six by nine?’”
    “Forty-two!”
    “Huh?”
    “Dunno.  Just came into my head…”

  • Caravelle

     The main reason I’ve seen YEC give for why they believe in literal Genesis is basically that without a literal Genesis there is not literal Fall, without a literal Fall there is no need for Jesus’s sacrifice, and without Jesus’ sacrifice Christianity is meaningless.

    That’s of course for the YEC definition of “Christianity”.

  • Caravelle

     Eve walked in the Garden. She liked walking in the Garden, feeling the breeze and the grass under her feet, naming the trees in her head, petting the tame animals, picking berries. She liked berries. She saw Snake and went towards him; she liked Snake.

    “Why won’t you have some fruit ?” asked Snake.
    “I am eating fruit” she said, showing her handful of berries.
    “No, my fruit. Won’t you have some ?”

    She looked at where Snake was pointing and saw The Tree.

    “We can’t eat from The Tree. God said we can eat from every tree in the garden except from The Tree.”

    “Do you always do what God tells you to do ? Don’t answer that. Look at it. It’s delicious. You know you want it. Nothing will happen to you, I promise !”

    And the fruit did look delicious, and although she had eaten many berries Eve suddenly felt hungry. She took the fruit, closed her eyes and bit into it.

    The juices flowing into her mouth tasted like nothing she had tasted before; everything felt more real. She felt real. She suddenly smelled scents she hadn’t really noticed before, could suddenly hear sounds she dimly knew she’d been hearing all along but hadn’t been aware of until now. She opened her eyes. In her hand was the fruit, but Snake wasn’t Snake, he was a man grinning at her. Where the Tree had been she saw a big wooden box on wheels. She suddenly realized she wasn’t in a garden at all, there was dirt under her feet and large boxy buildings around her and people. So many people. Of all shapes and sizes, milling between the rows of buildings. The birdsong of the Garden had turned into their shouts and cries and laughter.

    “See, I told you it was delicious ! You can have a basketful for one shekel !” said the grinning man who had been Snake.

    She blinked at him, turned around and ran.
    “ADAAAAAM ! ADAM YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS !!!”

    A bit later she would realize she’d been naked the whole time.

    (The priest looked up. “I heard the noise outside, have you found her ?”
    “Yes, but even better there’s been a miracle ! She can see us and talk to us now !”
    “Praise Enki ! I knew we would eventually get through whatever spell God put on them when he created them ! How did this happen ?”
    “She said eating a fruit gave her the knowledge. We’re a bit worried she might have stolen it from a street vendor”
    “Well, considering the things we found her eating last time she ran into the street…”)

  • alfgifu

    The Angel sat with his long legs stretched across the marble window frame, watching the new world.

    It was a good world.

    For that matter, it was a good window frame: wide, clean, comfortable.  Gauzy white curtains were pinned back behind his head.  The Angel was used to instantaneous comfort when its boss got creative, but God had really spoiled it this time.  Marble.  It was new, from the new world.  The Angel patted it appreciatively, feeling the stone cool beneath his fingers.  New properties!  Stone dense enough to conduct heat away really quickly!  And the gauze was new, as well.  Woven material fine enough to let light drift through it in hazy splendour.

    The world was spinning on its axis, and rotating with other bodies in a stately dance.  God had gone with the ever popular ‘gravitational force’ for this universe.  As the Angel focused, it could see more details: land, sea; green, blue.  Colours and concepts that had not existed until recently.  Until time existed – started existing – about ten minutes ago.

    It was a good world, but the Angel was not satisfied.  Something was wrong.  It was… too complex.

    As soon as that unease crystallised the Eternal Creator’s attention was with him.

    “Hi,” said God.  The Angel thought God sounded sheepish, then wondered where ‘sheepish’ came from.  New concepts were drifting everywhere, it seemed.  “Er, yes, sorry about that,” said God.

    “What happened to this one?” asked the Angel, cautiously.  It was always difficult, critiquing the artwork of the Supreme Being, but the challenge was usually rewarding.

    “Um, well,” if God had manifested a body, it would have been shifting its weight nervously, “they got away from me a bit.”

    “They?”

    God indicated, incorporeally, the spinning world.  The Angel focused, and found itself leaning towards the world in astonishment.  Subcreators!  An intelligent species already?

    “But surely it’s only been going ten minutes?”

    “I know!” cried God, in a tone that might in a lesser being be described as a wail.  “The little blighters ran away with it!”

    “What happened?”

    “Well, you know how I like to think things through properly, before I get going?”

    The Angel nodded.  It remembered some of the difficulties that there had been when God’s thinking time got interrupted.  The Universe five billion measurements high to half a measurement thick came to mind, as did the dimension entirely full of sweet, sticky rocks.

    “It’s these human beings.  They were just in my head, but they got out of control.”

    “I thought you were going to try the self-generating life process this time?” said the Angel, looking back at the complexity of the world.

    “I did!  But it worked too well!  They self-generated in my head, the muggins.  Made things more complicated.  Kept asking questions.  I had to answer them, didn’t I?  But I gave up when they got down to stuff too small for angels to see.  Didn’t have a script for that, so I fudged it.”

    “Ah,” said the Angel, “quantum.”

    “Exactly.  So I gave up on the thought experiment, and made them this nice new world.  Gave up on the self-generation, as well.  Made them from dust, the old-fashioned way.  But were they satisfied?”

    “Er, probably not?”

    “They were not.  It’s all contaminated, anyway.  Still trying to self-generate.  Still replicating and diversifying.  Bit embarrassing, really – I started with only two of the twerps, but once the replication thing kicked in I had to make some more or they’d all die off in a hundred years or so.  Tried to cover it with the old break-the-taboo-for-knowledge trick, but, well…”

    “You do get a bit flustered when unexpected stuff happens,” said the Angel, sympathetically.

    “I get flustered,” God agreed, sadly.  “I think I flubbed it.  They, erm, may be under the impression that I’m angry at them.”

    The Angel looked down at its hands for a moment and considered its choice of words.  “You’re not angry at them?” it said, eventually.

    “Hah!” said God, “I’m bloody furious.  But not at those two.  It’s all the blasted Mesopotamians I’d like to have words with.  Mucking up my model.  All those cave paintings, and ruined cities. I tell you what, it’s going to play merry hell with their perceptions of reality.”

    “Oh dear,” said the Angel, “they seem to be doing ok so far,” it added, comfortingly.

    “Hah.” said God again, “just wait.”

    “I don’t suppose, well, you could use a hand?” The Angel asked.  It had never been allowed to get close to any of the worlds before, and the complexity of this one was intriguing.

    There was silence from the Almighty.

    “Just a thought.  Never mind, then.”

    The silence stretched out.  The Angel looked through the window again, and admired the way the humans were building their houses.

    “No.  No-o-o, actually, I think you could help,” said God.  “You wouldn’t mind popping down there and telling them I was wrong, would you?”

    “Really?”  The Angel swung itself out of the window ledge and supported itself in the celestial void on its burnished-copper wings.  “I can talk to the humans?”

    “You truly wouldn’t mind?  It’s a delicate job.  You’ll have to get them to latch on to all that history that I accidentally wrote into the place.  Sure you’re up for it?”

    “I’d love to!”

    The Eternal Creator beamed joy, and the celestial vaults reverberated.  “You’re a good ‘un Satan,” said God, “I know I can count on you.”

  • Abel Undercity

    I don’t have time now, and I’m half asleep, but I suddenly want it to
    the the case that Cain and Abel faked Abel’s death so that Abel could
    travel the world investigating these anomalies without the watchful eyes
    of parents, angels, or God upon him.

    QUIET, YOU FOOL! Er, I mean, I know nothing of this…

  • http://www.facebook.com/chrisalgoo Chris Algoo

    Abel loved to paint. He thought that by painting he could , in a small way, share the joy that the Creator must feel whenever he sculpts a new person, or tree, or rock. For the most part, he was right – there was a special feeling that welled up whenever he’d created a new piece. He liked to take long walks in new parts of the Garden for inspiration – the beautiful rushing rivers and majestic trees never failed to give him an idea for a new work. Eventually his walks would take him longer, farther away, to strange places with huge, broken, hollow stones full of lines and squared corners. There was nothing like these in the parts of the Garden Abel knew, and so he explored. 

    He found much to enjoy. Broad, thick, beige leaves laden with strange black markings, bound together in hide. Crafts of a deep orange, hard material, warm in the afternoon sun, with an edge finer and sharper than any rock Abel had knapped. And art! Oh, the art. It possessed a brilliance far beyond his gifts – a beauty of line and of space that made Abel’s belief in his own skills plummet. He took special notice of the colors. Abel had worked long and hard to create a decent palette for himself, but he had never, ever made a blue so shimmering, nor a white so pure. He resolved to come here as often as he could, to learn the secrets of this place.

  • Flying Squid with Goggles

    Athricel looked down, the blue light from the screen reflecting from his aquiline features as he squinted to discern the symbols flashing below. He frowned, stretching furrows along his cheeks.

    “I need more time.” Athricel turned to the other angel in the room. Across from him the envoy Ratjitcel crossed her arms, a skeptical look darkening her already dusky features.

    Athricel’s face conveyed the weariness of sustained effort without sleep for several days. Even as he continued to address the messenger, he gestured commands to his office’s automated command system, shifting half a million angels from the teams busily burying beetle fossils in the Dry Valleys of Antarctica to the European Alps. Transit time would be 25 minutes, but the efficiency gains in Helvetica would more than justify the lost time in the commute. “I need either more time or more angels… or both.”

    “How much longer do you need? You’ve known the deadline for as long as you’ve existed. YHWH has provided you with all the resources that can be spared – the Photon Creation Project has absorbed any reserve seraphpower we have. You’re going to have to finish with what you have already.” She softened her words near the end, conveying some empathy for the stress the last week had obviously played on Athricel. Her deeply brown eyes flicked to his shining red hair, disheveled from the days of nonstop running his hand through the locks, an involuntary nervous act she had seen him perform whenever under stress.

    Athricel pulled the large parchment-screen from the side table to the center of his desk directly between the two of them. The clutter on the desk made the lie of the parchment uneven, but nanosensors within the parchment detected its new position in the office, and the parchment projected its images into the air equidistant from the two angels. At the same time, Athricel performed a complicated gesture with the fingers of his left hand, telling the office computer to delegate three high-level emergency calls to his subordinates while he dealt with the emissary from the Silver City.

    “Look here.” He pointed with the long, pale fingers of his right hand at blue glowing glyphs in mid-air. “The Silurian fossils are only 83% aged.” He did not actually say ‘Silurian,’ but your humble narrator has rendered the Angelic term into English as best as possible, especially considering that the Angelic term for Silurian also happens to be a vulgar term for intimate relations in five modern languages.

    “We can anticipate only a 40% chance of these fossils worldwide aging by the end of Day Six. I can’t in good conscience accelerate the v-bombardment of those fossils without being able to rotate angels out in teams when they reach their safe exposure limits. Rapid radionucleide decay is not a safe business – you can get a hundred million years of exposure in thirty seconds.” His voice reached a strained pitch, and Ratjitcel smiled as she saw his concern for the angels under his command, then quickly returned her face to impassivity when she thought the smile might be misunderstood.

    She took a deep breath. “OK. I will relay your request to the Prime Mover. Perhaps He will take that day of rest while you and your team continue to work. I will return with the news before nightfall. Will I find you awake?”

    “I’m always awake these days.” He smiled wearily.

    “That will be my last mission this week – I can stay here to help afterwards if you like.” She winked and broadly smiled to show teeth that were, appropriately, heavenly white.

    Afraid that in his stress, he hadn’t noticed the wink, when she turned to leave the office, she ran her finger up the back of her thigh, pulling up her robes slightly to reveal a smooth, well-muscled leg.

    He was not oblivious. As he sat down, he grinned, thinking there might be some hope for when this massive job was done. Even the ringing alarms form the Gobi Desert Team requesting replacement T. rex parts for those damaged in transit could not dampen his newly buoyed mood.

  • http://timothy.green.name/ Timothy (TRiG)

     Parents messing with their kids: You’re making me think of Calvin’s dad, now. The world was in black and white till scientists invented colour a few years back.

    TRiG.

  • WingedBeast

    Blazamiel shifted the photon just that tiniest space to the left.  The initial part, just moving the light to the right area, that was the easy part.  But, this kind of fine tuning… ugh.

    “You know,” said Ezlinerto, “I heard how this is going to be recorded.”

    Blazamiel closed his theoretical eyes and sighed.  “Let me guess.  No mention of all the work done here.”

    Ezlinerto shook his head.  “Nope.  Only that he said ‘let there be light’ and there was light.”

    Blacamiel, The Angel of Photonic Direction Design pinched the bridge of the nose that he could potentially have had.  “Not even a nod to the Light Crew.  And, at that dance mixer at the head of a pin, I heard from Schlameal that there’s not going to be any mention of the Electron Decay Crew, either.”

    “Artifact Design and Placement isn’t getting mentioned, either.  They spend all that time designing the first shaft only to have him give it right back to them.”  Ezlinerto, The Angel of Photonic Weight And Balance, made a jesture that, were it possible, could have been very rude indeed.  “Why even make us go through all the effort, anyway?”

    “The lived-in look.  He wants everything to have an aged feel, for comfort.”
    Ezlinerto paused a moment, the potential for a mouth hanging open in thought.  “Then why not just start it and let it go a few billion years?”

    “Get this.  If he lets it go for some billion years, then he can’t honestly say he did it in six days.”

    “Remind me, once we’re done here, we need to go visit the Blasphemies team in the language department.  I need some new words.”

  • http://timothy.green.name/ Timothy (TRiG)

    That is indeed a very suitably obscure Pratchett reference. Took me a moment.

    TRiG.

  • Ken

    Children of Eden by  Stephen Schwartz touches on this (“Ring of Stones”). For that matter, there’s Mrs. Cain of Genesis 4, and the intriguing fragment in 4:16-24.

  • Abel Undercity

    Satan was very pleased with himself, disguised as a snake, here at the Dawn of Time.  He had been grooming Eve for weeks, starting with the occasional “hello,” and moving on to chit-chat about the weather (always perfect, but one could hope).  This led to more involved discussions, like the funny thing Adam said over breakfast this morning, and her thoughts on God (Who still dropped by the Garden on occasion and was presumably still sore about the Fall and its prior misunderstanding; the snake was conspicuously absent at those times).

    Serpent lips aren’t made to smile, but he managed a fair approximation by letting his mouth hang open a little, keeping the fangs retracted, while Eve kept on about how everything was so perfect for her and Adam.

    Perfect.

    Satan loathed that word.  He couldn’t speak to Eve at all if he had just had his breakfast, down in the newly-built basalt palace the Fallen had built for him.  It was a cold, dank place.  The Fallen had tried to fashion it in a manner inspired by the soaring architecture of Heaven, but the stone hewn from Hell’s depths seemed to twist in their hands.  The result was a tragic mockery, an overbearing reminder of what had been lost in the Fall.

    Thus it was for any endeavor of the Fallen. Creation itself had rejected them.  Nothing created by their hands would ever be called perfect.

    But oh, everything was perfect for the New Ones, wasn’t it?  God concocted a playground for these two idiots and gave them everything they didn’t even know they wanted.  Satan had to lurk in the shadows out of God’s sight, lest He strike His former most-loved from existence entirely.

    Instead He showered that love upon these… humans.  The very thought of the word made Satan’s guts roil.

    Well, Someone was about to get a big disappointment, wasn’t He?  He gave them One Rule, and it was just begging to be broken.  Satan’s time with Eve gave him even more confidence that he could get her to do it.  With every living thing in the world as their best friends, neither human could even conceive that someone might be lying, that someone might truly not have her best interests at heart.

    The thought of the looks on their faces would carry Satan to sleep at night, if he ever slept anymore.

    The time was close.  Before long he figured he could talk Eve into taking a bite of the Fruit.  Hell (ha-ha), give him a few more weeks and he could have talked her into making a Fruit salad before serving.  But a bite was sufficient, and Satan was eager to be done with it.

    He sensed movement.  Eagerly he coiled around the trunk of the Tree of Knowledge, where the fruit hung, awaiting Eve’s arrival.  Perhaps the day had come?

    But Satan quickly realized that something was amiss.  The vibrations were all wrong.  Eve glided through the Garden’s tall grasses with barely a tremor.  It wasn’t Adam, either, as much a part of the Garden as his wife was, distinguishable only by a heavier footfall.

    This was someone else.  Only, there was nobody else!

    Purposeful, heavy strides drew ever closer, marking a determination not yet seen in this new world.  The tall grasses hissed as though something heavy were dragged across them.

    Satan tasted the air with his forked tongue.  A shiver went down his spine (and he was all spine, of course).  When the figure cleared the grove that surrounded the Tree, the single, impossible name roared across Satan’s mind.

    “You!” he spluttered.  “Impossible!  I ended you!  I devoured you!  You can’t be here!”

    Angry red eyes regarded him narrowly, as the newcomer pulled back the hood of his cloak, which had been raised to protect pale white skin against the brightness of the Garden’s sun.  Bone-white hair cascaded over the collar as a breeze caught it.

    The stranger said nothing, but Satan detected a low murmur: A litany of runes, spoken under the breath.  Satan’s protestations fell silent.

    He tried to recoil as the stranger reached forth, but with speed that even a snake found hard to match, the stranger had him by the base of his head.

    “No, no, not again…” Satan protested feebly as he was pulled away from the trunk of the Tree.  He could not even thrash, but only felt his serpents’ body stiffen.  Again, the familiar, hated immobility, his cries of anguish being reduced to a low and constant hum.

    Where the head of a snake had been, now was only the pommel of a wicked-looking black sword.  Red, hateful runes etched its blade.

    “You thought yourself done with me, Stormbringer?” Elric of Melnibone taunted to the crooning blade.  “Perhaps you were.  But it appears that I am not done with you, nor the forces that steer our Fate.”

    The albino prince of a shattered empire replaced the blade in its long-neglected scabbard, and strode toward the exit of the Garden, and the wild Creation beyond.

  • Abel Undercity

    Well that was fun.  I haven’t written anything much longer than a tweet in so long…

  • The_L1985

    Raziel’s not the stupidest angel!  He’s one of Zaphikel’s loyalest followers!! ;lt/manga reference;gt

  • Shay J

    Plowing in his fields one day, Cain found something. That
    night, he showed it to his brother.

     

    “I think it’s a knife,” he said. “A knife made of stone. And
    it seems … it doesn’t make any sense, but it seems like it’s thousands of years
    old.”

     

    Abel examined it closely. He had never seen anything so old.
    It seemed even older than their father. But that was impossible; nothing was
    older than their father.

     

    “It’s Natufian,” Abel heard
    himself say.

     

    “Natufi-what? What does that mean?”

     

    “I … I don’t know. That word just kind of came to me. …”

     

    “We should go back,” Cain said. “Tomorrow. We’ll go back and
    dig where I found this. Maybe there’s more.”

     

    Cain was unable to put the knife from his mind. He had
    many questions that he could not answer. This knife was old. It was worn. There
    were crude carvings in the handle. A hand crafted this. He remembered his own
    father teaching him and how proud he was when he finished his first knife.
    Could someone so long ago, before father, have made this thing? But father said
    the world was new even if he was old. Cain had believed that. He had believed
    his father. Didn’t his father hear the voice of God? Didn’t his father teach
    him and his brother what was pleasing to the Lord? Didn’t all of them feel God’s
    grace and mercy? “But how is this older
    than father?” 

    The beginnings of doubt settled into his mind, but he could
    not name those doubts or what they could mean. A part of him was afraid of
    following these thoughts, these questions, but how could he not? This knife was
    part of his world and he had to know it, even this little thing.

     

    After a night of turmoil, the new day brought a measure
    of clarity. It was a day God had given them and didn’t God say that His
    creation was good? That it was beautiful? Were they not made in His image? To
    be good? To be stewards? Maybe there were others before them. Maybe he learn about them.
    Those thoughts weren’t scary. They felt right.
    Cain was eager to go to the field and see if he could find something more. It
    would be good to discover more with his brother.

     

    Cain was excited. “Abel, the household is settled. We
    have time to go back to the field and maybe find something else.”

     

    Something passed over Abel’s face. He seemed hesitant. “Maybe
    another time, brother. I have the herd to tend.”

     

    With that, Abel turned from Cain. Cain shrugged. “I can show him later.”

     

    Cain spent the day toiling in the field that he had found
    the knife. It was almost sundown and he had found nothing more. As he was about
    to stop and go home, he struck an object. Cain bent over and picked up a shard
    of a vase. It, too, was carved. The etchings were familiar. It depicted a
    four-legged creature that he had never seen before in the valley. This was
    discovery! It was exciting. He found something new, something that he had never
    seen before and it was beautiful. Cain was eager to show Abel.

     

    Cain showed Abel his prize, but it was not
    received in the same spirit as it was given.

     

    “What is wrong? Can you not see? This is amazing! There
    were others who came before us! Who are surely older than father!”

     

    Abel became irritated. There was no one older than
    father. To imply otherwise, would make no sense.

     

    “This is nothing, Cain. Scratches made by beasts in the
    field. The knife is not a knife. Merely weathered and formed by movement upon
    the ground and flowing waters. Put it away. No one is older than father.”

     

    Cain was puzzled. “There is no river close to that field.
    And it was buried deep beneath the ground. How could it have become so
    weathered? These markings have purpose. See? The knife handle has the same mark
    as this piece of clay. It looks like it could be part of a bowl. I have never
    seen a river do this. It makes things smooth. These edges are jagged, as if it
    was broken.”

     

    “God put it there! There was no one before us, before the
    people God created! We are special. We are chosen.” Abel quickly walked away
    from his brother.

     

    The next morning as he and his family broke their fast,
    Cain realized that he was no longer connected to them. Something had changed
    within him and he didn’t know how to get the feeling of companionship and
    shared purposed again. He knew it had to be a flaw within himself. Father was
    older than everyone. God made this world and didn’t He put them here? “But he also put that knife and that piece
    of clay there.”

     

    His brother’s angered words kept repeating themselves.
    Why would people older than father make us less special? Didn’t God create us?
    Doesn’t He still love us? Cain knew those things to be true. He saw their
    plentiful fields and their thriving herds. They had good health. He used to
    look around and see the hand of God. He could see God’s face in all things for
    it was glorious and worthy of praise.

     

    As the days passed them all, Cain continued to search for
    answers. The gulf between him and his family widened until he could no longer
    make out the shape of their figures. He resented them and they ignored him.
    They thought he strayed from the true path; but if his father and brother were
    right, then why would God put those old things in that field if it meant that
    there was no one before them? What would be the point? The world was a
    reflection of His glory, of His might. Why would He need to tell an untrue
    thing?

     

    Cain stared at the knife and the piece of clay
    and saw the face of God. But his father told him those things were lies. And if
    the knife and the piece of clay was a lie, then didn’t that make the face of
    God a lie? Cain took the knife and the piece of clay, walked back to where he
    first found them, and buried those things that were older than his father. If
    the face of God was a lie, then all things were a lie. He turned from the field
    and the lie. It was no longer beautiful.

  • J_Enigma32

    In the beginning, there was nothing. God stood in the midst of this darkened sea of emptiness, his eyes closed and his thoughts scattered amongst the future, past, and present, that he experienced simultaneously. Here, he was standing now in the empty sea of creation, ready to part the oceans from the heavens and create the land. There, twenty minutes from now, he would blessing the first organisms on the planet Earth. 10,000 years from now, he would be watching as his children bickered over the all too obvious truth of His creation. And at some point in the future, he would remove his hand from them for a third time, bringing the world crashing down on those who did not believe in him, wiping them and the Antichrist they followed from the surface. Back in the past, where he was in the present, he walked across the water. Each toe created a ripple; these ripples in creation would confuse astronomers in the future, looking at the map of cosmic background radiation and wondering why it wasn’t spread out evenly, like their simplistic scientific hypotheses said it should be.

    He stepped, right where he should be. He parted his eyes, and a bright light shone across the nothingness. Creation had begun.

    Then, with a wave of his hand, he sent the whole cosmic mechanism into motion. The waters parted, the land rose. The stars appeared in the night sky, and like the mechanize parts of a play falling into place, each piece was added to the puzzle of creation and twisted until they fit.

    Like a maestro orchestrating a symphony, he lifted his hands and the waves crashed on the short. He thrust out a fist, and the mountains ripped from the surface. Water gathered on the dome above the earth – water he would later use to flood the planet and wipe out all creation – and the first animals appeared.

    It took him five days. On the fifth day, he looked around at his creation – the trees, the grass, the deer and cows and dinosaurs both large and small, and followed the next step in the cosmic mechanization. Landing on the surface of the planet, he walked along the shore, finding the exact clay that he would use. As he did, he approached a cave.

    A cave that would be empty.

    However, upon looking in, it was anything but. There were large, bug-eyed gray-skinned creatures drawing designs and arguing with one another. Shocked, God cycled through the past, present, and future and saw nothing of them. He did not create these creatures. They should not exist.

    “Who are you?” God’s voice boomed.

    “We are scientists working to create life here on this planet,” the alien replied, looking at him. “Now if you’ll kindly get your feet out of our experiment, we’ll continue.”

    “Your experiment? I am God! I created the entire universe five days ago!”

    The aliens looked at one another. This was news to them – their civilization had been a Type III civilization for better than a million years now. They’d been mining the ergosphere of blackholes for energy and building dyson shells around stars long before this. Their bracewell probes had already been scattered across the galaxy. Their AIs were god-like, and had a control over matter at the Planck scale. They’d mapped the cosmic radiation, and after bickering over it, finally discovered the secret history of the universe. They’d crossed large gulfs with their wormhole network. They’d been doing this for a lot longer than five days.

    “Did another get loose?” A new alien appeared, accompanied by another one. They walked up behind God.

    “What are you doing?” God demanded, as two aliens approached him, gently taking his arms. “Unhand me! I am your Lord God!”

    “Don’t worry,” the arriving alien told the other two in the cave. “It’s just another AGI that escaped from the vrich simulators and somehow uploaded itself into a really weird-looking shell. We’ll take it back.”

    “Simulator? I created the world! I created the Universe five days ago!”

    “And we created you two days ago, but that’s okay,” the alien said, patting his head. “Now, if you really want to be a creator God, we can set up a simulation for that – far, far away from our experiments.”

    And with that, the aliens took God away, back to the mothership he’d escaped from, to be uploaded into VR again.

    “I’m not sure where he got the idea for that shell,” the first alien said, looking back at the cave drawings. “Let’s make the sapient life on this planet look like him!”

    “That’s an awesome idea!” the second alien said, as they walked back out to the beach – and their experiment.

  • Matri

    Okay, more of this please! :)

  • Ima Pseudonym

     Ditto. 

  • The_L1985

     LOL, brilliant!


CLOSE | X

HIDE | X