Those Pesky Little Things

Somebody had disturbed him. No, that couldn’t be true. Something had disturbed him. No single body, entity or creation had the force to even register on his consciousness. He wondered if it was those pesky humans again. It was probably them.

Krjvy had lived a long time. 13.8 billion years was a really long time. Permanence was not a boon, it was a poisoned chalice. He couldn’t die. He had started feeling old a long time ago. As the time passed by, he cursed his invulnerability. When he had just been created, he had been unable to control his powers. It took him some time to get used to them. But once he learnt how to handle them, he had been fascinated by his abilities. He spent the early part of his life creating and destroying, a constant whirl of trial and error. Sometimes he would like what he had created, and he would create more around it. Sometimes, he would start hating his handiwork as soon as it was finished. And then he would be enraged. The limits of his anger knew no bounds. He did not understand why he was angry, or with whom; there was nobody except him. Maybe that’s why he was angry. Loneliness was a cruel mistress.

He had become bored of his abilities. He had created the biggest creations, the most visceral ones, but he had gotten bored of them. He would spend millennia, eons creating them. But as soon as he finished them, he would feel no satisfaction. There was nobody to share his work with. But then he had stumbled upon something, almost by accident. He could create sentient beings, ones with ability to think for themselves. This had thrilled him. In this vast, blank void, he finally had the chance to listen somebody else’s thoughts, other than his own. He named the first world he created with sentient beings as Ska.

Initially he had been delighted. He could make so many of them. And each had their own thoughts, their own personalities. He gave them the ability to be immortal. This turned out to be a mistake. Once they realized they couldn’t die, they stopped doing anything. They became lazy and dull. They were happy all the time and seemed content with what they had. He soon got tired of them. What had looked like a promising development had just led to more disappointment.

Then he tried to analyze his mistakes. What had he done wrong? There was no reason to believe they would turn out to be so dour and uninteresting. Maybe making them immortal like him had been a mistake. He had to give them a reason to be exciting. He thought long and hard about this. The challenge thrilled him. He would spend vast stretches of time thinking about it. And then he had an idea.

He would give them life. They would have a finite time to live. The more he thought of it, the more he became fascinated with the idea. How would they react to the end? He would have to make them fear the end. So he made the beings strong and healthy at the start. But as their age progressed, they would grow weaker till they died. He planned everything in detail. He had never felt so purposeful. He would be their supreme being. Their creator. Their God.

First he had to carefully select a planet. It had to be somewhere close enough where he could observe them but not so close that they could irritate him. He created a new star and a small system of about 8 planets (those pesky humans had decreed Pluto was not big enough to be a planet) around it. He then planted the first seeds of life on Earth. He had to wait some time to achieve the desired results. He had required trial and error (along with a failed Dinosaur experiment) but he had finally created human beings as he had desired. Initially he was honest with them. At least to a limit.

He had based the Greek Mythology partly on his life and partly on his imagination. He described Chaos, the void. And then he named himself Chronus in their tales. But he felt no connection with the darkness around him. The void was a hostile enemy, not a comforting friend. So he described Gaia. He liked the idea of Gaia. He would have liked somebody like Gaia. And then he let his imagination run wild and created a 100 more Gods. He enjoyed the experience so much that he created some more humans in a different corner of Earth and created a 100 more Gods in Hindu mythology.

But they would die very soon. No matter how hard he tried, they would die faster than he could make them. Then he had another brilliant idea. Why not let them do the hard work? The idea had been a success. Humans had taken to his concept of procreation very well indeed. They practiced it a lot.

Then he decided to have some more fun.

“And then God created Man in his own image.”

He chuckled every time he came across this. He had felt so smart when he had made them believe this. To make them believe that an all powerful being had created them had required so much effort. But they were completely willing to believe he had created them in his own image. Oh, how he laughed. Their lives were mere moments in his memories. They had such trivial pursuits. He had found their development oddly fascinating. Even though he had given them more than enough space to live, they always seemed to be fighting over land. They didn’t do much with it after winning it, just boasted about it. He began to like them more and more.

But then they had started changing a bit too fast. Within moments, they had gone from peaceful hunter gatherers to violent warmongers. They had started procreating too fast. Since their lives were so short, they had started doing things faster and faster which made it hard for him to keep up with them. The world had become too detailed for its own good. He could never have imagined the things they could do. They made him sad and they made him proud. But lately they had started getting on his nerves. There were too many of them. He was too prudish to meddle in their day to day affairs. They just kept asking for more and more

He conceived “Black Holes” to hide himself from them. They had started sending funny looking objects in the space around them. So he made a space where they couldn’t look. He had started withdrawing himself more and more from their affairs. He had had a lot of fun but now they had become too wild. He would probably go to sleep. By the time he woke up in another million years, they would have probably blown themselves up.

He had the feeling that he was an outcast. Sometimes he thought he could see fleeting glimpses of a past life. He was a singularity. The humans were too fast for him. He did not have the vigour of his earlier days. He had heard them use a phrase, and had immediately liked it.

Maybe he was too old for this shit.


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