Creationism by Kier
She had never seen darkness like this.
Darkness, as usually perceived, was not the opposite of light, merely its absence. One could not exist without the other. It would be very easy to believe, however, that this darkness was indeed the opposite of light. It seemed so much more tangible, existing in its own right instead of just being the absence of something else. Light would find it hard to penetrate this darkness. It seemed heaver, and of course, the girl thought, it was absurd to think that darkness could have a density, but still she could not help but feel that there was something much more substantial to it that defied the natural laws of science. This was anti-light.
The girl imagined that this was what the darkness at the deepest pits of the ocean was like, where strange and other-worldly creatures dwelled in the slimy chaos; things with more eyes than tentacles and a great many of those all the same. It was conceivable that in darkness like this, the legendary Kraken sleepeth. That it was from darkness like this the universe took form, a bright and shining pebble of potential.
It occurred to the girl to wonder where she was.
And in that moment, or one very similar for the darkness seemed capable of swallowing time, the girl heard a sound. It came as such a shock the girl felt herself jump for she had not realised until then that in that darkness there was no sound at all. What was equally shocking was the sound itself, a quiet, unintruding and yet powerful voice saying, “Testing… Testing…” It was, the girl admitted to herself, the last thing she would have expected to hear, but then just as suddenly the sound was gone and the girl found herself once again alone.
However it was not long until the sound came again, this time louder and more commanding. “Lights!” it said, and there was light. A brightly shining dot that shone all the brighter for the thick, heavy darkness surrounding it. The pinpoint of light burnt into the girl’s eyes, and she might have been staring at a thousand suns.
“Cue music,” the voice said, and the girl jumped again for what came next took her completely by surprise. The noise of a full string orchestra tuning up exploded into being.
“Action!” the voice said, and the orchestra began to play. The pinpoint of light seemed to collapse into itself, and then suddenly explode outwards. The girl gasped as the light filled the darkness and small clusters of shining matter danced onwards, multiplying rapidly, all accompanied by the powerful and beautiful orchestral composition, the greatness of which would never be matched by any composer on Earth. It occurred to the girl that she was witnessing the finest piece of theatre ever created.
The dancing lights eventually came to rest in the darkness, each one a smaller version of the original speck of brightness. The music because quiet and suspenseful and the girl held her breath in anticipation.
There was an explosion of noise and light, as each speck burst as the first had done, creating swirling clusters of what now resembled stars. The music began to build up to a crescendo, a noise so loud and perfect it seemed, like the darkness, to have its own matter, when suddenly and without warning there was a pop and a fizzle, and the music came collapsing to a halt. The lights in the darkness, too, seemed to fold in on themselves like a burning projection until all that was left was the immense, uncompromising darkness.
“Cut!” came the voice, and then, “Damn. And it was going so bloody well.” With a loud thump, the lights came on and the darkness was gone. The girl was standing in a huge room which appeared to be a kind of studio. Against one wall a projector was flicking away uselessly as its broken tape lay on the floor. On the other side of the room a full symphony orchestra was looking on in confusion. In one corner the girl was utterly shocked to see the Kraken, the giant, tentacled sea monster, holding a number of torches and, inexplicably, a small pennywhistle.
Standing next to the girl in the middle of the room was a rather awkward man holding a microphone. On his shirt was a badge reading,
“HI! MY NAME IS GOD.
The man looked around the room as he spoke, “Never mind, guys. I’m sure we’ll do better on the night! I want to see you all again on Tuesday, all right? Pretend this is the real thing!” He then turned off the microphone and sighed to himself. “The conceptualisation’s the easy bit; it’s getting it all to create itself that’s giving me so much trouble.”
The little girl coughed a little to make her presence known. The man looked down and said, “Oh,” but without surprise. “My latest work, yes,” the man answered her question before she could ask. “It’s called ‘The Big Bang’, although I’m worried the title’s a little bit presumptuous. It’s a shame it fell apart so soon, I’ve got some lovely preliminary work by Coleridge in the later scenes. In fact we’ve already got writers working on the sequel, ‘The Big Crunch,’ he said proudly.
“Sounds good,” said the girl hesitantly, “Only…”
“Why am I here?” the little girl asked, “In the studio, I mean.”
“Oh to watch, to listen,” said the man dismissively. “That whole tree falling in the forest debacle. If the Universe brings itself into being and nobody’s there to see it, does it still happen?”
“I… I don’t know, sir,” the girl admitted, a little afraid of this strange man.
“Neither do I, but I don’t want to risk it. Shall I see you next Tuesday, then?” the man beamed.
“If you say so, sir,” the girl replied nervously, and started backing away towards the door.
“I do indeed,” the man said, smiling his troubling smile.
“Yes, sir. Goodbye, sir,” the girl said hurriedly, and quickly she exited.
And with that came the conclusion of the first rehearsal of the creation of the universe.