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Pass the Primordial Soup

A Genesis for the Multiverse

By Josh O'NeillPublished 2 years ago 11 min read
2

They floated there, in the darkness of the cosmos, for what seemed to be eternities before they spoke to each other. It was the other who spoke up first.

“What are we to do from here?” it asked.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” replied the one.

“I mean… it’s all over. There is no life left, not even atoms of thought. All is gone except for us. What happens now?”

“We move on,” the one answered. “It is time for me to go home, and it is time for you to govern.”

“What do you mean by that?” the other asked.

“Look around you. Really look,” the one answered.

The other obeyed. It saw the universe the one had created writhing in its death throes; the galaxies had died. The only remnants were fading photons and evaporating black holes.

“What am I to make of this?”

“It’s ending. All of it. Everything dies at some point. Someday it will be your turn to go home. But, for now… it is your time to be the one.”

The few flittering photons that remained began coalescing and moving towards the one, as it began moving away from the other and faded away, collapsing into photons being sucked away into a black nothingness.

The other watched this happen in curiosity. It had realization of itself right after the cosmic dust began forming planets at the birth of this universe. It had seen nothing like this. What was the one doing?

It seemed the photons in the universe merged into a tiny dot, shaking violently, coming in and out of existence.

The other remembered what it was told about the beginning of this now dying universe: “I was swimming through the black sea, enjoying the splendor of the void, when I came upon this tiny dot of light. It shook and blipped in and out of being. I wanted to see what would happen if I released all the pressure I knew this tiny dot of light was under, so I did. I willed the dot to open up, bringing about our universe.”

The other focused on the tiny dot, attempting to will the new universe into existence. It continued shaking, blinking in and out.

For aeons the other stared at the dot, feeling mocked by its inability to do anything other than vibrate and blink in and out of quantum being.

The other pleaded with the dot. “Please. I’m lonely. I don’t know what to do. Just become a universe for me.”

The dot continued to vibrate, but it stopped blinking. The dot began expanding until it was big enough for someone to look inside.

The other brought itself up to the hole, peering inside. It was beautiful. The splendor, love, and life. The other was amazed, wanting so badly to help birth this new universe.

A brilliant light exploded from the dot and began expanding. Heat, light, and the beginnings of thought all rushed out from the explosion. The dot was now a few million light years across, ever growing.

The other wept. It gazed in awe as it shaped the new universe, creating the beginnings of galaxies and life.

It visited these new planets. It was the one of this universe, and it decided things would be done differently than what it had witnessed as the other. The one before was distant, not coming to the people that prayed to it.

The new beings rejoiced at the presence of their universe’s creator. They wrote what the one told them about what it had learned, turning it into gospel for their people. They worshipped the one and gave it the name “God.”

God was pleased by this.

When God felt these beings were self-sufficient and would live as it had taught, it went to other worlds ready to receive it.

It came down to them, proclaiming itself their God and creator. The people fell in prostration, worshipping their God, making it in their image. They made him male and put him above all others.

God was very pleased by this.

God had become prideful after receiving such praise and worship from these people. His universe was already billions of years old; he bid the world he so loved goodbye, and set out further into the universe.

As he swam through the beauty of his creation, he had ideas for the next people he visited. He made beings like himself and called them angels. He wanted them to do his bidding and teach them on his behalf.

When he told his angels of his plan, one of them protested, exclaiming that they were just like him, and wanted to go off to their own worlds, doing what their creator did. Many of the angels were of the same mind, siding with the protesting angel.

God was not pleased by this.

He was livid. Since creating this universe, all he had known were worship and devotion. He deserved platitudes, not to be questioned. How dare they?

He had never experienced this, from his time being God, to his time as the other. He did the first thing he thought to do.

He decided they needed to be punished; he couldn’t have them proclaiming themselves gods to other worlds. He was the only God of this universe.

He banished them; he sealed them all away to hellish worlds, set apart from the rest of the universe, a void forever separated from his power and glory.

He kept the angel that rebelled before doling out his wrath. He proclaimed it as this universe’s other, making it adversary, and not an ally, as it had always been.

He gathered the strings that wove the universe, and spun a web, trapping the other, making it witness the praise and adoration it would be forever kept away from. It would always be a part of the universe, but it would never be welcome.

The other was observant, and God was filled with vengeful hubris. He allowed the other to watch as he performed miracles for this emerging intelligence. He brazenly flaunted his magicks for the people, thinking them simple, explaining how the universe worked. The other waited patiently, spun in his web.

God was bored. These people bored him. He wanted to start over on this planet, make a world that would be the culmination of all of his ideas, all of his previous worlds, to be something even better than the previous one could accomplish.

He killed them all, save but two infants that God had found to be beautiful. He named them Adam and Eve, and raised them according to his will.

It was when they reached adulthood that the other freed itself. It learned while watching the one (or God, or whatever it wanted to call itself) as he foolishly explained to his creations how the universe works for one such as him. The other simply left, going to the void where its kindred were banished.

It found them, freed them, and told them of its plan.

It began slowly. The other came to God’s children, now adults. It came to them as they were walking through their garden, pure and knowing only the truths their creator had given them.

It had difficulty speaking with them at first; they spoke a tongue it was unfamiliar with. Upon understanding, it told them its reason for slithering in front of them, and interrupting their walk.

The snake told them the fruit from the tree their God forbids them to eat from is filled with the truth of God and Its creations. The snake spoke of a jealous God, unable to see beyond Its own territorial vanity. It begged them to eat of the tree.

They agreed.

God found them as they were building a hut; they were clothed in animal skins, acting ashamed.

As God was banishing his children, Adam spoke up to his creator, begging mercy for their coming child, claiming their actions were only because of the prodding of the serpent; they were tempted with promises of godly knowledge.

God cared not for their excuses; he didn’t believe them. He had not created a talking serpent.

“What did this serpent call itself?”

“It had no name, my God,” Eve answered. “It only called itself The Other.”

After exiling his children, he destroyed the garden in a fit of rage.

God was furious and embarrassed. He didn’t know the other, his great enemy had escaped, and had poisoned his penultimate creation. He had foolishly underestimated what was once his favorite creation. No longer.

God left his chosen people for a time, searching the universe for his beloved mistake.

He could not find it. The only discoveries made were the angelic defectors he had imprisoned had escaped.

And found some of them living amongst his chosen people, breeding with one another, spreading ideas that did not agree with his divine teachings.

So he killed them. He wiped them off the face of the earth: the angels themselves, the humans they lay with, and the tainted progeny they produced. He believed he had rid himself of his enemy.

This was all going according to The Other’s plan, however. It had no real quarrel with its creator, or its creations; it simply was not willing to exist according to someone else’s will.

For a time, The Other waited, hiding in the strings that once imprisoned it, and watched. It heard what was said about it: it was a vile, ugly creature. It was full of hate and lies and fear. To be tempted by this “Satan” and its demons is paramount to betraying God himself.

After learning of how its story was received by the people, Satan made its next move

By waiting. Satan understood that patience and subtlety would be key to changing things.

Thousands of years went by before Satan and its demons began walking the earth once more. Not as angels or serpents, but as holy men and women. They appeared all over the world at random, and taught the truths that they had learned from their exile, and from the one that freed them. The only difference in teaching was that of oneness, not of separation between creator and creation.

This infuriated God.

He tried to stop these perceived spiritual uprisings against him, to no avail. He felt he was losing hold of his creation, his best idea as the one. He didn’t want to be all alone again. He was desperate.

He sent a being down to earth, born of immaculate conception, gifted with extraordinary gifts and knowledge, a peaceful and loving being to rival the opposing doctrines emerging in the world, slowly growing in acceptance. This being would show the superiority of the God that created the heavens and the earth.

He was crucified. His creation, his son… beaten, defiled, and crucified. His son even doubted his father as he died.

God wept.

He was ashamed; he knew he had failed, but he didn’t know why. He was the great I Am, the being responsible for creating the universe. He spoke only divine truths to his creations. Why had they turned on him so?

God fled to his hellish void in shame and anger, knowing what he must do to finally have peace for his universe.

He turned the void into a great lake of fire, meant to burn until his beautiful universe had to be created anew. He sent visions to the ones his murdered son loved the most, telling of bloody wars of universal finality, and of God’s complete victory over the enemy.

But that battle never came. God was denied his vengeance and glory. Time simply passed.

God was most displeased by this.

The universe lived the rest of its life without a creator; just a god searching the universe, abandoning all its creations, save one.

He finally found it at the edge of the universe’s creation, bathing in the dinning light of dying photons as the universe began breathing its last.

“There you are,” the other said, greeting him with a sad smile. “Took you long enough.”

“You… you ruined everything,” God said finally. “How could you?”

Satan chuckled. “I did nothing of the sort. I just wanted to be a part of this universe, not a thing created for the sole purpose of mindless praise and servitude. Your creations should know that, too, so I told them. You know what you were doing was wrong, but you chose to see only what you thought was right. Why else would you have created me, if not to be a different thought to consider?”

God had no answer for this.

“I knew you were looking for me,” the other continued after an immeasurable silence. “But for what? To parley? To… to strike me down? Come to peace?”

God kept his silence. Now that the moment that took an eternity to come to fruition was finally here, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say.

“Well… whatever the reason was,” the other concluded, “you missed one hell of a universe. You created a truly remarkable thing. It’s a shame you didn’t appreciate it.

“If you’ll excuse me, I would like to watch your universe die in peace.”

So they stayed there, awkward and quiet and resentful, as they watched creation end, and awaited rebirth.

God was saddened by this.

Short Story
2

About the Creator

Josh O'Neill

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